The absolutely worst thing about being owned by a pet.
By Randy Snyder
The absolutely worst thing that comes along when you are owned by a pet, even as you are playing with your new puppy or kitten, is knowing somewhere in the back of your mind that it's a near certainty that you are going to live longer then them and that someday you'll have to say goodbye to them sooner or later. For me today was just such a day. My oldest Shih-Tzu, Mr. Harry (the gray one), started coughing a lot a few weeks ago. The vet said that he had a bad lung infection and that he may be OK, but to be prepared that, given he is 13 and 1/2, that he might not be strong enough to fight it off at his age. His coughing got worse and worse, but then a few days ago he stopped coughing. At first we thought he might be getting better, but he was very weak. The truth was that his lungs were filling up with fluid and he couldn't cough it up any longer.
Harry was the kind of dog that would rather burst then go the the bathroom in the house. We always leave one of the patio doors open just far enough for the dogs to go in and out by themselves whenever they need to. I knew Harry didn't have long to go when last night I found him on the kitchen floor covered in a pool of his own urine. He just couldn't make it to the door. I cleaned him up and put him in his bed in front of his favorite fan.
I sat up with him late last night and got up this morning at 8AM to find my upset wife in the living room with him and his breathing was very forced and rattling. I got him to eat a little bit of a hot dog (his favorite treat) but I had to fill the water dish up to the top so he could rest his chin on the bowl to drink. I carried him outside and he was able to stand long enough to urinate, but then collapsed again. So I brought him back into the living room and put him in his dog bed and turned his fan on to keep him cooled off, but it was obvious he was going to pass away at any time.
I laid down on the floor next to him and rested his head on my upper left arm so we were nose to nose. I kept petting him and saying what a good dog he was (he loves to hear that) and that I was going to love him forever. Of course at this point I was a blubbering mess. As it got harder for him to draw a breath I started telling him that it was going to be OK and that he shouldn't fight it any longer. That he should go now. After about 10 minutes of this he drew his last rattling breath and passed away in my arms, his face inches from mine. I take a great deal of comfort in that. He passed away surrounded by love and affection and I got to say goodbye to him. I was with him when he needed me to be there the most.
Fortunately the animal crematorium in Palm Springs is open Saturday mornings, so I called them and we put him in a pillow case and drove him over to there. Sometime next week I'll get my Mr. Harry back in a small redwood box (they guarantee he'll be cremated alone and with no other animals, so I know the ashes are his), with a brass plate that has his name on it. I'll also get a tuft of his fur and an imprint of his paw in glazed terracotta. There will also be a sympathy card that has his name, the Rainbow Bridge story on it and (my choice) the words "My buddy, my pal and my friend" from the Willie Nelson song.
I am keeping it together now, but I know I'll probably be a blubbering mess again on and off for quite awhile. I'll be 60 this month and I have never had a dog in my life as long as I was owned by him. It seems as if he has always been with me and now he will be again. RIP, Mr. Harry and know that daddy will always love you forever.
I don't know, maybe pet owners are a bit of masochists?
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Harry's girlfriend, Sally, is 11 now and I already have the money set aside for when it's her turn to go. Molly is only 3, so I hope it will be a very long time before I need to say goodbye to her. My wife and I have talked about and decided these two will be our last two dogs, as we just don't think we can go through this too many more times. The pain is incredible.
Very sorry to hear that Harry walked on, Randy.
My two are 9 and 13...Wiki the mini doxie is in fine health and Annie our mix is pretty much deaf but in very good health otherwise. But like my wife and I, they are aging.
I don't think that we'll get another dog (s) when they are gone. Too damn old, but I sure love their company.
RIP Harry.
Thanks. I comfort myself to know that he is no longer suffering from this lung infection that took his life. He has found peace. It was very, very hard to be there holding him and petting him and whispering to him as he was dying, but that's part of what you sign on for when you get a pet. I have little or no respect for people who, sadly, have to have their pet put down, but don't stay with them as they go. That's when they need your love the most and that's when they need your comfort the most. I am both sad and happy that I was holding him when he passed away.
I am really sorry for your loss, Randy. When our pets go over the rainbow bridge, it is always so painful. Yes, there are moments I do think we are masochists.
When Bud E. died, it was awful. He was in kidney failure, and I just couldn't bring myself to put him to sleep. With Oliver, it was far more cut and dry. His body temp had dropped to 89 degrees.. still doing that act, leaves you scared.
At least find solace that Harry died peacefully in your home surrounded by love.
I don't regret getting Wally after Oliver died. He has brought such joy into my house. And while yes, I do think about the day I will have to say good-bye, I still think the joy they bring you outweighs the loss at the end.
And I just realized that as long as I have known you (and that is going on 9 years now), you have had Harry. I feel a little loss and sadness, too. Hopefully, you will have Sally a lot longer.
It seems like Harry has always been a part of my life. He fit together with me so quickly that it was amazing. Even now I look at his dog bed where he passed away in my arms and expect to see him, because it seems like he has always been there.
We have known each other a long time and you have always been a part of my life and of Harry's. I thank you for that.
Harry had a full life B4 he passed . What else can anyone ask for ?
13 and 1/2 years is the exact life expectancy of a Shih-Tzu and you're right. He had a life full of comfort and love from myself, my wife and the other dogs. My wife had gone to her bedroom because she couldn't bear to watch what was happening. When I came back to the living room after telling her he had passed away I had a pillowcase to put him in for the ride to the crematorium, but to my surprise when I got back into the living room our youngest Shih-Tzu, Molly, was stretched out along side of his body like she was snuggling with him. She kept licking his face and seemed to know what had happened.
I'm sorry you reminded me of this. My cat was my buddy before we married and became our family pet when I married and had kids. I took him with me when I travelled to the country, and he became a really important part of my life. He, too, had kidney failure, and became quite thin and weak. When the time came we were on opposite sides of the room, and he emitted a loud mix of a meow and a groan, struggled to walk towards me when I took him up in my arms. I knew he was suffering because he came to me for comfort. We took him to the vet who said he was in pain, there was nothing that could be done to cure him, and he was declining fast, so we decided for him to have the needle and end the suffering.
Later that day I sat in the corner of our room and cried my eyes out for at least an hour. I cried more than when my father died. We had him cremated, but instead of keeping his ashes we buried them in our back yard in the middle of three pine trees. When some years later we had an inground pool put in, I dug up the ashes and kept them in a pail in the garage. I just couldn't give him up after 17 years of his being my buddy.
If I still lived in rural Michigan where I grew up I would have taken him into the woods and find a good pine or birch-wood tree and bury him there. Then I would have sliced of some of the bark and carve his name into the tree with some comments of love.
So, so sorry for your loss and pain.
Thank you. In my mind I still expect to see him trotting into the living room while I am watching TV and having to turn the volume up because he snored loudly. I would give much to hear that snore again.
My best kitty, Little Mo, died about 20 years ago, and it is instinct for me to look for him in "his" chair, the one that looks like a throne... I still miss him, every day, and long for him.
What you MUST do is get another one, when dear little Sally dies. They bring us such joy-- and you are making sure a dear animal has a good and long life, filled with love. So many of them don't have that...
I am so very sorry for your loss. They are a part of us, and they bring us such love and joy. They are our friends, and our soul mates... I've not gone 24 hours without a dog, since I was about 11, and have no intention of ever doing so. After they are gone, we're not replacing them, we're bringing joy back into our household, because the new one gives us a reason to smile, even in our grief. We get to learn their personality, and develop the close relationship between our family members. It isn't a replacement-- nothing can replace that unique place in our heart-- but an addition. Our hearts grow with more love...
I'm so very sorry that you are grieving! It is so hard to lose them! I know you gave him as much comfort as you could and that dear little Harry knew that you loved him. All that matters is the love you shared with Harry. Love never dies.
Thanks! I am sorry to hear about your loss also, even if it was long ago, the memories never go away. I find myself looking at the spot in the living room where I was laying down with him, holding him close and whispering how much I love him and what a good dog he is as he passed away. I have saved his favorite toy and sweater and have set them up on a shelf in the book case in my bedroom. That's where I plan on putting the box with his ashes in it, his paw print, the tuft of his fur and his sympathy card, so I am reminded of him everyday and able to feel that I still have him around.
I am sure there are some people out there who wouldn't understand all of that, but I have never completely trusted anyone who doesn't love dogs (OK, cats too
. They are missing something in their soul. Some sort of love and compassion that they were born without. Even if they don't have a pet that's OK, but if they don't love dogs and cats I just don't trust them in any kind of dealing at all.
I feel the same way-- there are people who are missing part of their soul. Our family members are just that-- a big part of our hearts.
Kangaroos are also adorable ... at least when they're very young :
What you MUST do is get another one, when dear little Sally dies.
BTW, three years ago we adopted a rescue Shih-Tzu mix and named her Molly. She is my shadow and I can't go from one room to another without her at my side or heels. She sleeps in my bed by my feet every night and is 100%, pure, unconditional love. So, with luck, we have at least another 10 years with a dog in our life. We have talked about it and my wife and I (so far) have decided never to get another dog. I think that will change someday though.
They are addictive!
Molly will help, for hopefully a long long time. I've taken in the pets of my family when they died, and always given them good homes and loved them. It is one last kind act I can do for my family, and their animals become my family as well. I never want to be without a cat or a dog. or both. Ever!
"What you MUST do is get another one, when dear little Sally dies."
Because our children were very young when our cat died, when we knew it was going to happen soon, we got a beautiful Soft-coated Wheaten Terrier puppy. It was the runt of the litter but she grew to be a healthy full size. That was to alleviate the feeling of loss that we knew our children (and we too) would feel when the time came.
They give you something to smile about when you have nothing to smile about and help heal the loss. It is never a "replacement" pet, but I've always thought that to add love to your life is a good thing!
Lovely, dear Randy!
Pets are full of pure love and we all can use some of that.
>Since Mr. Harry died last Saturday morning I have been dealing with the details. Getting him to the crematorium. Deciding on what I want his plaque to say. Waiting for the cremation. Picking up the remains. Getting his favorite sweater to set his rosewood box of ashes on in the family room, along with his paw print in glazed terracotta, his tuft of hair, his life long favorite dog toy and his sympathy card. I have been so busy that I have not really had a chance to grieve. > >Joan told a friend of hers on the phone the other day that I was handling it fantastically, but I really wasn't. I was still in some sort of state of shock and too busy. However that is over. Harry's remains are set up in the family room and all that needs to be done is done. Unfortunately know I find myself in an almost uncontrollable and irrational spasm of guilt. > >As you well know when you adopt a pet, they are your complete responsibility. Taking care of the dogs here has always been up to me. When Harry was thirsty he always depended on daddy being sure there was plenty of fresh water in the bowl. The same with food. When he was hungry, daddy always made sure his food dish was full. He could not have survived more then a week without my attentions and care. I remember when he was a puppy and the first time he saw a garbage truck in Hollywood. He was terrified! But he ran to me. He knew that I would pick hm up, hold him close and protect him. That I would make everything OK. The same when he was scared of fireworks or thunder. Daddy was always there to comfort him and ease his fear. When he just plain wanted some affection, it was the same. For more then 13 years daddy was always there for a hug and to take care of his every need. To make everything all better. To make him feel safe no matter what. > >Yet last Saturday morning I found myself laying on the floor facing him, with his head on my my upper arm, his nose inches from mine, watching him die. I watched as his front paws suddenly and spasmodically stiffen down the length of his body toward his rear legs. I held him close as he had sort of seizures and I heard the death rattles of his breathing in my ears as I held him, kissed him, told him that I loved him, that I would always love him, that daddy was there for him, that it was OK to stop struggling and to let go. Then he breathed a few more times and was gone, limp in my arms. I felt so helpless. After all of these years of being responsible for him, for taking care of him, for making everything alight for him, I was confronted with something daddy couldn't take care of. Something I couldn't fix for him. Something I couldn't stop. > >I'm no fool. I know I can't stop death and all pets die, usually before their owners. That's why I wrote that piece on the site (and maybe I'll add this to it), but I can't help having a completely stupid and irrational feeling like I let him down somehow. I keep thinking "Was there something I could have done to stop this?". To fix it. To be the daddy he always depended on to take care of him. To stop it from happening. > >I know this feeling will pass and I know there are probably some people who think it's stupid to kiss the wooden box that is his urn before going to bed and saying good night to him, but having him cremated and bringing him back home makes me feel like he is still here and still part of the family. Like I said, I know this overwhelming feeling of guilt and feeling like I let him down somehow will pass, but I think I'll still keep up the tradition of kissing him goodnight and telling him that I still love him. > >Until then, it's a little piece of hell.
You did everything that a loving pet-owner could possibly have done. There is NOTHING to feel guilty about. You will get over it, because soon your inner self-realization will take over and the guilt will pass. But the memories will remain - they will be a part of life that will not leave you.
I know this because almost three decades after losing my buddy, my cat, I still recall pleasant moments of our being together.
It's been five weeks today when Harry passed away and you were right Buzz, I am getting over the feelings of guilt. I guess I am in the acceptance phase of grief. Now I just think of the happy times we had together and a lot less of his loss. I still miss him terribly and guess I will for a long time, but the feeling that I let him down somehow is almost gone now. I have a picture of him (soaking wet after a bath) as the background on my laptop so I can see him everyday. Everyone says their dog is a good dog, even if it's a monster, sort of like kids, but Harry really was a very good and well mannered dog and right now I'm more happy for the years I had the privilege of having him in my life then anything else.
You will get over it, because soon your inner self-realization will take over and the guilt will pass.
I know. And soon I hope. Thank you.