I know what you mean about how they fill so much time in your life - and then when they are gone and you feel so empty... I think that is part of why we grieve so much when they are gone. Today it's one month for us since we lost Abby. Since I work from home, I spent almost every minute of every day with her. She would ride along with me to run errands. It's so hard when they are not there anymore. I think other dog pawrents are the ones who get that - they understand how incredibly hard it is to lose them. I cried WAY more over my dogs' deaths than over my dad's. Maybe that sounds weird (especially to someone who is not a dog pawrent), but my dad lived a long, great life, and it wasn't like I saw him or even talked to him every day. It's just a very different kind of loss with a dog I think. People who say "it's just a dog" REALLY don't get it. I feel kind of sorry for them, because they obviously were never touched by a dog the way we have all been.

Hang in there. One week out is very hard. I remember that day well. I was the same as you - all I wanted to do was look at her pictures and videos for the first few days. It does start to get easier. I still miss her. I still cry at least a little bit every day, but it's getting better.

At least we have this wonderful place where we can come and share our sadness as well as our happy memories and everybody here certainly understands!

The urn sounds very nice. It's a very bittersweet day, the day they come home. More bitter I think than sweet, but good to have them home anyway.

Sending hugs,

Jackie, Angel Abby's mom

It's just over two months since we lost Tate and I still miss him like crazy.  He was my furbaby but he was also my comfort.  He was such effortless company.  I think all human relationships come with some level of effort but Tate was just so easy.  I could take him anywhere and never worry about him misbehaving.  He was always ready for whatever I wanted to do: play time, visit-with-the-neighbors time, visit Grandma time, quiet together time, quiet separate-but-in-the-same-room time.  He was totally and completely in tune with me.

Don't get me wrong, I love Sam and spending time with her but she's still a puppy.  Maybe she'll grow into it but for now she's...well, she's still a puppy, I guess.  She has lots of wants and needs.

I was very ambivalent about Tate's ashes.  I just looked at that thing and thought, "That is not my dog."  Now his fur lock is another story - that is more real to me.  But the ashes are up at our cabin, we're planning to scatter them on the shore in the spring.  I like that idea, he'll become a part of the place, his favorite place.

At one week, you really are still in the thick of it.  Time does heal but it can't erase the scars.  Indulge in pictures and videos, I still love to do that.  Like Jackie said, it does get easier.

The house is so quiet for me today.  So empty.  I miss him to the point that I want to sleep the whole day away, but I can't seem to close my eyes again.  I am glad you posted this subject, I am comforted to know that there are others who wake up feeling this way too.  It makes me sad though, I don't want any of us to feel this way.

I am playing sad songs on youtube and getting teary eyed.  Then I check to see if I have any pic's I haven't looked at yet.  Then I look over and see his empty bed.  Furbabies, yup.  I feel like I just lost my nine year old son.  My joyful, noisy, play in the dirt but be the sweetest kid ever, son.

I too can't imagine never hugging him or kissing his face again.  I am so sorry about Valentina.  Please know I know how you feel, and I am so sorry. 

Elizabeth, Sammy's mom

We lost our much loved idiot Chloe 7 months ago due to snail bait poisoning (a stupid, idiotic, dumb memory lapse by me, I left the box out while distracted by sick kids) – it was a absolutly hideous death that will haunt me for the rest of my life. it also happened to be my birthday that day aswell. She was only 1 and such a absolute idiot, full of energy fetch maniac that was always in water, any water, the kids paddling pools never lasted long at all. I still miss her so much. We got Kayla a few weeks later and then Sarge was found to have his tumor then Kayla broke her leg so I have sort of been too busy to dwell in my grief but it still comes in the form of horrible nightmares about how she died. Our loved furbabies cause so much pain when they leave us but to be without them would be hideous. They give us so much love, trust and devotion during the time they are with us but that time will always be too short. We will be facing this again in the not too distant furture with Sarge after his visit too the vet last week, hopefully his is still with us in a few years but old age has hit hard and fast so we will enjoy the time we have with him and forget about what the future holds. Dogs live in the moment and we need to aswell for the moments are limited and we owe it too them to enjoy and treasure each one.

It's been 10 weeks since Sammy died and we still tear up almost every day. And I can't sleep, as you can tell from the time I am posting this. I just miss him so much. He was an integral part of our day — from inviting him up on the bed for a morning snuggle (later lifting him) to laughing at him as he hopped up the stairs to go to bed, his mouth stuffed with his "naked" tennis ball and a selection of sound-making toys. He was sooooo cute. When he dropped one he would cry and whimper until I came to help him. When he laid down and I put the rescued toy beside him, he would thank me by kissing me. He had the best manners.

Non-dog-lovers don't under the intelligence and personality that dogs have. It's sad that they don't experience the bond, which is like no other. Sammy — all 95 pounds of him — would lie beside me, his head on my pillow and his toes stretched down by mine. I loved the warmth and smell of him. He smelled like oatmeal and was soft and silky. What I would give to cuddle with him and kiss his bad-hair-day head. 

I would like to see him throw his signature tantrum when no one would play ball with him, look up to see those amber eyes staring at me,  see him sleep holding paws with his brother, hide my grin when he turned his head away from two or three treats (until we got to the one he wanted) or watch him dance with excitement when we went outside to swim in the lake.

Our bond was always strong, but became more so after he became a tripawd. We were in it for the long haul, and Sammy gave us complete trust. I think that was hard for Rick, because in the end he thought we failed him. We didn't; we did our best, but cancer is a monster seldom defeated.

Jan, I know what you mean about the ashes. When Rick brought them home and put them on the mantel, I was repulsed and upset. That box was NOT Sammy. Knowing that he was reduced to bone chips and ashes was more than I could bear. We, too, are scattering Sammy's ashes in the lake when we get there this summer. It was his favorite place in the world  and it is a fitting final resting place for his remains. But it is not Sammy.

My brave furkid taught me a lot about dignity and courage. I can only aspire to his strength of character.

Every time another tripawd warrior joins the others across the Rainbow Bridge it tears me up. All of us have wondered at some time, "Why us?" Yet, I think we are lucky to have loved these extraordinary dogs. 

Valentina, Abby, Comet, Tate, Rio, Sammy, Manda, Trouble, Tasha, Chloe, Jerry, my Sammy and the others not posted here — you were loved and will never be forgotten.

Beth, Smilin' Sammy's mom