Caring for a Three Legged Dog or Cat

Hi everyone,

Even though my feelings are all over the place since I lost Kermit, I'm hoping my experience might give someone else a glimmer of hope in their loss.  There have been soo many losses in the tripawd community lately that I know many are suffering as I do.

Kermit earned his wings on May 29th and since then I've been all over the map. Great for a few days (minutes?) & then a wreck…It's been over 3 months & I still haven't mustered the strength to send thank-you's to his wonderful vets & techs & everyone who sent condolences, but I think I can manage that soon. 

I finally was strong enough to get Kermit's ashes from the vet last week & find myself feeling good & then suddenly I'm sitting on the floor with the urn open & the little bag in my lap, bawling my eyeballs out.  I went to a Pet Celebration Ceremony last night at the "pet funeral home" (a human one that does pet cremations & ceremonies as well) that cremated Kermie & I was such a mess that random strangers kept trying to comfort me.

I had a very vivid dream about him a couple weeks ago... He was still a tripawd, but he was fit, & happy, and I was thrilled to see him, even though I knew I had a limited time to enjoy him.  In the dream we laughed & played & cuddled & it was awesome.  When I woke up, however, I felt as though I had just lost him all over again. Crushed.

I've had a terrible crisis of faith since he's been gone; I never questioned the existence of doggy heaven or someplace souls go after they pass through this life... but now I find myself wondering if we're not all just worm food.  Still struggling with that one; hope I was right the first time & wrong now! 

I spent 11 years where, no matter what devastating thing happened or how awful I felt, I couldn't cry uncontrollably for more than 10 seconds, because he would be in my lap, licking my tears & making me laugh. I never realized how much that helped me until he was gone. Wow, what strength comes from giant, wet kisses & a furry, body-wagging hug! It would pain me beyond description if I thought my devastation was bothering him from across the bridge the way it did when he was here.

But I think in regards to my OVERWHELMING feeling of emptiness after all this time I may have had an epiphany yesterday:  I think a big reason for this enormous feeling of emptiness is that I really identified with Kermit & appropriated his personality as part of my own.  And now he, and it, are gone & I'm left to fend for myself.  No more adorable doggy crutch.

Kermit was a HUGE personality.  Everyone who met him remembered him forever; even in death! The woman who runs the cremation facility even remembered him!

He was the ultimate goofball, but he was also incredibly strong, hard-headed, fiercely loyal & protective, handsome & stately & garnering compliments constantly, smart (but no one knew that right away because he was such a dork) , loud & unapologetically growly, ENORMOUSLY entertaining; he was a huge attention whore but it was just because he loved EVERYONE- SO MUCH that he couldn't get enough, and everyone loved him back.

Exactly the way I'd like to describe myself, but I most certainly don't live up to all that; and if I did it would be because of a big ego, not because of the pure, unadulterated joy that he had & gave to everyone in his path.

In addition to the fact that he made me laugh out loud EVERY SINGLE DAY, and made me feel ADORED no matter what stupid thing I did, I think I used him to express what I wanted to be.  

I am forced to admit that things like cleaning my house are infinitely easier with him not here- he attacked the feather duster, humped the comforter & played tug with the sheets when I changed the bed (ALL my sheets have holes in them compliments of Kermie), went absolutely batshit crazy when I used furniture polish, attacked any rake or shovel I tried to work in the yard with, bit holes in my wheelbarrow tire... anyway, you get the idea.  But even with all that, I'd give almost anything to have it all back. He was a wildman most of the time, but he was the snuggliest, cuddliest gentlest angel dog when he climbed into my lap every day.

I never so much as went to pee or sat on a chair without Kermit from day one.  As a puppy he insisted on being in my lap (and anyone else's lap!), even on the toilet.  I had to draw the line on that after the first 50 pounds or so, but he would still come with me or scratch & whine at the door if not allowed to. I haven't worked since 2008, so we were together almost 24/7 for a LONG time, and for the last 5 months of his life even more so. I read about sprinkling your dog's ashes in his "favorite place", but his favorite place was with me, without question no matter what.

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When I talked with the vet who euthanized him at home about what a hard time I was having, he referred to our dogs as "perpetual toddlers".  I don't have kids of my own, but I do know that there's a time in every child's life when their world revolves around Mommy- after they're old enough to reciprocate when shown affection but before they get too independent & want the world to revolve around them.  This is where dogs stay, and one of the reasons their passing is so painful. We are their sunshine and they are ours.

I mentioned earlier that I thought maybe this was hard because I'm codependent.  Well, I've decided that I am, and I'm pretty ok with that. I try not to burden my husband or family or friends with it, but it's a burden my dogs seem happily able to carry. So I think if I just make peace with that & recognize it, I can learn to accept the things that go along with it.

I've thought about getting another dog to fulfill my need for constant companionship.  Kismet isn't as ebullient as Kermie always was, so I don't get that same adoration I got from him.  However (aside from the fact that I promised my husband I wouldn't get another one yet), Kizzy spent her whole life in Kermit's shadow, and now at 9 years old she's blossoming into a whole new little personality.  She comes to restaurants & hotels with us, she swims like a fish when we visit my parents, and she's even less terrified of our cat (who, btw has a whole lot less stress without Kermit to chase him).  Kiz has always been very timid and she looks to me for security, safety, entertainment, and on her terms, snuggling.  She's not a lap dog or a follow-you-every-second dog, but she IS a no-leash-required, curl-up-behind-your-legs dog and a play-ball-til-your-arm-falls-off dog. And she deserves to have the same one-on-one attention that Kermie got because he demanded it while she stood patiently by.

The same vet & funeral service have started a pet-loss support group, so I look forward to joining them tomorrow & continuing to sort all this out.

Today I felt better because I think I'm getting a handle on a logical reason behind some of the massive, long-lasting sense of loss I feel.  Now (and later today when my new tiny urn necklace arrives & I have to fill it with a pinch of Kerm's ashes) I miss him terribly because of who HE was, not just because of who I am. That part is emotion & it's real & it's critically important, but it defies logic.  But I'm accepting of the ups and downs and the fact that it will take a lot longer to grow into the person Kermit thought I was.

I love you Little Man; hope to catch you in my dreams again soon. 

Slobbery kisses & waggly hugz to everyone struggling with their own journey.

~kristine