Chris,

We were away in the woods for two days, and just returned to read your devastating news. We are so, so sorry. Bonnie is and will always be a hero to us, for showing what dogs are made of and how they can overcome such unfair medical situations with grace and love.

Our hearts are aching for you, we understand completely the pain and grief you are feeling, and we don't think you are overreacting at all. The unconditional, selfless and forgiving love that our dogs give to us is what makes saying goodbye so difficult. The relationships we have with human beings just can't come close. Only true dog people understand that.

It hurts to hear you be so hard on yourself. Please know that you gave Bonnie the best life a dog could ask for. You did so, so much for her, but sadly, like Seanne said, to us humans, “everything is never enough.” When Jerry left, I beat myself up quite a bit for not doing enough. It's so hard not to go over the “what ifs” and “if onlys,” but you need to keep reminding yourself; even if you had tried a last ditch something or other, what kind of quality of life would Bonnie have had? And for how long?

Chris, I urge you to contact the Colorado State University Argus Institute ASAP. They are an incredible group of sympathetic professionals with a focus on helping pawrents cope with grief, will be a tremendous help to you and the service is absolutely free. You can also feel free to come to the chat room too, just let us know when in the Schedule Your Chats forum topic. We are here to help.

Meanwhile, we found this poem that Seanne posted a while back. Hope it helps ease the pain just a little.

“The Last Battle”

If it should be that I grow frail and weak, and pain should keep me from my sleep,

Then will you do what must be done, for this last battle can't be won.

You will be sad I understand, but don't let grief then stay your hand,

For on this day, more than the rest, your love and friendship must stand the test.

We have had so many years, you wouldn't want me to suffer so.

When the time comes, please, let me go.

Take me to where my needs they'll tend, only stay with me til the end.

And hold me firm and speak to me, until my eyes no longer see.

I know in time you will agree, it is a kindness you do to me.

Although my tail its last has waved, from pain and suffering I have been saved.

Don't greive that it must be you, who has to decide this thing to do:

We've been so close- we two these years, dont' let your heart hold any tears.

With much love and many hugs,

Rene

We agree: two weeks mandatory bereavement leave for our furry kids!

Chris, please remember, you didn't end her life, the cancer did. Her spirit was ready to leave this earth long before you took her to the vet and helped her soul cross over.

We believe that a soul of our loved ones never dies, it just changes form and guides us through life in other ways. She will always be with you, just keep an eye out for her messages, they'll be there.

Try this: every time you start to get upset, play the "remember when" game. Remember something she did in her prime, something that brought sheer joy to all of you. Gradually, it can help.

We will keep the chat open tonight if you want to talk.

Many, many hugs to you.

chris-bonnie said:

 I really think my problem is that I feel I rushed the morning and now there is nothing I can do about that.  I know she was ready, but I should have taken more time for everyone to be ready.  I think that once I decided, I rushed before I changed my mind.

When I had to say goodbye to my pawrents, it happened in much the same way. Sometime during the night I reached the point where my Mom and Dad previously agreed would be the sign time to release me. Mom woke up and saw the look on my face, and just knew she had to make that call to the vet. She was just out of bed, but ran to a payphone (we were in Yellowstone and didn't have cell service), and within a half hour of us waking up and seeing how tired I was, she had an appointment at the clinic for that afternoon. Somehow she found the strength that morning to do it, because she knew it had to be done for my spirit's sake. She too was afraid if she didn't act quickly, she would selfishly chicken out and allow me to deteriorate even further than was fair to me.

Ultimately, you wonderful tripawd pawrents find the strength to carry out this heavy responsibility, despite the pain you know it will bring. Please know that all of us furry kids are grateful for this last act of humane kindness.

I know that soon you and the fur kids will be back into a new routine, it'll happen. Give it time, and hang in there OK? We are thinking of you.