Some days my heart just sinks looking at my pack.  8 year old cat, 6 year old dog, 5 year old cat and two one year old pups. How can we do what we've done once, 5 more times? (and inevitably many more, we'll always be a multi-fur kid house). It pains me to look at my beagle and see her begin to enter her 'senior' years. While she's still full of spunk she's taken up napping in the sun, over destroying the toilet paper (most days, anyways). The white on her face is beginning to pop up and she's starting to look tired. I know she has many years left in her still, but it's evident now that she won't always be my spunky little puppy. Her day will come too, and I can't even think of that without tearing up. It's been nearly a year since we lost our big guy (who is the reason we found our little tripawd Dante). I still cry for him some days like I did the day we had to let him go. Some days in the chaos of two puppies, I cry for the quiet, gentle old soul that he was and the calming presence he brought to our lives. 

But then I remind myself it wouldn't hurt so much, if we didn't love him so much. He brought so much to our lives, as all our furry ones do, and without that we couldn't feel the intense emptiness and pain we do when we lose them. The harder and more we love them (and they us) the harder it is to let go, but the better our lives will forever be because he had them. It pains me greatly when we lose tripawd heros or their siblings. They're losses that I feel deeply, and my heart aches for those who are having to adjust to life without and come to terms. 

I bought my boyfriend a picture frame for Christmas. It has a picture of our big guy, and his name engraved. It has joined our ever growing shrine of memories on the bookshelf, along with his collars and urn. It also has this poem, beside the picture:

There must be dogs in heaven:

Big, sparkling eyes all aglow,
Wagging tail and happy feet....
The way you sometimes looked at me,
I just knew you were going to speak!

You never asked for much -
A gentle word, a pat, a treat
Always faithfully at my side
You helped make my life complete

There must be dogs in heaven
I do believe this is true;
A special place for man's best friend to rest
When their time on earth is through

Although you left this world before me,
Your memories I'll cherish forever more.
I hope you've gone to heaven
And found the doggie door.

-Al Littleton and Brenda Smith.

The firsts are what got me:

I am a creature of habit and for years, my daily activities revolved around Charlie, even more acutely so after his diagnosis.

You know how most dogs do that whole “I am so freakin’ glad you’re home!” thing after leaving them for a period of time? That was actually how I was with Charlie. I’d rush home and run over to him, so excited to see him. After he passed, even the next day, I was so lost. No reason to rush home. A first.

No need to make him breakfast with the whole host of supplements and medications.

The first time I went and picked up my daughter from work, she even looked in the back for Charlie. The first of all the rides: to the store, post office, school. I would go out of my way to make sure he got all those rides in, now, expediency is the order.

He died on October 25^th. We went and got pumpkins, but didn’t have room to put them in the back seat. They went into the way back, Charlie’s spot. We toughed it out, but it still had his harnesses from when he went to the rainbow bridge. To this day I haven’t removed them. I won’t vacuum back there, either.

Speaking of, I cried the first time I vacuumed.

The first person to go “How’s Charlie?”. The second person to go “How’s Charlie?” and so on. Turns out, he’s all I had been talking about, so everyone knew, however I didn’t inform everyone when he passed, so that was tough.

The first time going to the fast food restaurant and not getting “extra” for him.

The first snow and him gulping copious amounts all the while being admonished for potentially making him sick.

Eating any food and not having him subtly stare at you, more than willing to finish what you won’t.

Not having to quietly put on my shoes or socks, or grabbing my purse. He always knew it was a sign we were going for a ride. Now I can be all loud, although I still hesitate, waiting for the living room to shake with excitement. He’d do the same thing if I brushed my hair, but now, silence.

All the holidays: Halloween, no costume, no trick or treating. Thanksgiving, no Charlie hair in any of the dishes and there was no reason to cook the innards. Christmas, putting up his stocking was very difficult. I put the monkey-butt cat toys in there, just so it didn’t feel so empty.

Again, I wouldn’t trade any of those days of him being a tripawd and I couldn’t have gotten through it without the support here. I just miss him everyday and will often say outloud “Miss ya buddy!”, of course with no one around, generally while driving, looking in the rearview mirror for him.

Although I haven’t been posting, I had been visiting the site here. The recent losses, like someone had already pointed out, were emotionally devastating to me, too. They have all been so kind and supportive and I looked up to both the dogs and their parents, when I first came here and since. I just don’t have the words to express my empathy. Thank you to all.

Ms. VQ,

I hope you'll stick around.  We sure miss you.

When i lost Noodle, I cried and cried. He was such a sweet boy. Every time i use half&half in my coffee, i think of him because he LOVED creamer. i would smuggle creamer in my purse to bring back to him. Noodle 02/2000 – 11/2009

Then, i lost the love of my life, Shelli. The cancer ate her inside out but she was such a trooper, her tail was 90 to nothing at the vets the morning we put her down. She loved the vet, Dr. Knapp. Shelli 10/2003 – 9/2010

Now all I have is Mousie. 5/2005 – present. I worry about losing her too. She's rotten at obedience, so i am super protective of her to make sure she doesnt dart out to attack something and (EEEKKKKK) get hit by a car. She just doesnt MIND at all because she has a very fast OCD bird brain (Shelli was the queen of obedience, such a proper girl)

I faced this with my Jazzy.  I wish I could tell you how very special she was.  It has been almost 1 1/2 years.  She was our "alpha" girl.  She was the smartest, most reliable, closest friend I had.  I felt so safe with her, we were a team. We had her 17 years.  I have regrets over her ending, but mostly now I am doing well because I know she had a good life.

I can't fathom the thought of losing my Sammy.  He needs me and loves me like no other I have had in my life.  He is joy incarnate, he is my bubble of peace in this world. 

I read all of your feelings, I hear your pain.  My heart hurts for everyone of you.  I am just so grateful you are all still here to help me go through this journey too, and to help and be there for each other and other dogs and people to come.  You are such really wonderful people.

Elizabeth