A Tough Day for Us

http://www.petloss.com/poems/maingrp/rainbowb.htm

Hugs

Tom,

I was really taken back by your post. In fact, I was crying through most of it. That is why it has taken me a bit to respond to it.

The older I get and the more I go through life experiences, the more I realize that there are two forces in life - really, just two, that we all have in common.

One is the joy of having a new life come into your existence. The other is that some day, that life will leave your existence.

I'm afraid that I wear my heart on my sleeve. I don't deal very well with loss. Which is really weird, in a way, because you would think that I'd be used to it. I've love most all of my friends to AIDS. I never used to say that. I don't know why. Is it because deep down, I think that there is a stigma to having AIDS? Or, is it a response to the respect of their privacy? I honestly don't know.

I do know that during all the years I was helping my friends with AIDS, I was strong, I think because they needed me to be strong. I now realize, years later, that I was distant from a lot of that - emotionally distant. I think it was because that was what needed to happen. I wouldn't be able to help them if I wasn't in the right place.

I tried to do that with Brennan and Sasha, but was unable too. Brennan held a very special place in my heart, because he did so much for me. I suffered for a time from extreme depression. I withdrew from life, for the most part. I was in bad shape and on a lot of different medications. Brennan picked up on this and made me get up and do things - to care about something other than just laying down in despair. He could tell when I was getting bad and basically said, in his own way, "This isn't how we are going to get through this. You have me." So, I bonded with him, and all the protective shields that I put up around myself to protect me during the time I was losing my friends, came down.

When I lost him, I can't even begin to tell you how much I felt dead inside. I insisted on staying with him right to the end even though I knew what it was going to do to me, because, he would have done that for me. The last thing he felt was me holding him. The last words he heard was me saying, "I love you."

I know how you feel. When I read your comment, I knew. I'm sorry for what you went through. It honestly doesn't get easier with time. To write about this is to take me back five years, and the emotions have not healed. They are still raw. They still hurt like hell. And yes, it was all worth it. I was lucky just to know Sasha and Brennan.

Bill and Kent,

I know how you feel as well.

I have always been a "dog person". My mother is very allergic to cats (I am mildly so as well) and so having one growing up was not an option. It was not until I met my wife that I was really around cats a lot. Her family had at one time 7 cats and always over 3 (plus lots of "outside" strays) while she was young (whether one can give quality attention to that many pets is another issue - I'm a "few great friends not a ton of casual friends" kind of guy and I tend to look at pets the same way - but their pets were all loved).

After we got married, we adopted our first cat, a stray that her parents found near their house. His name was Oliver and he was our first baby. Great, here come tears while I'm at work! :) He was the sweetest little guy. Sadly, he developed tumors in his chin and throat when he was only 4 years old. We used to let him sleep on our cable box ... he loved how warm it was ... and I always wonder if that had anything to do with it. Needless to say, I've never let our cats near anything like that again. He had one surgery to remove a tumor under his tongue and after that he couldn't really eat. He would throw his head back in an attempt to get some food back there. I was able to keep him fed for a while putting tiny bits of food on his tongue off the handle end of a plastic spoon. He worked so hard to get that down, but he lost a lot of weight. Soon after, other tumors in his throat got bigger and we had to face the inevitable. We had a lot of good times with him in the end and played all his favorite games. He loved to fetch ... yes, he would fetch ... those plastic rings that are left when you open milk jugs. We finally talked to the vet and decided it was the best thing for him to put him to sleep. I held him in my arms the way he loved to be held - he'd lay his head on my elbow and let his front legs dangle down. My wife said she couldn't be in there, but I wanted to feel it all and be there for my Oliver so he could feel a friendly hug as he passed away. It still hurts terribly to think about that day.

My wife and I just had our second baby, human baby that is :), this past Sunday. She is a beautiful tiny little girl named Katherine Elise. I thought about my son and my wife and all our pets and dear friends when she was being born. I thought about how much it would hurt to lose any of them. I guess it's worth the possible pain (or the actual pain in those unfortunate cases) to feel that much pure love for someone or something else. Bill, I know you know this ... you write about it all the time. Love for another person or thing is a precious thing that should be cherished and protected. It is not trivial and cannot be done halfway. It might not hurt as much if we didn't love as deeply as we do, but it also wouldn't feel as great. That's why I want to feel the good and the bad, so I'll always know how much it all means to me. Just remember that feeling that much pain means at one time you felt just as much love. It's worth it.

Thinking of you both,
Tom

Thank you both for your kind comments.

We went to bed last night in a very sad state, closing the door on a sad anniversary for both of us.

Jeff, I understand fully what you are saying about the man who was taking his dog in to have it put to sleep. With Brennan, it was a bit different. With very careful administration of medications, some of which were very expensive, we were able to buy Brennan a year and a half more life, than the two week diagnoses from the doctors. And, it was quality time, where he felt well again. The doctors were amazed that we would go to such lengths for him. And he didn't even mind the medication because he felt so much better afterwards. It was only in the last couple of days of his life that he felt poorly. Then one night, he climbed on my bed, got very close to me for about ten minutes, then got up. He came right up to my face and looked right into my eyes. I knew he was saying goodbye to me at that moment. I said, "Are you going to leave me now?" He then gave me a kiss on my cheek, and just as quickly fell over into a seizure. I picked him up, and we rushed him to the hospital.

While in the hospital, as we were talking to the doctor about our next course of action - as the doctor was trying to tell me that he didn't know if he could bring him back to a point he would feel "well" again, Brennan had a second seizure. And I could tell from his swaying back and forth, that he had lost his eye site. I picked him up, and talked to him. The doctor told me, "You have to let him go." I knew he was right. It wouldn't have hurt more if someone had just ripped my heart out.

His passing was peaceful. After it was over, I held his limp body. I remember the nurse taking my arm and looked right at me after seeing the tremendous love we had for Brennan. She said to me, "When it's my time to go, I pray that someone will be there to care this much for me, and to have the courage to put my needs above everything else." We stayed with him a short while, and went home. Sasha knew. She could read us. She let out this awful mournful sound that I had never heard from her. And I knew that she was crying from it.

With her passing, it was different. We took her to a specialist because she had a blockage and couldn't urinate. She was in pain. The hospital sent us to a specialist that only specialized in urinary track issues for cats. The specialist gave us hope that he could fix the problem. I left her in a waiting room, gave her a hug, and said to her, "Be brave, my little girl. We'll see you soon."

We waited patiently during the operation. Then the call came. The doctor told us she had cancer and there was "nothing to work with" in terms of fixing the problem. The cancer was advanced. I told him, "Can you bring her out of it so I can say goodbye." He said, correctly, "I don't want to bring her out of the anesthesia because she would suffer." I said, "But I told her it would be ok - that I would see her soon - to be brave." He replied, "I know this is terrible for you, but we have to think of Sasha now. You have to let her go." I thought the words, but I could hardly get them out of my mouth. I was finally able to say, "Ok, let's let her go and give her peace."

He called me back twenty minutes later, and assured me that there was absolutely no other options available. He assured me that I did the right thing. I guess that is something, but to this day, all I remember is telling her to "be brave", and I've never forgiven myself for lying to her. That's the hard part because that's what I remember.

Of course you know my feelings on this topic, Bill, but I do want to let you know anyway that I honestly know how it feels to lose a pet so dear to your heart. In twenty days I will need to write the same sort of entry for Athena, and already I tear-up at the thought.

When we went to pick up Jacqueline from the animal hospital a couple weekends ago there was a man sitting in the lobby holding his small, fluffy white dog. It was obvious the man's heart was breaking. Without a word from my wife or I he spoke, and told us that he was there to have his pet put to sleep. Tears rolled down his cheek as he pondered out loud if it was the right thing to do. My wife assured him that it was if he felt it to be so in his heart.

I told him it is our duty as the caretaker of these animals to see to it that they do not suffer needlessly. I told him this through tears of my own. I looked brave, but I know I am not. I have yet to have to perform this act for any of my animals. They are all young and healthy, and God willing it will be a long time before I have to take them to visit the vet one last time. But I know when the time comes, I will be a complete wreck.

I think, however, that it hurts worse when you lose them early. Athena's loss took me by surprise, and it just eats at my heart that I wasn't there for her.

I guess that's just the way it is some times though. I hope one day to see her again as well. Then I can tell her how sorry I am for not being there.

Take care, Bill.

Our pets are like our children,when they hurt we hurt, they give us unconditional love,what more can we ask for,sasha was a beautiful cat,and she will always have a place in your hearts, i went to a store to find a pet and i was looking for a dog,but this yellow paraket had other plans for me,she was perched on a stick in a cramped cage with about 20 other birds it broke my heart to see this,a small head poked up from behind and looked at me with her sad eyes it was love at first sight,my neice ashley's first word was tweety so i named her tweety she was bright yellow,she was my companion for 11 years she died the same night my grandmother died in 2000.