January 21st, 2017
Goodbye my sweet girl
Posted by teri in Uncategorized
I knew, I knew all along. I simply was doing my very best ostrich imitation.
Isa had been having trouble getting around since well before Christmas. I thought it was the cortisone wearing off in her back. I still think that was an issue, but evidently not THE issue. She’d been eating very inconsistently as well.
Saturday she was on the bed playing with me, our long-standing weekend wrestling match and something she’d not been interested in doing in longer than I’m willing to admit. She was too close to the edge and rolled off. A perfect turtle trapped between the bed and the wall. I hauled her out, she shook it off and I didn’t think much more of it. She spent most of the weekend on her bed, not moving around much at all. Again I didn’t think too much of it – it had been that way for a while. I did notice Sunday that she was limping on her front leg.
Amazing what we can rationalize, isn’t it? I still clung to the belief that it was her back. At our regular Monday vet visit for her bandage change (her elbow never did heal), she was only barely walking, needed help with even a low curb. We were there to get her the cortisone shot as well so I thought we’d be okay in a few days once that kicked in. That was my plan anyway.
On Tuesday I was emailing a friend with the “weekend report” and suddenly remembered her falling off the bed. She must have hurt herself – I said very mean things to myself. Still I didn’t call the vet that afternoon, I waited to see if she was any better that evening. She wasn’t.
I called the vet in the morning. Our regular vet was off that day so I left a message for him and for our back up vet who was working that day. After some back and forth, I dropped Isa off for evaluation. I was still hoping it was a bruise or strained something from the fall. The tech helping me get her into the building commented on how stiff and obviously sore her right front leg was.
The back up vet called just before lunch. She talked for a while not saying much and I realized this was going to be bad news, I could hear it in her voice. This poor woman is same one that gave us the cancer diagnosis last summer. Eventually she got the words out – a metastatic lesion on her right shoulder. This stupid piece of crap disease didn’t even have the decency to metastasize properly. No, it has to start the torture all over again. The injustice of it is mind-boggling.
She kept talking for a while, “worst situation possible,” they could keep her there and we’d “take care of it” the next day or the next or I could take her home and bring her back into the office later. I said I’d call back. I needed to wrap my brain around the information.
They put a fentanyl patch on her and I brought her home. We stopped and got a puppy latte at Starbucks and McDonalds for dinner: two McDoubles for her and we split some fries. A couple of friends came over a little later and we had wine and hung out with her, lots and lots of cuddles. I brought the smaller mattress downstairs so I could sleep next to her rather than try to get her into the big bed and hurt her in the process. We cuddled all night.
She had a giant steak for breakfast courtesy of one of our evening guests and I got her another puppy latte (and coffee for me). A pig’s ear, bone broth and some scrambled eggs in the afternoon. Her appetite was just fine. Aside from several naps, she was alert and giving kisses and wagging her tail all day. That fentanyl is some good drugs.
I cuddled and talked with her all day. The neighbors came over in the afternoon to say goodbye and prop me up. About 4pm a house-call vet came. She gave Isa a sedative and then the magic elixir. I held her and talked to her the entire time. Her passing was very, very peaceful.
I’m wandering around now with a gapping hole in my chest. I frequently get stuck places, sit down to put socks on and forget to get up again. Sometimes I remember to eat. It’s probably good Wallee is insistent on her needs.
Isa visited me in my dreams last night, all four legs of course. She just sat with me while I petted her.
Run free my sweet girl.
Oh Teri, I’m so very sorry. Isa was so very lucky to have you! You obviously loved her a lot. You gave her everything you could, and made every decision based on what you knew at the time. Stupid cancer! She’s running around whole & happy and thanking you for loving her so very much.
Hugs to you,
Donna & Murphy
Teri, I am so sad and sorry to hear this – but your beautiful Isa knew your love to the last and knows there is nothing you would not do for her. Sweet dreams, dear, precious Isa.
Lisa & Angel Pofi
So sorry to hear you said good-bye to sweet Isa….cancer sucks
Paula and Nitro
I am so sorry to hear this. Isa was such a sweet girl, and she had been through so much. This is just so hard.
I just saw Isa’s banner! It is beautiful!
I am so sorry for Isa loss. She was a sweet girl.
hugs
Michelle & Angel Sassy
Oh my deat Teri, my heart just breaks for yoe and with you. Isz jumped into my heart from day one. I feel in love with this spunky senior as soon as I saw the first photo.
It’s no sense in trying to write anything right now. First of all, I know there are no words adequate to help you right now, plus, my tears are falling too hard.
All I can say for now is how very much I care and how very, very sad I am. No dog could have been loved more and certainly could not jave had a better send off as you celebrated his return home.
With so much love
Sally and My Chunky Spiritual Being Happy Hannah and Merry Myrtle and Frankie
Teri, we are so sorry, our hearts ache for the grief you are feeling right now. I wish there was something we could do to make this easier. Please, always remember you alone gave Isa the life dogs dream of, the one they deserve, and the final farewell that let her go with dignity. No dog, no human either for that matter, could ever ask for more.
That is so neat that Isa came to you in your dreams. Many people don’t have an experience like that until long afterward. Maybe it was the fact that she departed in the midst of such a magical place, with St. Francis’ spirit to help her along. I believe our Jerry was there too, as Santa Fe was one of his favorite spots on our two year road trip together.
The bond between you and Isa is unbreakable, clearly. It will only grow stronger through the years as her spirit fills your life with every day you walk this earth, until that day you reunite again.
For now, please try to take comfort in knowing that all our Tripawd heroes are there to welcome her at the Bridge, to romp with her and chase squirrels and splash and play into eternity. She is not alone, and neither are you. If there is anything at all we can do for you please don’t hesitate to call OK? You have our number, we will always be here.
Much love and condolences coming your way.
Even waiting a day, there are still o words, znd there are still tears.
But Jerry, and everyone said so many things so well.
One common theme you see throughout is no one could jave given Isa a bettrr life. No dog could have been loved more. No dog could have had everything possible done for them in this impossible journey, as well as throughout her entire earth journey.
No, yoj weren’t burying your head in the sand. It is so very, very rare that this stupid piece of crap brutal, cruel disease goes from one leg to another. And actually, you did gain a bit more quality time because the I jectio s did help! Had the metasis been discovered awhile ago,you may have just given up without some additional time for loving and spoiling. Ever since the amputation, Isa made it clear she was going to stay for awhile and just see how much more she couod be spoiled!
I KNOW the grief is unbearable right now. And, sadly, it will seem that way for awhile. You feel like it will NEVER stop and you don’t k ow how the World can continue on as though nothing has happened.
At some point, you WILL find comfort in giving Isa the best send off any dog could have. She wagged, she missed you, she ate like a Princess with gusto. She was home surrounded by love.
The intensity of this journey is like nomother. The constant 24’hr “watching over” our furbabies is a routine we didn’t even realize we did, until that routine is gone. The void seems suffocating and unbearably silent. The last few days are prevalent in your mind.
Please know this to be true: as Jerry always says, those few days are but a blinkmof an eye compared to the thousands of happy days and joyful memories you and Isa shared. That is what she wants you to remember!! That is what she remembers! In fact, I’m sure upon arrival at the zbridge all she did was brag about what a great rime she had withnyou!
And you know Isa pickednyiu, right? Isa picked you because her Soul came to earth to find out what locpve felt like; to find out what joy felt like; to find out what happiness felt like; And yes, to fi d out what steak tasted like, to fi d out what a Puppy Latte tasted like. And, of course, to find out what being spoiled felt like!!
And once her checklist was complete and her earthly body started ro fail her, Isa’s Soul was fulfilled ready to transition. And then, just as you gave her all those gifts, as well as the gift of release, she immediately let you know she was still with you and feeling great!!! Keep a little notepad by your bed. I have a feeling this gal is going to be connecting with you a lot through your dreams, and so many other ways too. And yes! The fact that Isa was almost immediately was able to connect with you in such a clear vivid way really emphasises the truly unbreakable bond you two have!
Teri, in time, you WILL slowly have the happier memories start to fill your empty heart. They WILL slowly push the grief further in the background. That’s a promise from each one of us who have been where you are.
As rough as this is, to not have ever had Isa in your life would have deprived you of so much joy, so many life lessons and so much love!
When you can, we would love ro see more pictures of this amazing Soul, and hear more about her.
We are surrounding you with our love and our hugs
Sally and My Chunky Spiritual Being Happy Hannah and Merry Myrtle and Frankie
Almost sounds like Isa could have written this herself just for you:
THE EULOGY
Look not where I was
For I am not there
My spirit is free
I am everywhere
In the air that you breathe
In the sounds that you hear
Don’t cry for me Mom
My spirit is near
I’ll watch for you
From the other side
I’ll be the one running
New friends by my side
Smile at my memory
Remember in your heart
This isn’t the end
It’s a brand new start
By: Carol Kufner
Our thoughts are with you.
Rebecca, Angel Bacon, and Hamlet
This is something that Martha (Oaktown Pack) posted for me when my Happy Hannah transitioned. Ivew always thought it validated the things I was going through. I remember I would get in the car to leave the house because I couldn’t stand the void, the loneliness. I would get to the end of the drive and turn around because I couldn’t stand to leave the house where I still felt her presence.
Things to do after your dog has died
Sweep the floor
Look out the window
Pant
Make a cup of tea and some toast
But then not eat them
Change the sheets on the bed
Try to sing
Start to cry
Forget what day it is
Stumble into a corner of the floor and hold your knees tightly
Keen
Pull yourself together
Make another cup of tea and this time drink it
Look out a different window
Stare at that spot on the floor where your dog used to stretch out, languid and happy, his paws twitching as he raced across sleep meadows and into dream ravines filled with moss and ferns and the scent of foxes
Look for the Kleenex
Use toilet paper instead
Wander around the house, your heart like a damned anvil in your chest
Heat up leftovers
Push them around the plate before leaving the entire thing in the sink
Look for what is not there
Hear things
Feel the forgotten fur beneath your fingertips
Feel the forgetting begin
Hold a memory, any memory, bright and shining, soft and sad, smelling of wet fur and leaves, with a whisker there and muddy paw prints left on the stairs, of a walk of a hike of a trip to the park with a treat and a bone and a belly rub snacks stolen off the counter and tug of war and the squeaky toy a glance of complicity in play with your hand on head with tail wagging and breath misting in the morning light or the moon over the trees while an owl croons ears are pricked and nose to the ground sniffing, sniffing, sniffing following the invisible trail to its joyful finding
Put on your pajamas
Turn around three times before you curl up by the rope toy and find yourself chasing the echo of a bark into a night that will never end
Grow a tail
Catherine Young 11.27.12
I am so, so sorry to hear that sweet Isa has gone. I’ve always loved reading about her and been deeply touched by your relationship. She was a very special dog and she was incredibly lucky to have you for a Mum. Please be kind to yourself, Teri. You could not possibly have done more, or acted from purer, more loving instincts. It was her time, and you let her go, peacefully, secure in your arms. My heart aches for you in your loss.
Clare xxx