Butch

Hi Linda, My condolences to you and your family (furred and non-furred) for Barney's loss. It's a terrible thing that we all have to go through eventually in exchange for all the love and companionship they so unselfishly give to us. Sometimes I wonder why nature made dogs and cats have such short lives compared to ours, and someone gave me the obvious (but not to me) answer: in order that we may have the privilege of knowing more of them. That's a great way of looking at it I think. As with the loss of my Daisee back in June (five weeks tomorrow), no dog will ever replace Barney, but there will be (and should be) other dogs in our lives. Fortunately for us (Pancho and me), puppy girl Lulu found us, and has already made our lives richer and happier by her presence. No, she's not Daisee, and she never will be, but she's her own dog, and is making her mark on us already. I'm sure it will be the same for your family. I just finished reading "The Hidden Life Of Dogs" by Elizabeth Marshall Thomas. I'd read it a couple of times before, but I always enjoy re-reading her insights (however unscientific they may be) into dog behavior and how they see us. The end of the book made me shed a tear before, but having read it after losing my Daisee, I had a good long cry just now (hence I'm back on this board!), but in a good way. I strongly recommend reading it when you get a chance. I hope your days to come will be brighter. Remembering all the joy that Barney brought to you is the sweet part of it, and you'll always have that. My very best wishes, Butch

Thanks y'all. It's still very hard, and I still cry when I think of Daisee. I guess I always will. The good news in our lives is that on Tuesday 6/21 I went to a local shelter and adopted Lulu. She's a real love. A little 4-5 month old hound mix (100% dog) with the sweetest disposition I've ever seen. She's house trained, and has shown no intent to chew anything in the house but her toys! She's pretty much a dream puppy. She'll never replace my Daisee, but she's already wormed her way into our hearts (mine and Pancho's). And who could possibly resist that stand-up left ear? Butch

Sorry to hear about Oscar and Itchy. Losing them is never easy (it's only been a little over 2 weeks since I lost my Daisee), no matter how it happens. The empty feeling is normal, although I know that doesn't make it any easier to take. Please don't beat yourself up for having been at work or otherwise not with them. We have to live in the world as it is, and as much as we'd love to be with our friends 24/7, it just isn't possible. And I think they understand that. Your having moved to a new city just before Itchy's death can't be helping your situation. Having just come through such a loss, I can tell you that one of the best things I've done in the 2 weeks since I lost Daisee was to go to the shelter and adopt another dog. Lulu isn't a replacement for Daisee (no dog could ever hope to be), but she has brought the spark of life back into the house, and especially into my other dog Pancho. Like Itchy after Oscar's death, Pancho became very depressed and listless. She's 10 this year, and I couldn't bear seeing her like that (not to mention that I was crying a lot as well). Lulu and I had an immediate connection, and when she arrived home, it literally transformed both Pancho and me. She's a little love, and has really brightened things up for us around here. Do I still miss my Daisee? YOU BET! In fact, last night I was watching "Il Postino" on DVD. At the end you discover (indirectly) that one of the main characters has died. For some reason, after several days without any tears, all I could think about was my Daisee. I cried and cried. It does hurt, and it will doubtless continue to hurt for a long time. But the tears are good for cleansing the soul, and I know Daisee is with us always as long as Pancho and I remember her. I've put up several framed photos of Daisee in the house, and I often stop and tell her what a good girl she was, and just try to remember the happy, healthy times we had together for many years. I hope this helps a little bit.. Butch

I'm very sorry for your loss. I'm a Licensed Veterinary Technician, and I can tell you that from my own personal experience, the decision to end a friend's suffering is not one you should beat yourself up over. I've been there for dozens (hundreds, probably) of these moments, and have had to perform more than my fair share myself. My honest belief is that animals don't fear death the same way we do. My understanding of what I get from animals is that they see death as just the natural part of life that it is. Whether it's "natural" or induced, I don't think matters all that much. If the decision to end suffering is one that is made in good faith, and as a way to do nothing more than end suffering, then I think that while it's very difficult for we humans, it's the most noble thing we can do. To see a beloved friend decline and suffer the indignity of not being able to control his or her body, or to be in constant pain (which they are *very* good at hiding until it gets really bad) is very difficut for us to bear, and is something we should not feel bad about helping our friend to overcome. When medicine can no longer provide relief or cure, then ending the suffering is the only humane thing we can do for our friends. I only wish we were as wise about the way we treat our fellow humans at the end of life. Please know that almost every other person I've ever met in this situation has felt the same way. Always wondering if it was the "right" time. I think when the time comes, it's the right time, no matter if it's today or a week from today. Letting go is the hard part, ending the suffering shouldn't be. Butch

I've known the day was coming, but I had always imagined it would be preceded by a decline in health, and the horrible decision of when to put the suffering to an end - and then to be with Daisee when that time came and hold her in my arms when we said goodbye. But instead, my healthy, happy, frolicking 12 year old Daisee, who was fine (playing with her little sister and rolling around in the freshly mowed grass) at 3:30, was dead in the yard at 5:00. I've never been so devastated in my life as I was when I went to call her in for dinner and instead found her lifeless body out in the yard where she'd been playing 90 minutes earlier. No sign of struggle, no injuries, no blood, no nothing. Just my best friend in the world dead. I must have sounded like a lunatic with my screaming (as if I care). I've cried more in the past 30 hours than I've cried in my life all put together, and the hurt is so immense it feels like it will never go away. I'm a veterinary technician, so I understand that these things can and do happen, but they don't happen to me and my Daisee, y'know? She had had an emergency splenectomy (spleen removal) last August, and came through with flying colors. Ever since she's been my same old silly Daisee girl, as healthy as could be. Yesterday she ate her breakfast, took naps as usual, helped me clean up the bowl I'd made egg salad in (her favorite), and then come out to inspect my mowing job. And then she was gone. Just like that. I'm so thankful for so many things - she didn't suffer; she didn't go into a decline before she died; her last day was a gorgeous sunny, breezy summer day; she was with those that she loved right up until the end; she didn't have to suffer the indignity of a planned death (as good as that is for our pets sometimes); and she was obviously happy and healthy and feeling fine just before the end. But oh God it hurts so much right now I can hardly stand it. I never knew I could or would miss her so much when she was gone. I live out in the country, where she was queen of all she surveyed. I'm going to bury her next to the little stream that runs past my house, where I can see her grave from my bedroom window. Someday I'll plant a tree there to remind me of her always. I'm thankful also that her little sister Pancho is still with me. She's very huggable and cuter than almost anything. But poor Pancho has never ever been without her Daisee, so I'm not sure how she's going to fare for the next little while. I'm about to start nursing school in August, so I'll be gone all day every day, and I'm really worried about her. I know there will be other dogs in my life, maybe sooner, maybe later, but there will be. I'm so worried about Pancho though, I'm almost tempted to let another dog find us sometime soon, but that brings a whole other set of problems in my current situation. I know this probably sounds a little over the top, but Daisee and I had been through so much stuff together (depression, marriage, divorce, several moves, quitting my career and going back to school, etc, etc, etc). It's just going to be really hard without her, and there will certainly never be a replacement for Daisee, that I know. I hope everyone will know the kind of love Daisee and I shared for nearly 11 years. But parting is such pain. I only hope the memories of that love and devotion are enough to heal it for me.. Peace everybody, Butch Newport, VA Daisee Lulu 1993 - 6/15/2005