A special welcome to anyone who is new to The Grieving Room. We meet every Monday evening. Whether your loss is recent or many years ago, whether you have lost a person or a pet, or even if the person you are "mourning" is still alive ("pre-grief" can be a very lonely and confusing time) you can come to this diary and process your grieving in whatever way works for you. Share whatever you need to share. We can't solve each other's problems, but we can be a sounding board and a place of connection.
This is the schedule for the upcoming weeks:
August 18 - filled by bigjacbigjacbigjac
August 25 - filled by MsSpentyouth
September 1 - filled by Arnie
September 8 - filled by Random Factor
September 15 - filled by NewDirectionsMom
September 22 - filled by Lize in San Francisco
September 29 - OPEN
October 6 - OPEN
October 13 - OPEN
This link will take you to past editions of The Grieving Room: http://www.dailykos.com/...
Please contact smnytx(at)yahoo(dot)com to volunteer to host an upcoming week, or respond in this diary.
{{{Special Thanks to Dem in the heart of Texas for giving me her spot this week - and big hugs for all the support you have given me the past few weeks }}} And to all: apologies in advance for typos or grammar errors - this has been tough to write out.
To get to the present I have to go back into the past...
Monday, January 17, 2000 - Somewhere in Western NY
I was only there to take digital pictures of the cats and kittens available for adoption. I wasn't looking for a pet (already had an older cat at home and was still missing my Silky Terrier, Spike, who had passed away 2 years prior), my life was complicated and there was too much going on at that time to bring another pet into my life. But sometimes the universe gives you a very special gift you didn't realize you needed or wanted.
There I was, in the old WCSPCA building, helping out a friend and minding my own business when "he" found me. He was such a silly cutie :) A 4 month old? Black Lab mix, gangly and awkward. He was all legs, REALLY big paws, big head, REALLY big ears and skinny body. He came running up and immediately sat down next to me and leaned his body into my left leg. I patted his head then went back to taking pics of the cats and kittens. He didn't budge, he just sat there looking up at me with those big brown eyes. When I went to leave, he followed. I should have known at that moment resistence was futile, but I sucked it up, held my ground, rubbed his tummy and said my goodbyes. LS filled me in on his story during the ride home. He had been found on December 26th in a ditch in one of the small towns nearby. Probably dumped there (WTF, who the hell would dump a puppy over the holidays?) - unfortunately this kind of thing happens with kittens and puppies in the county more than it should. He was examined and treated by a vet, determined to be about 3 months old and fostered in a private home for a few weeks before coming to the shelter.
Hours after meeting him, I couldn't stop thinking and talking about that face, that personality, that little pup who just radiated fun and joy. I nudged TC, "what do you think? a puppy? wouldn't it be great to have a dog again?" We had both grown up with dogs, we are "dog people", and we had both lost our dogs during the time we had been apart. But we had just gotten back together after a year and a half split and we were still getting used to being a couple again. TC to me: "Get the dog if you want, but I don't want him here all the time. You'll have to take him back to the city during the week and he's your responsibility here on the weekends".
I thought about it all week and that Saturday I managed to talk TC into coming with me when I went back to take the final digital pics for the website. My motive? I wanted to see how this puppy reacted to TC before I made my final decision. We walked in the door and who should come running at us both? My mind was made up at that moment and I never regretted my decision.
For two years Hoondt commuted with me - Monday through Friday in the city and weekends, holidays, vacations in the country. But the fresh air and open space of the country was so much more fun (you can take the dog out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the dog). There were plenty of Monday mornings where I would have to drag him to the car (and it didn't help that he wasn't a "morning dog" - he preferred sleeping in till 10am when allowed). The fateful day was Monday, October 7, 2002. TC made the declaration (at 6:15am, as I was trying to again drag the then 95lb pound mass of unhappy, very stubborn dog to my car): "I'm on vacation this week, he can stay here with me. Besides it will be fun for him". Hoondt never went back to the city with me again and the very strong bond between the two of them was born that week (so much for "he's your dog" and "he's not staying here"). Initially I was jealous and hurt - geez, I felt like the Hoondt was rejecting me! But over time watching the man that I love so much and the dog that was so special to both of us, bonding and developing a very special relationship - I just knew and felt that this is what was meant to be.
We had an incredible 8 1/2 years with the Hoondt - time just flew by. TC and I could write a small book about his antics, adventures, travels and experiences. Hoondt loved us, loved life, enjoyed seeing and hanging out with his human pals, and had a thing for the ladies (he reserved the now famous body lean and head on the knee for all women who visited).
Every season brought new delights for the Hoondt! Summer was for chasing butterflies and bunnies, biting the blooms off flowers or just peeing on them. Jumping into his dog pool to cool off or going down to the creek or neighbor's pond for a swim on a hot day. Best of all was eating the fresh cucumbers off the vine - a favorite pastime (nothing like a dog with fresh cuke breath). Fall was for sniffing the crisp air, crunching through the leaves and jumping into newly raked leaf piles with his ball - but hunting season sucked - he dreaded and hated the sound of gunfire (even the sight of a gun made him slink away and hide - a bad experience from his past?). The first wood stove fire in late fall was also a special day. Hoondt would be right there sitting between TC and the stove, watching the flames through the glass and stretching out in front of it, soaking up the heat as soon as he could have the space to himself. Winter and snow had it's own magic. Snow drifts were another place to drive a ball down into and to dig, dig, dig. He loved coming with us when we snowshoed the property trails - us plodding along while he pranced on top of the packed snow, always leading the way. Spring was for hiding in and running through unmowed tall grass, sniffing fresh smells on the breeze, digging up old wood chuck holes and rolling around on his back with the sun warming his tummy.
A muscular 110 lb dog with an even bigger heart and spirit to match. He had so much love, energy, joy inside his body sometimes he could hardly contain it all. His "happy dog, waggle butt dance" was legend and he performed it whenever we walked through the door, when someone he really liked came to the house or when he knew he was going for a walk on the road (a walk meant the leash jump and grab was added to the choreography).
A dog this strong, healthy and active, we thought he would be with us for years and years. But, sadly it was just not meant to be for him or for us.
It all started on Saturday, June 28, 2008.
A friend of ours brought over his 13 year old Giant Schnauzer. B was hacking and coughing and Hoondt kept going over to him, sniffing and trying to get him to play. 5 days later Hoondt started coughing and hacking too. Of course I worried and looked up symptons on line. Found Kennel Cough - a canine bronchitis/cold - all his symptoms fit, even his cough matched the video clip. The vet said, give it a few days, he's healthy so he just may work it out of his system like you would a cold. We waited and watched, he seemed to get better. Then B came back over for a visit and Hoondt started coughing again, and even more upsetting he was having serious problems breathing - even collasping (on 7/6), trying to catch his breath after chasing a bunny.
Tuesday, July 8.
TC was finally able to get an appointment and took Hoondt to the vet. He didn't take a stool sample with him, but the blood tests didn't show anything unusual, and the vet agreed Hoondt had fluid in his lungs - bronchitis was the diagnosis - 2 doses of 800 mg antibiotics a day to stop it from going into pneumonia. 10 days of antibiotics and no improvement, in fact he started eating less and less, he got weaker and weaker. Back to the vet on 7/17, this time with a stool sample. Kennel Cough ruled out, blood still looking good, the only thing left was a chest x-ray...
Thursday, 7/17.
TC called my home at about 4:10pm and left a message (he knows I normally don't get home until around 4:30). When I heard the message to call him back ASAP my heart started pounding - I knew it would not be good news. "Hoondt's dying, he has cancer". My heart felt like it would burst out of my chest, I knew it wasn't a joke because the strongest man I know could barely hold back the tears and choked while saying those dreaded words. There were 5 tumors, the vet, a surgeon, said she could remove 4 but the largest one, the one putting pressure on his lungs and his now enlarged heart, could not be removed because of its location. In her opinion (and we confirmed with a couple of other vets) at this stage he would not respond well to chemo, all she could do was give him Prednisone to make him more comfortable and help his appetite.
We had a bonfire planned for the next evening. Even though our hearts weren't in it, we decided to go ahead with it because we knew it would be Hoondt's last - he loved bonfires, having all his pals around to pay attention to him, and running around in the dark. That night it took him 25 minutes and four stops to rest, to walk the 350 ft to the fire pit - a journey that in the past took him mere seconds. It was the last time he would muster up the energy and go back to the meadow area where in the past he loved to run wild.
Over the next couple of days we let all of our/Hoondt's friends know what he was going through. Bless them all - they made visits almost every evening to spend time with him and TC. My oldest,dearest friend and TC's neighbor, RG helped out by coming over several times a day to check on the Hoondt while TC was at work. I don't know what we would have done without their support and Hoondt loved having his pals there too.
Wednesday,7/23.
I went out to TC's. For 2 days the Hoondt wouldn't eat anything but his snacks and raw meat so I went and got a couple small beef tenderloin medallions - not in my budget, but I had just gotten my raise and it was worth every penny to see him enjoy eating something, anything! We were starting to see that every day he was getting weaker, staying closer to home - his world was getting smaller, he just couldn't walk that far before laying down to rest. That night we discussed what we wanted do when he let us know that he was ready to die. I won't get into detail - it was a pretty intense, personal and emotional conversation, but we both agreed that if possible, we wanted him to die at home and we wanted to have him privately cremated. The challenges would be the arrangements, but again the universe sends you answers and wonderful people when least expect, but also when you need them.
Thursday, 7/24.
The morning after our conversation an article appeared in the local newspaper. It was about a newly opened business, Pet Heaven Funeral Home. I called, trying to keep my composure while talking to co-owner, Mona, but when I broke down and burst out into tears all she said was "go ahead and cry, take your time, I know this is hard for you, I've been there too". She was wonderful and let me know that they would be there for us whenever the time came. As depressed and horrible as I was feeling, it was reassuring to know that when the time came, Hoondt would be in kind and gentle hands.
Friday, 7/25.
His condition was getting bad, really bad. Hoondt seem to get weaker by the hour. He wouldn't even eat raw meat anymore and TC was lucky to get a couple snacks in him (one had the Prednisone inside). Hoondt's paws were ice cold, his back end, legs and paws were bloated. He could only walk about 5 or 6 ft from the back door. We called the vet clinic to request euthanasia at home on Saturday, but they declined - we could bring him there and they would come out to the parking lot, but that was it (and oh, they would send him out of state for cremation for us). But we have a vet that lives in the neighborhood, a friend suggested that we call him and he agreed to come over on Saturday after work and he would exam Hoondt first to see if it really was time.
Saturday, 7/26.
Hoondt woke me up around 3:30am. I went to let him outdoors, but he wouldn't move. He laid there coughing, barely able to breathe, so I laid down next to him, cuddled him and stayed with him till he stopped and started breathing a little easier. He finally moved away from me, he wanted to be alone, so I tried to go back and get a couple more hours of sleep. TC got up with him around 7am, let him outdoors and came back to start coffee. When he went back out to get the Hoondt he couldn't find him, panic stricken he started calling for him then he looked down into the ravine and by the creek - there was Hoondt lying in the thick blanket of Periwinkle, TC still believes that he went down there to die.
He managed to get the dog back up to the house and they both sat outside in the morning sunshine. For hours we just sat with him, outdoors then indoors, holding his head in our laps, holding his paws, petting him, and talking to him. At one point TC was with him, gently rubbing his tummy, Hoondt's breathing became so shallow it almost stopped - TC told him if he wanted to go he could, that it would be ok. The time went by so slowly, but Doc G showed up around 1:30pm. Hoondt did manage to get up and greet him with some tail wags, but then just as quickly laid down again. Doc G listened to his heart and lungs - it wasn't good. Hoondt's heart was starting to fail and blood was not circulating through his body properly (his swelling was caused by the blood backing up in his hindquarters and his cold front paws indicated loss of circulation).
We agreed it was time, Hoondt's eyes told us he was ready. I just couldn't stay - my heart was breaking and I didn't want him to see my crying - Hoondt always got nervous when he saw me upset. TC cradled his head in his lap, talking to him, petting his head and shoulders. Doc G was so gentle with the Hoondt and he explained everything that he was going to do, and what would happen next. It was over quickly because of Hoondt's very weak condition. There was no pain, just peace. Hoondt was able to die at home. It was what we hoped and wanted for him - to be in a place he loved and with his best friend there to hold him.
We drove him to the pet funeral home. Both of us so quiet - almost afraid to talk because the tears would start again. Joe and Mona were there, prepared for our arrival (they stayed open late for us that day). We took care of the arrangements in a daze and in tears, but also being comforted by a great couple. Then came the time to say the final goodbye. We were able to spend private final moments, petting him, stroking those silky ears, face and rubbing that big chest just one last time. Hoondt looked like he was sleeping, that any moment he would jump up and start running around. If there are angels among us, then Joe and Mona are two that walk this earth. I don't know how we would have made it through those final moments without their compassion and sensitivity.
Present Days
To try and describe the emotions of the past two months of our lives would take words that I just can't seem to express, maybe because the feelings are still so deep in my heart and in my soul. Some may scoff and say, "it's just a dog, a pet. It's not like your kid died" (and yes I did have one very insensative person say that to me). Hoondt was family, best friend, constant companion, a very strong life force that shared our space and our lives. For us, he was the best dog ever (not so much in the listening and behaving departments - but in the pure joy and love he brought to and shared with us - and yes we told him he was the best dog ever, all the time). He was, in TC's words, one of those "once in a lifetime" dogs.
He came into our lives at a time when we weren't looking, ready or prepared. He captured our hearts with his unique, quirky personality and just like he unconditionally loved and accepted us for what we were/are; we loved him unconditionally, good traits and bad habits. He chose us, and we in turn did our best to live up to that honor and responsibility.
Yes, eventually, someday there will be another dog. It will probably be another Black Lab mix and a male - TC has started talking about, but I think he wants to go through four seasons of "firsts" (and there will be many) without the Hoondt. TC is having a very hard time right now. The two of them were constant companions, so he is feeling the void everyday - he's not ready for a new dog just yet.
We both agree life is suddenly very boring and much too quiet. We miss the sound of fast, thundering paws on the lawn, the Saturday and Sunday morning "preaching/barking" sessions, the very vocal demands for snackies or biscuits, and oh yeah, the sound of one or both of us yelling for him because he's decided to run off into the woods. These days we have moments where we just start to choke up and cry because we miss him so much or we think we see him out of the corner of our eyes - we hold each other and cry or start telling Hoondt stories - it helps a little when we can laugh and share. But there is no doubt about it, the Hoondt leaves some mighty big paws to fill! When the time is right or when the right puppy comes into our lives that lucky dog will have Hoondt watching over him too.
Thanks for reading. This was a difficult diary for me to write; I hope that I've accomplished what I had tried to do - to celebrate, honor and pay respect for a life that started out under some tough circumstances, but ended up full and well lived. I also wanted to pay tribute to a very special friend. It's not a happy ending, not the ending we wanted, but hopefully a dignified and respectful one.
I wrote most of this just before and just after Hoondt passed away, but I'm going to end this diary sharing events that happened about 2 hours after we had brought his ashes home on Saturday, August 2. Shortly after we got home a series of very strong storms came through our section of the county. Bursts of lightening strikes, constant thunder, torrential rain, even some hail and strong winds blew through the property for a couple hours. I joked that it was Hoondt bitching and preaching to the neighborhood, letting everyone know he was back home. After the storm finally let up and the sun came out in the west I looked out to the meadow area and the dark storm clouds in the east. To my amazement there was a faint double rainbow in the sky (and I confess I cried when I saw it - yeah, I can be very cynical sometimes, but I always tear up when I read "The Rainbow Bridge") about a half hour later there was another, and then an hour after that another. Hoondt's rainbows - like everything else it seemed the universe was sending an answer that I didn't know I needed or wanted.
Thank you dear Hoondt, for sharing your fun, joy, friendship, love and too short life with us. Words can't express how much we miss you and how much you meant to us. We are better humans because of you. I won't, can't end this with a "Goodbye" - that was a word we never used with you. instead I'll just write what we always said to you, "Be a good dog... See you soon... Later Hoondt..."