This too shall pass

Rocky was having a rough day. I feared things with the cancer had progressed. I called the vet and they got him in for an appointment that afternoon. 

The vet spoke with me for a bit then took him back for an x ray and ultrasound. She returned and bluntly with 100 percent honesty said “Things are not good.” The tumor had completely taken over his bladder. She showed me both the X-ray and ultrasound. There was no visible bladder left, just tumor. I was shocked. I knew things had gotten worse but I had no idea they were that bad. The outward signs didn’t point to this for me or maybe I just didn’t want to see them. I mean the dog has a freakin tumor that had taken over his bladder and yet he still wakes up and greets me with a doggy smile on his face. He still follows us around the house and lays down next to where his people are. He still takes walks with us. 

But he had gone down hill quickly the past few weeks. He was constantly trying to pee. He was only eating treats and people food. He had lost two pounds since his last vet visit.  He looked worn. He was flat out refusing to take his meds and then puking them out when I forced them down his throat. Despite all this he still hung outside with Jacob and I while we played. He still sprinted over to see Anika when she got home from school. He still cuddled up happily on my lap. The vet explained gently that some dogs look happy until the last day they are alive. That’s why they are so wonderful. No matter how much pain they are in they love you and just want to be with you and make you happy. 

Ugh. Enter heartbreak here. 

She also explained once again how bad the situation was. The tumor had completely taken over his bladder. Period. The bladder was no longer visible on X-ray or ultrasound. It was a miracle this dog was still somehow peeing. His time was coming to an end quickly and the final result was going to be putting him down at some time or another in the very near future. She explained that it didn’t have to be an emergency situation to do this. We didn’t have to be rushing him somewhere in the middle of the night. That it was ok to let him go before he was unable to move, unable to pee, unable to eat anything, completely suffering. It was ok to know that it was his time. She said to know we had done everything we could for him and given him such a wonderful life. She was so kind. She said to take him home and love him. To feed him whatever he wants. She said she didn’t work until the afternoon but she would come in early if that time works better for us. That it was going to be a beautiful day and we could do it outside if we wanted. 

We took Rocky home and snuggled with him all night. I carried him around constantly like I did pre-children when arms weren’t full of babies. We feed him scrambled eggs, turkey, cheese, popcorn and doggie treats. He snuggled with us while we read the kids bed time stories. I feel asleep with him curled up next to me on the couch. 

Then the next day came. The day that I had dreaded from the moment I first got Rocky. The day I would leave the house with him and never return. 

I cannot even begin to explain how much this dog means to me and how heartbroken I am right now. Rocky was in our wedding. He was mentioned in our wedding vows. He was there when we brought both our babies home. He’s been an integral part of our family life for the last fifteen years. The day I got him still ranks high as one of the best days of my life.  

I am in such awe of this dog. What a role model he is. He has a tumor that has taken over his bladder and yet he marches on every day like nothing was different. This 14 pound Chihuahua/Pomeranian mix is one tough little guy who accurately fits his big name. So strong. So brave. Not willing to give up even when the odds are stacked way against him. He knows what’s important. He knows how to live and how to love. 

We gave him the best last day we could. A trip to the beach, car ride on my lap, yummy people food and snuggles with Tom (aka my dad)…all of his favorite things.  

But my still my heart is broken.  It hurts. It hurts like I never in my life have experienced. 

I miss him so much. I miss his little doggie smile. I miss the way when I picked him up he would go limp and happily sit snuggle in my arms. I miss the way he would follow me around the house and he was always quietly just there. I would often say, “Where’s Rocky?”, look down and he was nearby. He’s sweet calm, gentle energy was an ever present in my life for fifteen years and now I feel like something is missing and it hurts. I know I keep saying it hurts but I have no other words to describe it. It physically hurts. 

The house feels cold. It doesn’t feel right. Everything reminds me of him and I just want to see him one more time. Just one to snuggle with him on the couch when the craziness of the day is done one more time. Just want to see him bound over to me to greet me once more. Just one to see him roll in the first snow of the year or celebrate one more birthday with him. 

I ache. I want my sweet boy back. 

Rocky died outside on a beautiful sunny day surrounded by his family snuggled on my lap. His most favorite place to be in the world and I couldn’t have imagined it any other possible way.  He was petted and hugged and kissed and told how much we loved him until the second he was gone. It was the day I dreaded from the moment I got him. The day I knew would one day come. 

This too shall pass is a quote I’ve always loved. Recently when reading A New Earth, by Eckhart Tolle, I heard a new explanation of the quote. He didn’t use it just to describe the hard stuff, he also used it to describe the good stuff. The horrible day you put your dog down will pass, but also the moments of wonderful you had with him along the way, those will also pass. He doesn’t point this out to be negative, it’s quite the opposite. It’s to encourage us to be present in our lives in order to enjoy the moments and form no attachments so when they are gone we can let them go and move forward. 

All genius and so true. I’m clinging to this quote right now seeking comfort from it. It’s my personal mantra on repeat in my brain. I’m trying to be as strong and brave as my fourteen pound Rocky. I know the pain of losing him will gradually numb over time…never complete fade…but dilute a bit day by day. I know when we are all ready our next dog will find us and we will have a first meeting with this amazing creature that will be permanently imprinted in my brain much like the first time I laid eyes on Rocky….and that moment too shall pass. The good, the bad, it’s all so wonderfully, painfully temporary.