One week later ...

Well, it has been one week since we helped Tucker cross the Bridge. It has been a very emotional week. The pain of losing him is worse than I ever could have imagined. We were at the lake house with my family for Christmas. It was nice to get away from our house for a few days, because it is difficult to be in our house without Tucker. We had a quiet, peaceful Christmas, and thought about Tucker so much. Molly (my parents' golden retriever) seemed mopey while we were there, and I'm sure she was confused about why Tucker wasn't there with us.

Our vet's office called this afternoon to let us know that Tucker's ashes are ready for us to pick up. It was very difficult for me to hear that. I wasn't quite prepared for that phone call today. We will probably go pick them up tomorrow, and I'm sure that will be a very emotional trip. Going back to the place where we left him, and picking up all that remains of him is going to be really difficult. I wrote a thank you note to our vets, and I included a picture of Tucker in the envelope. I will take that with me when we pick up the ashes.

I have been thinking about all of the things that I miss about Tucker. Here are a few of them:

• I miss the sweet smell of his fur
• I miss rubbing his ears
• I miss watching him "roly poly" (roll around on his back) in the backyard ... that was one of the things that brought him so much joy
• I miss hearing him bark at the mailman and delivery men
• I miss hearing him snore at night
• I miss walking in the door and seeing him standing there, so happy to see me, with a toy in his mouth and his whole body wagging
• I miss the way he would sit right next to us when we would eat dinner at the coffee table, just waiting for a bite of something
• I miss the way he loved to eat corn, right off the cob
• I miss his big, soft paws
• I miss his faded nose
• I miss those big, beautiful, brown eyes
• I miss the fluffy lion mane fur on his chest
• I miss hearing him sigh with contentment
• I miss the way he barked at dogs and cats on TV
• I miss his smiles
• I miss his bicycle kick when we scratched "the spot" on his chest
• I miss laying next to him and listening to him breathe
• I miss saying "Gimmie a kissie" and having him kiss my cheek ... he gave the best kisses
• I miss hearing him drink water
• I miss giving him treats ... he sure did love his treats, and he always took them out of our hands so gently
• I miss taking him swimming ... he absolutely loved to swim
• I miss watching him make snow angels in the snow ... he loved the snow!
• I miss taking him in the car and having the windows down ... he loved nothing more than riding in the car with his head out the window
• I miss watching him run around in circles in the backyard like a mad man when he got really, really excited
• I miss buying him new toys ... he always got so excited when I would come home with one
• I miss watching him play with kids ... he was so gentle with them
• I miss having him lay on the floor next to me when I am on the computer
• I miss his whine when he was really excited
• I miss having a sweet dog who was always happy to see me, never got upset with me, and loved every minute of his life
• I miss knowing that no matter what else was going on my life, he always made me smile
• I miss sharing my time on earth with Tucker ...

My Dad brought a book for me to read during Christmas. It was a really good book, and I definitely recommend it for all dog lovers and especially those who have had to say goodbye to a beloved dog. It is called Rescuing Sprite: A Dog Lover's Story of Joy and Anguish, by Mark Levin. It was a quick read, and it was both heartwarming and heartbreaking. Reading the book was very therapeutic for me, and there were several parts of the book that I feel like I could have written myself. I wrote down a couple of really good quotes from the book, and I thought I would share them:

"No time on earth is long enough to share with those we love or to prepare our hearts for goodbye."

"Dogs give us so much joy. They never fail us when even the people we love the most disappoint us in some way."

Goodbye, my sweet, beautiful boy ...

I have been dreading the day when I would have to write this entry. We helped Tucker cross the Bridge this morning. He continued to get worse through the night, and by this morning, his belly was distended, and he could no longer stand up or even lift his head. What a heartbreaking sight that was. We both stayed close to him through the night, almost hoping that he would pass peacefully in his sleep. I called the vet right at 7:30 when they opened this morning, and they told us to come in at 9:15. So, we spent about an hour being close to him and taking in as much of him as we could. Then, Brian got a piece of plywood and layed some towels on it. Our next-door neighbor came over and he and Brian lifted Tucker onto the board. We wrapped a sheet around him and the board to secure him. They carried him out to my car. I drove, and Brian layed in the back next to Tucker (we folded the seats up and put them up against the front seats, so the whole back was open). It seemed like such a long drive to the vet.

When we got there, they brought out a gurney and helped get Tucker onto it. He didn't even lift up his head through all of that. They put us in a room as soon as we got inside. There are three vets in the practice, and we really like all of them. Fortunately, our favorite vet was the one who was with us today. She came in the room and reassured us that we were doing the right thing, because Tucker was not doing well. His gums and tongue were almost the color of his teeth at that point. His eyes looked so tired. Brian and I both knew we had made the right decision when Tucker didn't even flinch when Dr. Douglas used the clippers to shave his paw where the IV needed to go in. He has always been terrified of clippers and always put up a fight when they were turned on. She gave us some of the fur that she shaved off, and she also cut off a tuft of his hair on his ear (it was our favorite hair - so curly!) for us to keep. She inserted the IV catheter and told us that she would give us some time to say our goodbyes.

Then, it was just Brian, Tucker and me. We both said our goodbyes and gave Tucker lots of kisses. I buried my face in his neck because I wanted to smell him one last time. After a few minutes, Brian let Dr. Douglas know that we were ready. She came in and explained what would happen. She would inject some anesthesia (like they use for surgery), which would help Tucker not feel anything. He would become very groggy and out of it at that point, but he would still be able to hear us. Then, she would inject saline, and follow that with a medication to stop his heart. We told her we were ready. She injected everything, and I heard Tucker take his last breath - a soft grunt. I knew he was gone at that point. Dr. Douglas listened to his heart with a stethoscope and confirmed that he had passed. An overwhelming sadness came over me at that moment. My boy was gone. I kissed him and rubbed his paws. He was getting cold already. He looked so peaceful --- just like he was sleeping. We had his favorite blanket on him, to keep him warm. Dr. Douglas hugged us and talked to us for a little while. She was so gentle and kind. Then, she told us to take as much time with him as we wanted, and then we could leave. We said our last goodbyes and walked out of the room. Leaving that room was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. I wanted him to trot out of there with me, just as he had done every other time we had been there. Not this time. We walked to the car and drove home.

Walking into the house was so sad. Tucker should have been standing there, waiting for us with a smile on his face, a toy in his mouth, and his whole body wagging. We walked around the house and saw all of his toys, the towel he layed on all night last night, his bed, little tufts of his fur ... it was so painful. We were not ready to let him go. Then again, we never would have been ready. He was the most amazing dog. He taught us so much in his 9 years with us. I feel so proud to be his mama. He made our lives so happy and full. There will never be another dog like him. I still feel like I can hear him breathing or walking around the house. I keep waiting to hear him climb the steps and come sit next to me when I'm on the computer. My heart hurts. I knew this was going to be awful, but I couldn't have imagined how painful it really would be. There is such an emptiness now. He was such a huge part of us. He was just a puppy when we built our house back in June 2000. This whole house is him. There are constant reminders of him everywhere we look. I will love him and miss him every day for the rest of my life.

We decided to have Tucker cremated and have the ashes returned to us. That way, he will always be with us. Back in July when I thought we were going to lose him, I found a wonderful woman on the internet who makes custom pet memory boxes. They are beautiful. She uses stained glass, crystals, pictures of the pet ... anything we want. I am going to contact her in the next few weeks to make a box for us. There is a place in the box to put the ashes, and then they are sealed in there. It will be nice to have that to look at whenever we want. I am so glad that we took so many pictures of him over the years. We have been looking through all of the old pictures quite a bit today. I am glad that Brian stayed home from work ... I would not have wanted to be alone today. He has been cleaning like crazy since we got home ... I guess that is his way of keeping busy. I, on the other hand, haven't felt like doing much. I have been on the computer quite a bit, reading wonderful emails from friends and loved ones who have been so supportive throughout this journey. We will survive, but it is going to be hard for awhile. I just need to keep reminding myself that Tucker lived a long (though not long enough), happy life, and that he is no longer suffering. I would like to think that he is running free and playing with all of the other beloved dogs that passed before him. His body is no longer with us, but his beautiful spirit will be right here with us forever.

Not good ...

I haven't posted in awhile mainly because Tucker has been doing so well. That all changed today. He has been fading quickly since this afternoon. Around 1:00 this afternoon, I noticed a change in his eyes. I let him outside, and he immediately walked into the grass and layed down ... not a "roly-poly, happy roll around on my back" lay down, but an "I'm sick and I need to lay down" lay down. I knew right away that something was wrong. I had to go outside and coax him to come back in, and I finally got him back inside. He layed down again as soon as I got him inside. I looked at his gums and tongue, and they were extremely pale ... almost white. My heart sank, as I knew this meant he was having an active bleed. This hasn't happened since before his splenectomy in July. He seemed pretty comfortable at that point, albeit weak and lethargic. Brian and I took turns laying with him on the floor, trying to comfort him. A few hours after that, the panting began. He couldn't seem to get comfortable. He has used all of his energy to climb up on the couch a couple times, to be close to Brian, but he still doesn't seem comfortable.

I wish he could tell us if he is hurting. I wish he could tell us if he doesn't want to fight anymore and that it is time for us to help him cross the Bridge. My heart is breaking in a thousand pieces. I feel so helpless, knowing that there is nothing I can do to make this better. We have gone back and forth about whether or not we should take him to the emergency vet, but we ultimately decided not to. I think all they can do is confirm that he is bleeding internally, and then the decision will be ours. If we have to help him cross the Bridge, I want to do that with our regular vet, who has taken care of Tucker since he was 8 weeks old. I have been spending a lot of time laying close to him, burying my face in his fur. I am trying to take him in as much as I can --- his smell, the feel of his soft fur on my face, the sound of his heart beating, and the sound of him breathing. I want to etch those things permanently in my mind so I can relive them when he is no longer with us.

I guess we will see how the night goes and make some sort of decision in the morning. I knew this day was coming, but I will never be ready to let my boy go. Tucker has been the most wonderful, loving dog. I wish I could have 50 more years with him. I am not ready to say goodbye. I don't want him to suffer, though. If it is his time, I will help him go. More later ...