One year ...

Well, today is the one year anniversary of saying goodbye to my boy. I can't believe it has been a year. In some ways, it seems like he has been gone for a lifetime, and in other ways, it seems like I just said goodbye to him yesterday.

I miss his smell ... the feel of his fur on my face ... his constant presence in our home. I still miss him so much. We have talked about the possibility of getting another dog, but neither of us are ready. To be completely honest, I don't know if I will ever be ready. As much joy and happiness as he brought to my life, I don't know if I can bear the thought of going through the pain of losing another dog. It was heartwrenching, and I am still not over it. I still get choked up whenever I see a golden retriever that looks like him. Sometimes when I am sitting alone in my quiet house and see his box on the mantle, I still get teary. I can't bear to go anywhere near his vet's office. We had to take our cat to the vet a few times this year, and I always made Brian do it. I just can't go back there.

The changing of the seasons this year has been sad. When the last snow of winter melted and spring arrived, I missed seeing him in the backyard, rolling in the grass and breathing in the fresh spring air. When spring turned to summer, I missed taking him for rides in the car (with the windows down and his head out the window, of course!), walks on the beach, and swims in the lake. When summer turned to fall, I reminisced about dressing him up as a turtle last year for his last Halloween. We had our first snowfall last week, and it really made me miss him. He loved going outside and making snow angels in the yard. He was definitely a snow dog. I am used to looking out the windows and seeing pawprints all over the yard. Now, the snow is too perfect ... no pawprints at all.

Over the past week, I have often thought about the fact that a year ago, we had no idea that we were in the midst of Tucker's last days. I mean, we knew that he was sick and that he didn't have much longer, but we never knew when he would go. The thing about this cancer is that they are fine until they aren't, and when they start to go, it happens very quickly. I remember every detail of his last 24 hours of life, and I relive it in my mind way more often than I would like to. The memory of our last visit to the vet and watching him take his last breath still haunts me. I don't think the vivid details of that day will ever leave me.

It has been difficult for me to get in the Christmas spirit this year, since we lost him so close to Christmas. I remember that Christmas last year was very sad. We spent it at the lake with my family. As difficult as it would have been to lose him at any time, it seems especially sad that it was so close to Christmas. I feel like I am always going to associate Christmas with losing the best dog I have ever known.

So, today will be a nostalgic, sentimental, sad day for Brian and me. I still can't believe a whole year has passed. I sure do miss my Tucker ...

Springtime

I've been missing my boy a lot lately, with the beautiful Spring weather upon us. It is still very difficult for me to walk out in our backyard, since that is where Tucker spent so much of his happy time. His "roly poly" spots in the grass are fading and being replaced with lush green grass, which makes me sad. I can't believe it's been almost 5 months since he left us. It seems like so much longer since I last felt his soft fur or heard him breathing. We have pictures of him all over our house, and his box of ashes is on the mantle above our fireplace. I can still feel his spirit all over the house.

I read a touching pet loss poem today and thought I would share it:


Why?
That's what we ask.
The truth is, we may never
be able to know for sure why.

But we do know that there is no single
"should have done"or "could have done"
or "did" or "didn't do"
that would have changed that why.

All that love could do was done.

remembering ...

I am sorry for the lack of updates. Guess there isn't much to say since Tucker has been gone. I can't believe it has been almost two months since we said goodbye. In a way, it seems like it was just yesterday, and in another way, it feels like he has been gone for years. We are surviving. We have good days and sad days. I think that once the weather starts to get nice, it is going to be a new adjustment period all over again. Tucker loved to "roly poly" in the grass (that is, roll around on his back with a huge smile on his face), and once the grass comes back in the spring, it will be hard to look out in the backyard and not see him "roly polying" or see his "roly poly" spots in the grass.

People keep asking us when we are going to get another dog. We have talked about it, but I don't think we are ready yet. He was just such a perfect dog. I think we are both scared of being disappointed (though I know that could never really happen) and comparing every little thing to Tucker. Our hearts are full of love, though, and I would like to think that we will get another dog one of these days.

I have lots of pictures that I need to scan and post here ... just haven't had a chance to sit down and do it. Hopefully in the next couple months.

Just wanted to mention another beautiful golden retriever who lost his battle with hemangiosarcoma on 2/17. His name was Spencer, and he was a therapy dog in California. I am including a link to his blog here ... it is well worth checking out. Our thoughts and condolences go to Spencer's mom and dad, as we know the pain and sadness they are feeling.

Two weeks later ...

I picked up Tucker's ashes on Friday (1/2). It was very, very hard. I started crying even before I pulled into the vet's parking lot. Memories of taking Tucker there for the last time flooded my mind. Walking in the front door of the office was sad, as I remembered all the times I took Tucker there. He always loved going to the vet. How many dogs can say that?? He always had a big smile on his face, and everyone at the office loved him. He was never afraid to be there. The vets and staff were always so gentle with him, and I think that really helped him have good experiences there.

When I walked inside, there were a couple people at the front desk. They recognized me and were very kind. One of the vets (Dr. Fu) came out and said how sorry he was that Tucker was gone. He gave me Tucker's ashes in a beautiful wooden box. He also gave me a beautiful clay pawprint (called a ClayPaw) that they got after we left Tucker on his last day. Seeing that pawprint really made me lose it. I just kept picturing them pressing his beautiful paw into the clay after he had already passed. I am so thankful that they gave us that gift. I will always treasure it.

I said goodbye to everyone and left. My heart was breaking all over again. I sat in my car and cried for awhile before I headed home. The ClayPaw still needed to be baked. I was glad that the vet didn't bake it, because I wanted to put Tucker's name and maybe some type of little trinket in it. I just baked it tonight. We have Tucker's box and the ClayPaw on the mantle above our fireplace in our great room. Brian likes to talk to the box in the silly voice that he always used when he talked to Tucker. It is pretty sweet.

I forgot to mention in my last post that I believe in my heart that Tucker sent us a sign on Christmas Eve. We were in the car, driving up to the lake house. It was about 5:15 PM, and it was starting to get dark. It was a grey, dreary day, with a very thick cloud cover. All of a sudden, I got this very strong feeling that Tucker was in the car with us. I felt like he was right behind me, with his head near my shoulder. I even turned around in my seat to make sure he wasn't in the backseat. Then, at that moment, a bright, brilliant orange sunset broke through the clouds in the western sky. It was one of the most amazing, surreal moments I have ever experienced. I felt such a sense of peace and calmness at that moment. I truly believe that Tucker was letting us know that he was okay and that he had arrived safely. I will never forget that moment.

It has been two weeks and one day since Tucker left us. Our house is still too quiet and empty, but we are surviving. Tucker is on my mind and in my heart all the time, and I still cry quite a bit, but I will say that the pain is not quite as raw as it was. I feel that Tucker would want us to be happy and smile when we think of him. I'm not quite there yet, but I believe that I will be one day.