Goodbye, My Little Buddy

TW: Animal Loss, Pet Loss

I was told once, shortly after my beloved childhood dog passed, that the unimaginably hard goodbyes are the cost of immeasurable love and years of the best companionship possible that only animals can offer us.

Friday night I had to rush Sherlock to the vet because he suddenly, with no warning, collapsed and stopped breathing. We were able to get him to breathe on his own long enough to arrive at the vet where they tried their absolute best to diagnose and save my little guy.

Unfortunately, there is not much to be done when a brain aneurysm ruptures and the brain is rapidly bleeding. We were told it would be the same outcome, whether we waited for a natural end or not, so we said our goodbyes and my sweet little angel went peacefully to heaven wrapped in my arms.

I’m not handling it well. I’m not, I can’t lie. My sweet pack is lost without it’s littlest member, and I am having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that in less than a half hour, we went from a happy bouncing little critter to giving last kisses. I treat each animal with the same attention, love, and care I do the humans in my family, and at the moment, I feel like a pretty awful pet parent, even though logically I’m aware there wasn’t anything to be done differently.

I desperately miss my little cuddle bug. I miss his gentle paw pets when he wanted attention, and being woken up at 8 am on Saturdays by little tippy taps, and I really miss his “smother Mom in kisses” approach to whisking away sadness. One day these will be happy, warm memories, but at the moment they are also somewhat pointed.

My little bean was 5 years old, he just had his birthday the Monday before. He loved to shout, and cuddle, and chase his brothers. He liked to stash his food under the living room furniture, boss his mom around, and was a serious, professional sunshine napper. But unbeknownst to us, he had more disabilities due to his malicious breeding than we had thought. I knew when Sherlock and Watson came to me that rescuing them out of a puppy mill meant some possible health issues, and unfortunately, we believe that was what ultimately led to the aneurysm. The good news is, even with he couple surgeries he needed, and the cataract he developed, he was the happiest, most content little dog ever, and I truly believe he had the best life he possibly could have. I am so beyond grateful that his five short years on earth were mine to treasure, and even knowing that outcome, I’d do it all again. He was a very special critter.

Some day, maybe soon, I’d love to share some of my favorite Sherlock memories with all of you, and perhaps devote a whole post to the love of my little dude, but right now I am choosing to step away from the internet and focus on my pack and finding our new normal. The constant barrage of information, and especially news, is just not helpful at the moment. I am hoping this won’t impact the post frequency of this blog, but if I miss a week or two, please know that I’ll be back shortly, and that I will most definitely miss our chats while we figure this all out.
Until we chat again, my friends.