Jake

Last Friday, I told Chris he needed to stop at the grocery store on the way home and buy some more food for Jake. When he got to the store, Chris stood in the aisle for what seemed like a long time, pondering a simple question that he had never had to consider before.

"Big bag or little bag?"

He got the big bag. He has always been optimistic.

***

On Saturday Jake started to deteriorate rather quickly. His leg started to swell up again, indicating the tumor was again blocking return blood flow and pooling in his leg. His belly began to turn crimson, indicating blood there as well. As the day went by, the color turned a light purple and then, by Sunday, a dark purple. Sunday evening it was almost black.

He was eating a lot of grass, which we took to mean that the steroids had finally given him an ulcer, as his vet said they might with extended dosage. He had an accident in the house, which I have never, ever seen him do. He hobbled and refused to put weight on the leg. We doubled his pain medication. He still hobbled.

I watched him try to sit down for 25 minutes while I nursed Charlotte on Saturday afternoon. He leaned this way and that, tentatively lowered himself and then decided that it hurt too much and he'd just stand. He did this about ten times, never getting himself all the way down to the floor

He smiled and was happy to see us and he ate our dinner scraps on Sunday, but he was absolutely high and totally out of it. He was hurting.

***

By Sunday evening it was clear that he needed to go back to the vet for a final visit. It was time to say goodbye. Chris barely slept that night, in part due to Charlotte but mostly he was thinking about the next day. He got up in the middle of the night to research it. I let Jake out at 3 am and silently wondered if this was going to be his last time to explore our back yard. I tried not to cry. I gave him some extra pats when he came back inside.

Our hearts were so heavy when we woke up this morning. I could barely look at Jake, much less say a proper goodbye.

***

The appointment was for 830. I herded Claire upstairs and Chris put Jake in the car and left. We told Claire that Daddy was going to go get donuts for breakfast. Not ten minutes later Claire had noticed that Jake was nowhere to be found.

"Mommy, where's Jake?"

It's the first of many recitations, I'm sure.

Chris came home with the donuts, but without Jake. I had secretly been hoping that the vet would say something like, "Oh! I can fix this after all! No need!" and Chris would come home with him. But, he didn't. He came home and said that the people at the vet's office were very, very nice. He didn't say much else.

***

We left the house after lunch today and I had a brief series of thoughts that had me in tears as we prepared to leave.

Gathering up final bags to load into the car: "I need to go let Jake out before we leave...oh, wait."

Closing and locking the garage door: "Make sure to leave the utility room light on so Jake can see his food and water bowls...ohhh. I don't need to do that. I can turn the light off."

I whispered to Chris that I just remembered we don't need to let Jake out. I was starting to cry. He said it would probably be a long time before the reminders went away, and that's okay.

***

In the car, Claire falls asleep. I tell Chris that I want to know what happened, what the vet said, now that small ears aren't listening. The tumor was visibly and palpably in his abdomen. Blood was collecting and pooling there as well. He guessed that there were only a few days before the tissue in Jake's leg started to deteriorate and became "unviable." He was very sorry that there wasn't really anything to be done. He was in pain, it was only going to get worse, and, if we were ready, it was time.

They let Chris have a few moments alone with Jake before coming back into the room. It was quick. And then he was gone.

***

At home tonight, there is a storm. There is thunder and lightning and while the storm is still far away I know that Jake would be able to hear it with his super dog hearing and he would be nervous. He would be panting. He would be at my bedside, seeking comfort from simply being close to us.

But, he's not here tonight. I miss him.

***

Claire is asleep. I need to go pick up Jake's food and water bowls, empty them and put them in the dishwasher while she can't see me and ask too many questions. I need to take his bed and stash it somewhere. I need to figure out what to tell her when she asks me about him tomorrow. And then I need to figure out what to tell her the next day and the day after that.

***

As it turns out, the surgery to remove the tumor bought us about two months before it grew back and the steroids bought us about 20 days instead of a handful. One of them is shorter than we thought, the other longer. I still find myself surprised by what happened today. I really can't believe it. It's over and he's gone and he's not ever going to greet me when I come home.

This is shitty. This is the shittiest, most grown-up, crappy thing I have ever had to do.

***

Oh, Jake. We loved you, buddy. You were the best dog and you gave us so much joy. You made our lives richer.

Thank you for loving us, too. There will never be another puppy quite like you were. We miss you already.

xoxo

Comments

[christina]

Im so sorry. We lost Bruno, our 10 year old bulldog just 2 days after we came home from the hospital with Ben. Nate was just 2.5. It was so hard but we told him what happend and that Bruno had died, we buried his ashes together and said goodbye. It's been a year and a few days now and Nate still talks about him, misses him, askes if he can come home to play just one more time. We go out to his spot and talk to him, and every storm Nate wants to bring Bruno inside so he isnt afraid. It's horrible and it still hurts. Jake was a dog but he was your family and your friend too. Time will heal a little but he will always be your buddy. Always. My thoughts are with you guys.

[Little miss mel]

I'm so sorry A'Dell. He seemed like such a lovely dog. Hugs to you and your family.

[Laurie]

Oh dear. I was with my one dog at the vet when she died (it is surprisingly peaceful, yes) and the other -- my heart, for real -- died when I was thousands of miles away in Vietnam. It is shitty. The only bad thing about them is that their lives are so relatively short. Thankfully they give us so much happiness while they are here that it makes it worth it. He was so sweet and I'm sorry for your loss.

[Katie]

Aw, hon.

I am so sorry. Losing our furbabies is so hard. We love them so very much and losing them hurts a lot.

Fortunately, you have a lot of people here who know this pain firsthand. You won't get any "he was just a dog" comments here (and if you do, point me in their direction).

It's been since December 17 and there are days when I still start to call out for him as I am getting ready to leave. I still say "dogs" when we only have one now. But it is easier and I don't cry every time I realize he isn't here anymore. Mostly, I just smile and laugh, remember everything about him - the good and the bad! :)

As for the kiddos. Yeah, that was probably the hardest thing about it for us. Telling him was difficult. Jack died in the middle of the night with NO warning, so I didn't have a lot of time to figure out what we were going to tell him. I googled as quickly as possible and found that you don't want to talk about how they were "sick" and "went away," because kids will then get worried if you, they, or someone else they love "get sick".

I usually try to steer clear of religion on blogs, so please excuse if this isn't your style, but for us, it made sense to tell Will that Jack is with Jesus. It was also right at Christmastime, when we had our nativity out and had been talking a lot about Jesus and Christmastime. He seemed to be comforted by that, but yes. . . be prepared to have to answer the "where is" question A LOT. It took Will about two weeks to stop asking multiple times a day and he actually just asked about him about a week ago. Funny how he still remembers.

I liked this book http://www.amazon.com/Dog-Like-Jack-DyAnne-DiSalvo-Ryan/dp/0823413691 (and our dog was named Jack) and also this one http://about.pricegrabber.com/search_getprod.php/masterid=/isbn=9780590417013/search=9780590417013&mode=about_childrensbooks&

Hugs, love, and lots of sympathy, my sweet friend. Know that you gave that dog a wonderful life filled with love, good food, and devotion. He was lucky to have you, 'til the very end.

[Nothing But Bonfires]

Oh A'Dell, I'm so sorry. What a beautifully written tribute.

[Shilo]

I am so so sorry for your loss. <3

[Meghan]

I am so so SO sorry. I'm glad you got mor time than you thought with him
but it's never enough.

And good luck with Claire. I have no idea how I'll handle this. You'd think we would since it's inevitable but no.

Lots of hugs to you all. Be good to yourselves

[Barbetti]

I'm bawling. Your post brought me back to the dog I had for 15 years, the dog I sobbed over at my graduation dinner. So very sorry for your loss, A'Dell. This is why I don't know if I have it in me to bring another pet home. Sending you all lots of hugs and hoping it is easy for you to explain to Claire.

[Lindsay]

So sorry, A'Dell. He was a beautiful looking dog.

[Tracy]

I am so sorry. He was beautiful.

[Jen]

I'm just so sorry for your loss. I've never had a pet of my own, so it's hard to imagine how difficult the loss of one must be. This was a great tribute to Jake - had me in tears over my breakfast.

My thoughts are with you all.

[Natalie]

I'm so sad for you all, A'Dell. He loved you all and you loved him, and he won't be forgotten. Much love.

[HereWeGoAJen]

I'm really sorry. I will be thinking of you guys.

[Life of a Doctor's Wife]

Oh A'Dell, I am so very sorry for your loss. He sounds like such a wonderful, loving companion and family member and, while I'm glad you got that time with him, my heart aches for you that he's gone.

Thinking of you and your family today and sending you thoughts of peace and healing.

[K]

I'm so, so sorry.

[Sarah in Ottawa]

I am so, so sorry A'Dell. It stinks so very much to lose a beloved pet. Thinking of you and your family today. xoxo

[Holly]

Oh this just made me weepy, I know exactly how you are feeling and I am so sorry. It IS one of the suckiest adult things to have to do. Thinking of you guys!

[Vanessa Napolitano]

I am so sorry for your loss. It is so hard to lose a beloved pet.

[Chris]

Thanks for all the comments and support. The address for this blog says alot about our dear friend. God speed little buddy.

[Anne]

I'm so sorry. My heart is with you guys.

[Manda]

I'm so sorry. I hope my turn to say goodbye is a long, long way off. :(

[Maggie]

I'm so sad about your poor sweet ADORABLE doggie. I'm sorry it had to happen. My family had a dog that no one particularly loved except my brother, and he went a little crazy and had to be on doggie Prozac etc. - they finally had to put him down when I was in college and everyone was DEVASTATED about it. It's honestly what keeps me from begging Phillip to get us a dog. I'm so sorry. Thinking of you.

[Jennie]

I am so sorry, A'Dell. I loved Jake, he was such a good boy. I'll snuggle Molly a little extra tonight and I'm here if you need anything at all.

[craftyashley]

That left me crying. I'm glad you were able to have extra time with him, and the decision to let home go was easier as he was obviously at the end. But still, so sorry. Pets need to just live as long as we do.

[Pippi]

I'm so sorry to hear you lost your dog. Losing a loved pet is so, so hard. As for what to tell Claire I vote for as much of the truth you think she can handle. Kids are more capable of grappling with these things than we give them credit for. But I'm an internet stranger so don't put too much stock in that :) Follow your instincts and I'm sure you'll muddle through.

The pictures at the end are beautiful. What an adorable, faithful friend.