grief

Posts Tagged grief

Endless Love: Celebrate it EVERY Day.

Valentine’s Day: a day that I used to look forward to but now means the anniversary of having Mela suddenly and traumatically pulled from my life. The Christmas decorations stayed up this year longer than usual. The Valentine’s Day decorations usually follow and I struggled to decide whether I would find it too difficult to recognize the significance of a “holiday” that I now view with soul crushing sadness. Ultimately, I decided to put them up as a tribute to my love for them. Not only to Mela, who crossed the rainbow bridge that day last year, but also to my beloved Kenzo who followed behind her only 4 months and 1 day later. For much of the time right after losing Kenzo, my mind was in a very dark place. I functioned but it was all on the outside. I function better now because nearly 6 weeks after losing my perfect Boo, I was moved to add another dog to my life. I owe her an introductory article all of her own, so for now, just know that she exists and that her name is Meridiana, Meri for short. So I still exist in this realm because I chose to, not because I wanted to. I knew that Kenzo and Mela would have wanted me to choose to. But it was and is still is, very hard to be without the physical presence of those you love so deeply.

I try every day to be bright for Meri’s sake. I think that I succeed most days. Some days I even feel somewhat human. But most days inside, the love that I have for Mela and Kenzo is there so vehemently with no solid landing place. So, I talk to them. My very wise friend Dana calls the rituals that we use to cope with extreme loss “active coping”. I would have to agree. They are not only my connection to my beloved babies, they are my connection to my past self who will never exist again. We change with extreme loss. We learn how to move forward because we have to if we choose to go on living and we should choose that. But we construct new personas out of what remains of our old personas. There will always and forever be that layer of intense grief where we are a literal second away from an ugly cry because of. With time, we learn to hold it together more easily but it’s always still there. It always will be. I can be transported to the day that I knew my life would change because something was off with Merlin in a mere second. It’s that close in my heart. And that is okay. I am told that my most recent grief experience is called cumulative grief because both losses were sudden and in a short time span of one another, though certainly one traumatic loss alone can shake your psyche to the core. I survive but I am changed forever. I am okay with that. We live. We learn.

What has not changed at all is my love for those I have lost. Through losing Mela and Kenzo back-to-back, I now feel that I sort of have Merlin, Siri, and Trent back. Not in the physical form. But back here in my life in the form that they took after crossing the bridge but chose to stay and watch over me. No, I did not forget Kera. I am told (and can feel) that she chose to move on with another life after she crossed the bridge years ago. I am sorry that I failed her somehow, but I wish her all of the happiness. I am comforted on a daily basis that the rest of them will remain with me for the balance of this life. I knew that shortly after they crossed and I always look for signs from them but now I feel like we are all here together much more cohesively. I realize that this may be a bit too woo woo for some who may read this and that is your prerogative. But as I said, my rituals are active coping for *me* and I care only how *I* feel about what I believe, as it doesn’t harm anyone else. Let people like things, as I often say about other subjects when it only affects them.

My active coping rituals are many. One involves talking to all of my lost loves daily but especially when I am making my bed. All of their primary collars live under my pillow. I sleep wearing Kenzo’s rolled leather collar because I can. It fits. I gives me comfort. And that is okay. It’s necklace length on me. It would probably be some sort of fashion statement if I did it during the day. That makes me smile. Active coping also involves allowing myself to cry when I need to and the intense longing to touch them again, especially Mela and Kenzo. Those two were my only sudden losses and I feel like they had more life to live here, but that is likely because I miss them so very much. Sometimes they “talk” back. Not as much as when they first crossed the bridge and sometimes I really have to listen but listen I do.

My love for them is endless. Endless love really does exist. It never wanes. I feel it all of the time. My heart aches with it and there is nowhere to put it, outside of my active coping rituals. So this Valentine’s Day, I will cry for my losses but I will also celebrate the fact that I received the incredible gift of loving these dogs enough to miss their physical presence so very much. I will also celebrate having Meri in my life now. Love them all fiercely while they are still in your physical presence. Every day counts. But when they do cross the rainbow bridge, love them the same then as well, as they *do* feel your love when they are gone from this realm, and they want you to feel their love right back at you.

The beautiful banner art used here, that was commissioned for me by Cameo Anderson, shows that she knows this as well and was inspired to create it exactly that way. No one asked for the words that she wrote. She chose them. I choose to believe that my dogs inspired them. I thank them and her and my friend Jim, who commissioned the piece for me to try and help me heal. I will always cherish this beautiful gift. This is also part of my active coping as I think it was intended to be. So today on Valentine’s Day, celebrate those you love, both in this realm and beyond.

Tags: active coping, animal communication, cumulative grief, endless love, forever love, grief, grief anniversaries, Kenzo, kera, learning to live with loss, living with grief, love, loving a dog, loving a dog forever, Mela, Merlin, pet loss, rainbow bridge, Siri, trent, valentine's day

Posted in: Projects

Kenzo: A Love Story

Kenzo, my love, my Boo: April 20, 2012-June 15, 2022

“Where do I begin to tell the story of how great a love can be, the sweet love story that is older than the sea, the simple truth about the love he brings to me, where do I start?” (Lyrics from the song Love Story, in the movie of the same name.)

Kenzo as a puppy

There is so much to say but there are no adequate words to truly say how much this dog means to me and how much I love him and how much I will miss him every second of every day. He came into my life at a very dark time, when I, Siri and Trent were still deep in a dark depression over losing Merlin in September of 2011 and then Kera passed on June 1st of 2012. His “little” furry self was plopped into my arms by my dear friend Jackie, his breeder, with deep gratitude on my part. He was her gift (with permission from me), to help heal our hearts. You can read all about that here in Meeting Kenzo! His sweet kindness and his sense of humor lightened our pain and enabled us to move forward towards the light again. Our little family was able to smile and laugh once more.

Fast forward to April of 2015 and Siri passed away at 13-1/2, leaving us in sadness again but with my boys by my side, we forged on. I, Kenzo, and Trent even drove all the way to the tip of the coast of Maine together that fall and had an amazing adventure. But we were feeling incomplete and a bit lost. That November, Mela caught my eye on a found dogs site. She joined our family just before Thanksgiving of that year. She and Kenzo played beautifully together until my poor Boo busted his first ACL in January of the next year. But we were still very happy together.

Kenzo (right), mom Nova on left

Then Trent crossed the bridge just after Thanksgiving of 2018 at 14-1/2. and it’s been just Boo and Mela since then. We felt complete. Oh, I occasionally thought about adding but I never had a dog catch my eye. But then she was ripped out of our lives suddenly on Valentine’s Day of this year at only about 7 years of age. And it was far too soon and so suddenly, leaving only he and I, and we were crushed. We tried but never seemed to fully feel normal.

His enjoyment of many things seemed to wane quite a bit initially, but he bounced back more quickly than I did. I did my best to not break down in his presence, saving my tears for in the car between clients and when upstairs, either in the shower or getting the bedroom ready for the evening before heading back downstairs for evening cuddles with him, having ice cream and me having tea and a book, then me curled around his back while he rested on his bed in the living room. During our outings, and even when out in our own yard, it became obvious that he had been motivated to be more physically active by Mela’s endless energy, and that was now gone. There was no Mela crittering while he watched with interest, while lying in the yard, making sure that the neighbors behaved themselves.

I threw everything that I had into keeping him healthy. He had laser therapy every week to ten days, the chiropractor visits 40 minutes away bi-weekly and acupuncture once a month. His appetite never waned. He was my biggest joy, with his always gentle nature and obvious love of life and thorough enjoyment of food and all things edible. His adorable sense of humor made me smile so many times throughout the day. He would throw his head around and “bitch” when I came home while I inhaled his scent with my face in his fur, laying on the floor by his side while rubbing his chest. Our re-connections were one of my favorite parts of my day. Similar to when we said good morning. His “purring” when I kissed him as he stretched his limbs out to greet the day and then threw his head sideways in a sassy “good morning” warmed my heart. His favorite activities included: sniffarris in the park and in the woods; walking/laying in creek/ocean/lake water; laying in any grass and watching the world, whether it be humans or wildlife; and of all nature, he loved snow the most, laying in it, eating it, walking in it, etc.; searching through his snuffle mat; his evening doggie ice cream followed by bully bites; his daily afternoon “alley walk” was usually joyously embraced; he rejoiced in riding in the back of the Armada, like the king he was; “borking” at the neighbors when exiting the back door to his yard “kingdom”; sniffing out groundhogs on our walks; laying in the yard and listening to the world outside of our privacy fence.

Kenzo’s favorite weather

As time went by, I noticed that his bark seemed different sometimes. It went back and forth, and I dismissed it as drainage, like my allergies gave me. But then I came across the term laryngeal paralysis, and he got tested for it and it was confirmed that he had a mild case. It took him nearly a week to recover from what was a mild anesthesia, but he had such a sensitivity to stronger ones, that it was thought that a mild one would be fine. His body handled it but he was sensitive to stress and I feel awful that I stole a week of emotional good feeling for something that never was able to be addressed further, when he was struck down with liver cancer such a short time later. I had asked for a referral for tie-back surgery to see if that was a viable option, but he didn’t make it to even having the appointment scheduled.

The universe decided that I needed further trauma in my life and just about three short weeks after his diagnosis, after a perfectly normal evening with all of our normal togetherness and happiness, he was suddenly acting “off”. He sometimes was a bit dramatic with wanting me to get into bed (instead of on the floor with him when it was warmer) so that he could stretch out where he wanted and go to sleep so I did but I was a bit chastising, and I so regret that now. He kept moving around and he could not get comfortable so I started to worry that he might be bloating so I got up to look at him and he looked “off”. I asked him if he wanted to “go to the doctor” He knows what that means, and he immediately got up. We arrived at PVSEC at just after midnight and they took him right in. I waited hours for a phone call from the ER vet, which finally came at about 4AM. She said he either had cancer or a systemic infection and that I had to decide what I wanted done. Her bedside manner was atrocious, and I was feeling punched in the gut further. I told her that I wanted whatever it took but we agreed to some bacteria drawing and X-rays to start with. Another call when that was complete, and it became clear that he needed admitted and a hefty deposit would be required. She was leaning towards systemic infection, again with an atrocious bedside manner. While not an easy to “fix” diagnosis, it was the better option.

Kenzo’s last walk in the park

I frantically tried to get my Care Credit limit raised (successfully) and reached out to friends for assistance with the deposit. The help that I received was humbling and I will forever be grateful. I was told to go home around 7AM and that “no news was good news” and “please don’t call before 10AM”. At only around 10:30 AM, I answered the phone with my breath held. This critical care veterinarian was much kinder and more forthcoming with information but unfortunately, it was not good news. An ultrasound revealed multiple liver tumors with mets in his abdomen. The prognosis was not good, even with surgery, for which with his sensitivity with anesthesia would be very concerning. I was given the option of allowing him to cross the bridge there, proceed with surgery and maybe lose him on the table or take him home and help him cross at home with an in-home vet. I chose the last option. Losing him on the table wasn’t a chance that I was willing to take and having to say goodbye to him in that setting was just too much pain. So, he left this world far too soon at home, with my arms around him, in the same room that Mela was taken from us so suddenly.

I am now left alone and mourning my two beautiful babies at once, but I am relieved that he is free of the obvious pain and discomfort that came on so fast after a normal evening. I don’t know why the universe is so cruel sometimes but because it cannot be trusted, you must treat every single day as if it might be the last one that you spend with your loved ones. Tell them that you love them all the time. Show them that you love them all the time. Try hard to not have regrets because those regrets will haunt you so many times daily, that you will think that you might go mad. I have not been dogless since the late 90’s and I cannot think of another situation that brings me this much heartache. Your positive energy is welcome. Knowing how many lives that Kenzo touched helps greatly. I want his legacy to be forever. His was a legacy of kindness and compassion and laughter. I will try very hard to embrace that daily. But for now, the laughter is missing. Instead, I will mourn and speak endlessly of how much Kenzo meant to me.

Baby Boo, I will think of you every moment of every day with such love that will be endless. You are together with Mela and I hope that you both show me that you are here with me, watching over me.

Tags: dog loss, greiving a dog, grief, heartbreak, Kenzo, loving a dog, mourning a dog, my perfect boo, pet loss, rainbow bridge

Posted in: Projects

The Search is On? Adding to the Crew

I have a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that I only have two dogs. This is not a scenario that has existed in my life for almost twenty years. The grief is still very fresh. It’s also compounded by what I view as the end of a huge part of my life with the three dogs that taught me so much more than I could ever begin to pay them for. The lessons were abundant and endless and life changing. I feel lost in a world that changed far too fast for my tastes. When I lost Merlin and then Kera just nine short months later, this house was in a sad state of depression. Siri, Trent and I had lost our zest for life. There was little laughter and fun. There was no inclination to smile. Adding Kenzo to our life was a survival necessity. We needed laughter and smiles to move forward.

A similar scenario is unfolding in my life just three short years later. Every day brings multiple reminders of my new two dog life: counting out only two vitamins to add to the daily rations, grabbing two leashes off the hook rather than three, only two bowls in the dishwasher now, I could go on and on. The biggest hole is perhaps the ability to finally sleep in my own bed after three months of couch dwelling, now that Kenzo has received the go ahead to climb steps again. But that first sleep in my sorely missed bed was bittersweet without Siri, who had shared my bed for thirteen years, all 95 pounds of her. I am still getting used to the difference.

Kenzo and Trent wonder who will be joining them.

So many tugs at my heart throughout every single day. I know this my cue to think about adding to my family again. Trent and Kenzo are reluctant to play now. They actually have been this way since Siri started declining about six months ago. She wasn’t able to participate so they just stopped trying. Kenzo wants to but Trent has always had Siri on his side, keeping Kenzo in check should he need it. Please don’t misunderstand me. That is certainly my job as well, as the parent here but for play purposes, Siri made sure that Trent felt safe. Kenzo never did anything inappropriate. It is his sheer size that worries Trent so he almost always waited until Siri got him into a comfortable play mode and then Trent joined in. Without her to set the tone, he isn’t accepting Kenzo’s play invitations. Not that Kenzo can actively play right now anyway. He has another five weeks to go before that is on the menu. But Kenzo has always been very good at handicapping his play for other dogs. He lays down and lets them basically play on him but Trent isn’t terribly good at that without a partner to guide him.

So we need a new playmate in this house. When Kenzo gets cleared for more active play, my search for the right female will become official. Right now, it is just casual, with an eye towards what we need. I have mixed feelings about this. I don’t want to put my memories too far behind me. But I don’t want to dwell all the time either. I want to hear laughter and play sounds in my house again. I want my dogs to roll around happily in my yard and share toys and feel comfortable and bonded again. I want my family as whole as I can make them again ASAP. Short enough order, right?

In order to avoid having all sorts of available dog listings sent to me, let me clarify what my goal is. I am looking to add a Doberman to my life again. Female only, probably under five years of age, color, ears, tails don’t matter though I won’t deny a special fondness for those who are black/tan or fawn/tan though. A mix is a possibility. Even other breeds such as Rottweilers or German Shepherd Dogs are a possibility. I will know when the right dog shows up in my consciousness.

Of course, our new girl MUST be wonderful with other dogs. All else I am willing to work on but I refuse to compromise on dog sociability in my own home, especially at this time in our lives. Let’s not forget to mention that local to me is important and for those who don’t already know where that is, it’s the Pittsburgh PA area. I will keep you all posted and I am sure that Siri will help lead the right dog to use just as I am sure that Merlin brought Kenzo into my life. So please resist the urge to send me every dog in need. 

Feel free to share how you chose your addition in the spaces below.

Tags: addition, Adoption, behavior, dogs, grief, household, how, interaction, loss, many, memories, multiple, multiples, owner, play, positive, rescue, search, too

Posted in: Projects