rainbow bridge

Posts Tagged rainbow bridge

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

United in Grief: Our Intense Love of Dogs Brings Us Together Online

Losing a dog to the inevitable Rainbow Bridge is hard enough. Losing a young and assumed to be healthy dog to a very sudden and unexpected passing on what was an otherwise normal day, is jarring at best but truly closer to soul crushing. Only other dedicated dog parents know the depth of the grief that grips us when we suffer such a loss, even when that loss is expected, such as with old age or illness. I have written about the beautiful support that the internet has previously provided when I lost my beloved Siri. Siri’s passing was of the expected variety and simply a matter when. After all, her health had been failing and she was nearly 14 years old. For a very large dog, that’s epic. Expected doesn’t equal welcome though and grief is still huge when the love is so great, as it always is. You can read about that experience here.

I am no stranger to having my dogs pass away but until now, it’s always been of age/illness related complications. Only my first dog, a Pekingese Chihuahua mix named Samantha passed away suddenly, but shortly after an operation to biopsy her liver. She was 12 years old though and had already lived a long happy life. That fact didn’t change my trauma over losing her so suddenly and without my presence, but it’s somewhat easier to console yourself when you have been honored to share so many years with a dog and there has been a preceding illness.

On Valentine’s Day of 2022, my dog Kenzo and I suffered the very sudden loss of my/our beautiful Chow Chow Mela. It is thought that she had a stroke/aneurysm or heart attack, as she woke up very suddenly from a nap, nearby me where I was working on my computer, and made the most unearthly cry. I immediately rushed the 3 or 4 feet to her to comfort her from what I thought was a bad dream, but she arched her back and passed away in my arms, on my kitchen floor. It was a moment that will forever replay in my mind. I cannot think of this without scrunching up my face into the beginning of an incredibly ugly cry. Maybe someday but not now, not soon, with the feelings so very raw. When I got home from the vets, where I immediately rushed her to, hoping to revive her, I couldn’t say anything more on my own timeline, other than that Mela had very suddenly passed away. I was in shock. I shut off my electronics and huddled with Kenzo, who had been present and mere feet away and “knew” what happened. I think he thought that I would come back with Mela all good from the vets and that didn’t happen. We were both so incredibly sad. I barely remember that evening now. Just the incredible pain that I think that we both felt, amidst the shock.

While I was screaming “no” at the universe, before heading to the vets, he hurried into the living room, clearly scared of what was going on. I carried her to my vehicle and then reassured him that I would be back and drove like a fiend there, knowing already that it was too late. My vet’s staff was wonderful and rushed out immediately, as I had already called them. But she was gone. We will be mourning for quite some time. I will tell the story to honor her life, which was so very important. I am still trying to find all of the right words to show how very important her life was for her story. But this story is about what happened immediately after our devastating loss.

The next morning after this crushing loss, after not even being able to keep coffee down and less than an hour of nothing that I would be so generous as to call sleep, first making sure that Kenzo was fed, I wrote this post on Dogspotting Society (written first on my own timeline/Instagram and Facebook business page, also widely supported), but then edited for public viewing for the Dogspotting Society Group on Facebook.

A wondrous and beautiful thing then happened that went a long way towards helping me cope and far surpassing my wildest expectations of support. My goal at the time was badly needing and wanting to share my love for Mela and my intense trauma and have people know how very important Mela’s life was. But it became so much more. The rush of love that I received both in the DSS group and on my own timeline and business page, was something I will cherish forever. With the DSS post, there were over 12,000 reactions, more than 2500 comments, nearly 60 shares, and nearly all of those comments, etc. supportive and helpful. Villa Stokroos send me a lovely video to help me cope, featured here below.

Tammy Dolby Tobac created these two lovely graphics above for me.

Erin Nicole reminded me that Chow Chows overwhelmingly enjoy being a bit (if not more than a bit) contrary, snippet here

(all used with permission). I also got 3 new Facebook friends from this sharing of love and support and that means a lot to me. All of this was more helpful to my state of mind than I can ever possibly express. Having so many people cry and feel my loss with me was very cathartic. I also want to state to anyone reading this post, that if you commented on my DSS post and I did not react, then it was only Facebook algorithms that did not allow me to see them all. I tried to keep up but there were so many and Facebook did not allow me to click all the way back. But please know how much ALL of your support meant to me. You are all wonderful to take time out of your day to help someone cope.

I don’t want to minimize the support from those I know, both in real life and on the internet, on my own timelines, business page, and Instagram feed. That support was also badly needed and greatly appreciated. I received hundreds of words of comfort, as well as cards and even a beautiful floral bouquet delivery that is still alive 4 weeks later, honoring my beautiful Mela. But I wasn’t as surprised about that support as I was by the support of perfect strangers who held space for my pain. You are ALL appreciated.

I was terribly sad and surprised to learn that far too large a quantity of dog parents have experienced a loss nearly exactly as I described. I would never wish this experience on anyone who loves a dog, let alone the sheer quantity of people who have had this same heartbreak. I don’t know if there is anything that can change this in the future, but I sure hope that I have already had my share of this experience, so that I never get to be a repeat member of this tragic club.

The internet can be an amazing thing. I am 100% sure that if we had been discussing any other topic, dog related or otherwise, from the controversial to the benign, arguments would have been far more abundant than agreements. But everyone who chose to participate in my post, shares one very big trait: they love their dogs fiercely, so they understand how much it hurts to lose them. We all want forever with our dogs. This is something that brings us all together.

Thankfully, only a very small handful of people chose to be pedantic instead of supportive: three corrected my medical knowledge and three more “diagnosed” my dog’s reason for passing and two shares, (probably the same person, I hope) painted me as the bad guy because I admitted in my post that got frustrated with my sometimes challenging dog that day. I am human and believe me, I will carry that burden forever. But all the same, I know in my heart that Mela and I had a wonderful relationship, and I can assure anyone that Mela likely got frustrated with me far more frequently than I was ever frustrated with her. She had rules and I “violated” her rules probably as much as she tested my parental boundaries. I console myself with the fact that my beautiful little warrior loved nothing more than a good battle. She would have been at home in a context of guarding the castle walls and relished every attempt to breach such. I want to think of her doing just that and waiting until the moment that we will meet again. I miss her so.

Until that day (and beyond), I will cherish forever, how very much Mela was the reason that more than 12,000 people came together for her memory. We need more of that kind of internet. Dogs truly do have the capacity to create more bonds than conflicts. We need those bonds. Please be kind when possible, to those with whom you engage with on the internet. You never truly know what they are going through. And you never know what kind of an effect you will have on them. I am grateful for those who chose to share my grief with their love and kindness. Thank you and I will pay it forward. You are forever in my heart with gratitude.

Tags: aneurysm in dogs, death of a dog, heartbreak, losing a dog, losing a young dog suddenly, loving a dog, mourning a dog, rainbow bridge, stroke in dogs, sudden passing of a dog, supporting fellow dog parents, wonder of the internet

Posted in: Projects