Dealing with the Loss of Your Pet

In the last ten years, I have lost three dogs. I had all three together at first, Skip, who was a little old Cocker Spaniel cross who ruled the roost, Freckles, a pit bull/pointer cross, and Hazle a pit bull/Labrador cross. I often referred to Freckles and Hazle as American Bulldog types to avoid hysteria when introducing them to strangers, so you may see them referred to as American Bulldog types in some of my other work.

When Skip was about twenty-one and Freckles was about sixteen and Hazle was about four, Skip died quietly in his bed of old age. I had the other two, and didn't think of getting another dog. It was not really so hard to get over losing him because he was so very old. His health had been declining for a awhile. He couldn't see or hear and didn't like to go for walks any more. So it was easy to accept that his time had come.

About a year later, Freckles began to lose the ability to bear weight on his back legs. His hips had been giving him a little trouble for a couple of years. He had hip dysplasia, and it just got very bad quickly. I prepared myself to have him put to sleep because he was suffering. When I took him to the vet, he convinced me to put Freckles on Rimadyl to manage his pain and extend his life. This goes directly against my usual policy of providing one round of medication and/or one surgery for a pet but not doing chronic medication. I made an exception for Freckles.

I would say that the Rimadyl gave him a good quality of life for about six more months. Then it gave him over a year of being unable to stand but being in no pain. I got him from place to place in the house and took him out to do his business using a kind of harness contraption to hold him up. I got him a running stroller to ride in for his walks. I laid the back down and put a pillow in it to make a flat comfortable surface then put him in it backwards (facing out the back) and pulled it rather than pushing it. He was happy, not in pain, but I always got the sense that he was waiting to get better. One day I came home from work to find that he had had an accident and fallen and could not get himself away from the mess. This was happening more and more frequently as he was losing the ability to tell when he needed to go and also the ability to wait.

I cleaned him up and took him out for a last stroll and took him to the vet to be put to sleep. The vet took us to the back exam room. The lights were dimmed, and it was quiet. I stayed with Freckles, and I cannot describe the sense of peace and relief that surrounded him as he passed. Still, if I had it to do over again, I would not do the Rimadyl. Having him put to sleep at this point was a different decision. Before the Rimadyl, I was ready to have him put to sleep because he was in pain. He was not happy or enjoying life, but he was still able to get himself outside when he needed to. He still had his dignity. Now, he was an invalid, completely dependent on me and, I think, trusting that I would get him better. The decision to put him to sleep at this point was a different one. He was not in pain. He was happy and cared for. But could I go on making all the accommodations I would need to for a dog with this severe disability? At this point the decision was more about me than about him. I won't do it that way again.

After Freckles was gone, I still had Hazle. She was happy to be an only dog. She had been abused as a puppy and had always been shy. She blossomed as the center of attention, and I had no intention of getting another dog. She learned not to be afraid of strangers and became more outgoing and sociable with the other two dogs gone. One day we came home in the car. She saw our neighbor across the street. When I opened the door to let her out, she bolted across the street to see him and was run down by a truck. I don't think I will ever recover from losing her. I had no time to prepare, and she was enjoying life so much. The void she left was unbearable. Three days later, I answered an ad in the paper for an affectionate female pit bull mix and brought Amber home.

I found out rather quickly that, even though Amber looks a bit pit bullish, she is no pit bull. A pit bull is an intelligent, calm, loyal, highly trainable animal. A pit bull will behave the way it's person wants it to, even if it goes against the grain. That's why they can be taught to fight. They are not naturally "mean" they are naturally loyal, and pleasing their person is the most important thing in the world. That statement does not describe Amber. I believe she is probably a Catahoula leopard dog/pointer/greyhound cross. She is high strung, flighty, overly sensitive, self-motivated, and a completely different training experience than a pit bull type.

Where Hazle and Freckles would stay inside a three foot high fence just because they knew I wanted them to, Amber thinks nothing of jumping a six foot fence if she feels like going somewhere. Freckles and Hazle would come when called, back down from a confrontation, and do just about anything I told them to with just a word or two spoken in normal tone of voice. Amber comes when called if she feels like it. Otherwise she does as she pleases. If I take her to the dog park, she won't start a fight, but if one breaks out, she jumps right in the middle of it and singles out the smallest dog to pick on. I have to wade into the fray to make her stop, then she runs away if she is able to when I separate her. Needless to say, we no longer go to the dog park. She is finally, after two years, learning to respond (selectively) to some voice commands, but they are commands - not conversation.

She is a good dog. But she is a completely different dog than Hazle or Freckles. Having her was very, very hard for the first couple of months because I missed Hazle so much, and Amber is nothing like Hazle. Once I determined what breeds I thought she was made up of, I did some research on their temperaments and the type of training that works well for them. I had to make a conscious decision to change my training methods and my expectations. I actually sat down on the floor with Amber and told her that we were going to start over, and we did.

She will never be the dog that walks at my heel and looks to me for every decision the way Freckles and Hazle did. She will never have the vocabulary they had. She will never be able to go outside off leash, even in a well fenced yard, because she is an escape artist, and my wishes don't mean much to her! But, she is a sweet, affectionate dog. She has carved her own place with me. She keeps me in shape because I am obliged to take her on a two mile bike ride every day to keep her energy level under control!

And she did help me in the months after Hazle was killed. I don't think I could have tolerated the emptiness or brought myself to do anything with Hazle's bed and toys and dishes. Nor could I have lived with seeing them every day with no Hazle. It was good to have Amber step right in and start using them without having to change anything. So even though, neither of us were very happy during the first couple of months that I had her, I am glad that I got her three days after losing Hazle.

There are varying opinions on how long one should wait to get another pet after losing one. A lot of people might think I got Amber too quickly. All I can say is you just have to weigh your sorrow. I could not have carried mine alone. Amber helped me with that. If I could do it differently, I would still get her, but I think I would take more time observing her behavior to see her personality rather than expecting her to be like the dog that I lost.