10 year old female beagle just diagnosed with Cushings - Ginger has passed

Sunday, March 7th at 2:40 p.m. we had to say goodbye to my baby girl, my best friend, my little heart beat at my feet.
16 years, 6 months, 7 days. I am beyond sad, beyond lost, beyond heartbroken. She was the best friend I ever had. My baby, my little girl... thank you one and all for all the help and encouragement through the years. I will be back later.. to share more.. I Just Can't Right Now.😭😭💔💔

Oh Colleen,

I’m so very sorry for your loss. Thank you so much, though, for coming back and letting us know. Ginger has now joined our other sweet angels on our special memorial thread of honor, and we will always remain here for you, as well.

If you’d like for us to add a photo link to her memorial line, it would be our privilege to do so. At any time, you can send a photo of your choice to us at k9cushings@gmail.com, and we’ll take it from there.


She’s now forever free from pain, but at such a cost to your own heart. Truly, we’ll always remain here by your side should you wish to return and tell us more — about anything. Your lives together, special memories, how you’re doing on any given day.

I’m sending many hugs to you from across the miles, and please know that sweet Ginger will always be remembered and honored here by her K9C family.

With Heartfelt Sympathy,
Lori

Our dear Colleen,

I, too, am so sorry to read your news. But like Lori, I’m so grateful you’ve returned to us and are allowing us to join you in honoring sweetie Ginger’s life and spirit. What a good, brave girl!!! When you feel up to it, please do come back again. We’ll always be here for you. And we’ll always treasure these years that you’ve shared Ginger with us. She will never be forgotten by her family here.

Sending you all my wishes for peace and comfort at this heartbreaking time,
Marianne

Dear Colleen,

My heart is deeply saddened by this news and know yours is absolutely shattered. You have been a superb mom and I have no doubt Ginger loves you every bit as much as you do her. And yes, I speak in present terms because this is a love that will never pass. It will endure for all eternity. When that moment came, Ginger crossed the great Divide carrying that love in her heart and she will continue to carry it with her always. Today Ginger is as she was before she became ill, full of energy and joy, strong and whole, running wild in the Rainbow Fields chasing butterflies and bunnies, playing with friends old and new, sharing time with all those who went before that knew and loved her. She will be watching over you now just as you have so diligently watched over her.

You and Ginger joined our family 7 years ago, a few months before my beloved Squirt had to leave this life. You thanked us but I thank you and Ginger. For being here thru all these years, sharing your journey with us, letting us come to know and love your precious girl. You and Ginger have been a steady and beautifully bright thread running thru the tapestry of this little family. Now our tears fall with yours. But I firmly believe that one day, when our jobs here on Earth are done, we will all be with our beloved babies again. When that day comes, we will never again be parted from each other.

I still cry almost every day missing my Sweet Bebe. But those tears are simply the outward sign of the love we still share, a way of honoring that everlasting love. Grieve as long as you need in any way that you need. There is only one rule to grieving - do no harm. As Lori said, if you need to talk we are here.

My deepest sympathy,
Leslie

On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.

And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets into you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green
and azure blue,
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays
in the currach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.

And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.

by John O'Donohue
from Echoes of Memory

I'm so sorry for your loss, Colleen. We all understand how heartbreaken you are, and we feel deeply for you. Losing a beloved pet is one of the hardest things life throws at us.Lena would have been 20 this coming birthday on the 19th and even though I doubt she would have lived until then, I still feel cheated for the last five years of not having her with me.

It does get easier; you never stop missing them; you just get used to it. I find myself smiling more when I remember the little things I loved so much about her. Just the other day I went to pick up Sibbie and remembered how Lee used to turn around with her back to me which made it easier to pick her up. She did that since she was a puppy and I can't remember how she learned to do it. The memories will get easier as time goes on.

I believe as Leslie does, that we will see them again when our time comes...

I never thought anything could hurt so bad, so deep!

After my beloved Squirt had to leave, I would find myself suddenly screaming. It hurt so badly. The only thing that has hurt worse was when my adult daughter died. It was Squirt who kept me on this Earth when that happened. She was the only one who never left my side, who simply accepted that I was shattered into a million million pieces, that I was forever changed. She was the one who came to my side when I would fall to the floor or simply stopped being present. She was the one who kissed my tears away and always reached out to touch me. She was the only one who still needed me....and I was rapidly learning that I need to be needed. Without Squirt I would have joined my child, there is no question in my mind about that. When the day came that Squirt had to join Gia, all that vast empty agony came roaring back, doubled. And those sudden screams told it all. She and my daughter had shared a deep bond. Until her last day, I could ask Squirt, "where's Sissy?" and she would start looking for Gia. I believe Squirt felt Gia's continued presence more than I ever did; my pain kept me from that connection. With both my girls gone I was not sure I could go on. When Squirt left I felt I had lost that special link the three of us shared. So for weeks on end, maybe months...time ceased to have meaning, those screams would tear out of me because the pain was so physically, mentally, emotionally intense it is beyond describing. Squirt will have been gone seven years this coming May and Gia 15 years this coming Nov. Still, many days I find myself in tears with that indescribable pain only a hair's breadth away. It has gotten better, easier to bear, but I don't think it will ever stop. And in truth I don't really want it to. I'm afraid if the day comes that I no longer feel the anguish their loss brings that will be the day I have forgotten them and all they meant to my life, and Soul.

There is a quote that says something along the lines that grief and tears are simply love with no place to go. On one hand, I think that is right, especially in the beginning. But in time, as we learn how to carry our grief and join the walking wounded, we find places to put that love. We find another to love in a special way - not the same, never the same, but nonetheless special all on its own. We find ways to honor those we love and have lost by doing things that keep their spirits alive even it that is nothing more than sharing their stories with others who find themselves in similar situations. We find ways to maintain the relationship even though that relationship has changed. And, yes, we still cry and sometimes scream. But, in time, we learn that is alright. We learn that those are the times when that love has no place to go but out into the Universe.

Today I can see and hear and feel my girls presences around me. I know they are still with me just in a different form. I know they are doing all they can to keep me facing forward. There are days when it is all I can do to put one foot in front of the other and there are days when I can't even do that. But on those days I feel my girls beside me, simply being in the only way available to them for now. It brings me great comfort to know they are together again, just as they once were. And knowing that one day I will be with them again is the fuel that allows me to continue in this life.

You will find ways to walk through this dark valley and come out the other side, changed but present again. The Japanese have an art form called Kintsugi in which broken pottery is repaired using lacquer and gold to bond the pieces. They believe the gold makes the repaired piece even more beautiful than the original, and stronger, more resilient. I believe this is true of us as well. Our broken pieces will mend and even though those cracks will forever be evident those sharp edges can been seen as shining with a golden light. We have faced the worst and survived. More than survived. We have become stronger and more resilient because we did walk through that dark and fiery valley.

So you grieve. You scream, cry, throw things, cuss, stomp your feet, sleep for days on end...whatever you need. You will heal. And in the healing you will find one day that your broken, sharp edges are shining with light because you did grieve so deeply and survived. And through it all, you precious Ginger will be by your side, lending you her strength and promise.

You are not alone, Colleen. We do understand and we are here to hold your hand and share in your tears as long as needed.
Hugs,
Leslie

When Lena died, I went into total shock. I was so numb and all I did was cry. I know I went to work, but don't really remember much of those days. I could't wait to get home, even though I knew she would not be there waiting by the front door for me, and curl up on the couch with Gable and Cooper. Gable was the only one who understood...he loved Lee too and knew how hurt I was. My husband said that I was catatonic, all I know is I felt like I was in this balloon of despair. It was so quiet...I was used to hearing her sliding on the floor; snoring in her sleep; waking me up with her kisses. It was awful.

Then 10 days later my husband brought home a puppy. I was furious. I didn't want to replace my baby. I still needed to grieve...So Sibbie kept herself busy while me, Gable and Cooper watched her from the couch. She only knew me as this screaming, crying lunatic who fed her and cleaned up after her, but didn't have the capacity to let her into my heart.

It didn't take long for that to change...little by little it happened. She needed me and as it turned out, I needed her. She is not like Lee; she has her own personality; she's dependent and stubborn, not like Lee at all, but I love her for who she is. She'll never replace the dog of my heart, but she does have her own place in there. I love her and after five years, we have our own special relationship, different from the one I had with Lena, but still special.

There are many days when I still cry, scream and still don't understand why I lost the baby I loved so much. A memory can either set me off, or make me smile; a song on the radio can either make me cry or make me pretend that she is still in my arms as we used to dance around; a picture can either make me happy or make me scream.

I will never stop missing her...I have just gotten used to it. I love, and have loved, all of my furbabies, just in different ways.

She was the dog of my heart and soul...

Thank you, I did send 2 photos, please feel free to use either. I have so very many that are favorites.

Thank you all for the kind words an for sharing your stories. I am deeply sorry for your losses as well. I do find comfort in knowing others understand. I am so incredibly exhausted, physically and mentally. I feel such sadness, emptiness, regret and guilt. I know I cannot change things, I know no matter how much any of us do, we all wonder could we have done more, done things differently. The "what ifs" haunt us. Perhaps that is normal in grief. Ginger was always so tender, so clingy, she remained a baby her entire life. We allowed her to be and wouldn't change it for anything. Where we went, she went. There were maybe a handful of times in her life that she was not with one, if not both of us. It never seems enough..
I will share her story as I can.