My baby girl Elliott

[grapey]

The house is so empty and quiet without you. I used to get annoyed when you'd grab a squeaky toy and bite it so it shrieked over and over. I remember how that stupid chicken would squeak so loud that I eventually cut a hole in it--basically slit its throat, haha--so it wouldn't squeak anymore. But now I wish I could hear any squeaky toy. Your Brian put them up on the kitchen counter because he said it would kill him to accidentally step on one and not hear/see you come running. He choked up when he said that, and you know he doesn't cry much. I've left your other toys on the floor where they were. Including that last ball that you tried to disembowel. I was watching I video I took of you when you were digging away like a crazy person at the halloween monkey stuffed toy. Guess I got that in November 2012. You had that crazed look on your face that I know so well. The monkey with its disemboweled head is on the floor of your Brian's office and I don't want to move it. He put your blanket in the washing machine and I took it out because I don't want to wash it. It still smells like you.

I'm trying to picture you as you were when you still felt good--bringing us the biggest sticks possible so we could throw them over and over. Pretending to throw them and then watching you run; we loved to harass you. Sticks were your passion in life. Part of me wishes we could have taken you to the dog park before you went, but I don't think you would have enjoyed it. You wouldn't be able to run run run everywhere, pick up the hugest stick (which always caused everybody to comment on it), run down to the creek and plop yourself down and take a huge drink, then you'd be all wet and running through the dirt/dust so when we were ready to go home you'd be dirty and muddy. I didn't mind because I knew that meant you'd had a good time. I'm hoping we can make some kind of donation to the dog park in your memory. That was your favorite place on earth. You knew what the words "dog park" meant.

The other day you perked up when I accidentally said "Petsmart." I should have spelled it out, haha. Toward the end you still perked up when I said, "Who is it? It's your Brian! Your Brian's home!" But you didn't run to the door, and you didn't run to get a squeaky toy so you could bring it to him when he stepped inside. That showed how bad you really felt. So many times I would come home from work, and if there was a squeaky toy in the kitchen, as I opened the door I would hear you run out of the crate and run to get that toy. This is the way I want to remember you. How you wanted us to throw the toy toy and yet you would not let us get it! You wanted us to *try* to get it, haha. You were our little brat. Speaking of, it's very weird not to have to put up the trash can at night! Don't have to worry about you getting into the trash anymore.

It was my privilege to take care of you, even cleaning up after you. I didn't mind because I loved you. Mama still loves you, baby gir. But I know that at least now, I'm the only one hurting. It's not you hurting anymore. You're not struggling to breathe or looking sad because you can't enjoy the things you enjoyed. You're free and at peace. It was my privilege to be there when you passed. Me petting you and Brian scratching under your chin. I didn't even know the moment you passed. I just noticed that you weren't struggling to breathe anymore. And that brought me a lot of comfort. You were still warm and just looked like you were sleeping peacefully. Which you haven't been able to do in months.

I will write more later. I think I'm getting sick. I think all the emotion of the past couple days, and the past six weeks, and the past six months really, is catching up with me. I slept all day yesterday. I just don't feel very well. I honestly don't know what to do with myself now that I don't have to worry about you. The dr. said that only now would I realize how much of a burden of worry I've been carrying since all this heart stuff started. She's been so great through all this.

[grapey]

Hey there baby girl. It's weird coming home and opening the back door and not having you there to greet me. Just now we got home and it felt weird to not talk to you or let you out of your crate. Earlier today I was loading dishes into the dishwasher and you weren't there to help me lick off the silverware (or eat the food that fell on the door . I was also thinking this morning about vacuuming the house, but then I realized you wouldn't be there to try to bite the front of the vacuum or go around and around and around it. I honestly don't know if I can vacuum now without getting upset. Maybe your Brian can do it. It's these little, random things that remind me of you. Like me laying on the couch this afternoon, with a piece of cheese next to me, and thinking, I better move this or else Elliott will try to grab it. And when I didn't finish my bread crusts you weren't there to eat them.

I can't sing my weird songs to you or talk to you with your nicknames that sound absolutely stupid to anyone but me. Baby heeno pup

Yesterday I worked at home, and it felt so empty without you here. With the mail we got two cards, one from my coworker and one from the specialist vet. Both of them made me cry. My coworker's had on the front, "Dogs just know when they are loved, even at the end, when their pain becomes too much to bear and we help them to find rest." I am not one to get emotional about a greeting card, but for some reason this brings me a lot of comfort, and of course I cry every time I read it. Then, as your Brian came home from work, he picked up your ashes. They're in a little plastic urn that looks like a gray faux marble. I'm hoping to get a little wooden box instead. But your Brian will have to move the ashes from one container to the other. I can't look at them.

The cremation place also did something that made me cry, cry, cry. They did a little paw print thing of both of your front paws into some clay, and then at the top they pressed in the letters of your name. They even spelled your name right, with the two Ts. Anyway, I see where your little toe toes pushed into the clay, even where your little crooked toe is still crooked. I see your tiny nail prints, and I think, you needed to have your nails clipped These two paw prints are so precious to me. I love your little feet.

The urn with your ashes feels kinda heavy, and it's weird to think about your body in there. I know it's not you, as in, not the crazy pigdog who would bring us the squeaky pumpkin over and over and OVER and sniff the carpet til she found one speck of something she could eat. But I do ponder how the ashes come from a tiny doggie body that seemed to have so many issues at the end. With the cushing's, the pulmonary hypertension, the huge liver, the heart, the arthritic legs, etc. It seemed like a nightmare that so much of this manifested at the same time. I guess I knew I could never keep you on all of these medications forever. But I know we did the right thing in trying them to see if they would work. And if they had worked as well as I'd hoped, I would have given them to you forever, no matter how much they would cost.

I'm so sorry I didn't take you to the specialist on Monday or Tuesday! I knew your breathing was labored, but I didn't think it was any more labored than it had been since early December (and even into November/October). The specialist vet and Brian tell me not to be hard on myself. Brian reminds me that the vet techs are *trained* to notice things like this. But still, I hate that we brought you into the waiting room, and when the vet tech started talking to me, she saw how you were breathing and said, we need to get her into the ICU into an oxygen tent. That just killed me. But the scale a minute earlier had told me what I needed to see--that you'd gained over a pound in three weeks

I hope we didn't keep you around longer than we should have. But we honestly tried to do the right thing and do the best we could. I think we did. I was looking back at how I'd meticulously tracked your water intake back when we were trying to get you induced on lysodren, and looking at all the research I did online, and I know I tried so hard. I hope you know that. I hope you know how much I loved you. I think we spent some quality time together as I figured out how to prop you up so you wouldn't have the huge liver pressing against your diaphragm, and then I could angle up your chin so you were breathing clearly. Then I would see your face twitch and your eyes roll around (kinda weird) and feel your paws move, and I knew you were dreaming and getting some good sleep. Those were the only moments I felt at peace.

It was a beautiful day today. Pretty warm and blue skies. A perfect day to throw the stick in the backyard or take you to the dog park.

[Arizona Boston]

Sweet Jen. Everything happens just as it was meant to be. Don't question yourself or relive your decisions, because they were all perfect. Your beautiful baby is at peace now. Find that peace now for yourself.
She was such a lucky girl to have you.

[grapey]

A week ago today we put you to sleep. I have a card I need to send to Dr. C to thank her. I also printed some pictures of you to send to her. I wish she could have known you when you were younger and felt better. Just now I was looking at their website, and I saw pictures of dogs that had been treated there and are now doing well. I'm sad that you're not one of them. I'm in a grouchy and jealous mindset right now--I feel like I haven't had much in life, and so many bad things have happened to me. And I'm 36 and childless, and may stay that way because I may not be able to have a baby, but you were my baby, and now you're gone.

The kitties have been a huge comfort. Sometimes I wonder if they even know you're gone, haha. You were kind of a brat to them sometimes, but I always thought it was funny. And Tobe eventually decided she wouldn't take it anymore and started her drive-by slaps--with claws. You did not like those. But I always told you, Mama will protect.

The cats have been very very loving. HOnestly, they've been a huge comfort to me. I hope that I don't turn my worry that used to be focused on you onto them. Especially Tobe and her diabetes. She had been sneezing a little bit, so I freaked out and thought, maybe she has an upper respiratory infection, we should take her to the vet. But I know I can't go to the vet right now. I absolutely cannot go to the vet. So your Brian will take her.

I am feeling better these days, but I still cry several times a day. Like V advised me, I'm just "riding the wave" and crying when I need to. Then, when I'm done crying, I feel better. Last night I was crying in Target after I got kinda rude with a worker there--who, honestly, was being rude to me! But I didn't need to get so short with her. I know that I'm emotionally on edge these days because of you. I"m hurting. I find myself getting more angry at your Brian the last few days. I can't always pinpoint why. After I came home from Target, I cried some more, because it was one week since the last evening I spent with you. I miss you, but I don't want you to be in that situation again, with you not able to breathe very well. Oh, that made me so upset to see. In some ways it's easier now that you're gone, because it hurt so much to see you hurting. Now I know you're at peace, and the only person hurting is me.

When I get up in the night and want to go into the kitchen to get a granola bar or something, it's so weird to not have to step over the baby gate. And I go over to your create, mostly out of habit, but you're not there. Nobody's in your crate. I hate that. When your Brian isn't home, I call you even though you're not there. I just want to say those familiar things. And sometimes I sing those goofy songs. When other people are around, or in the car, I talk to you in my head.

I've been watching some videos of you. I took SO MANY pictures and videos of you over the years! I'm glad It's really nice to see you jumping and running all over the place. I honestly never thought it would get so bad that you wouldn't be able to jump on the couch and look out the window.

We got a really nice sympathy card from the vet. It was signed by almost everyone in the office. That meant so, so much to me. They all wrote little notes, even Dr. S. They all said you were a special girl they wouldn't forget. It was a lot more personal than most of these kinds of cards. Their kindness just made me cry and cry.

Mama loves you. Your meem loves you. I know you're taking your sleeps, and I'm glad. You're breathing so easily, and you're totally, totally relaxed and comfortable. You have all of your muscle mass back, and your abdominal organs are all normal sized, so when you lay down they don't press up your diaphragm. Your belly is sleek and trim, and you have all of your hair back. The cataracts are gone from your eyes.

[grapey]

Hey there heeno,
I just came into this coffee shop to work for a bit, and as I was wiping off my snowy feet on the mat, I remembered how you used to do this weird thing when you peed in grass. After you peed, you would sorta kick your back feet back, stirring up all this grass and dirt. It was hilarious. I wondered if you were channeling a cat trying to cover up its poop in a litter box. You did this little back kick thing for several seconds, usually with a big grin on your face. Crazy gir.

It made me laugh when I would have you go outside to pee, but you didn't want to, but you would squat down anyway and pretend to pee while looking up at me with this look on your face that said, Are you buying this? Huh? You buying this? haha And after that you would *still* go in the house and look up at the treat container. Tiny brat

I've heard people say, all the good animals go to heaven, but they don't think the bad ones will be there. I always respond, well, Elliott wasn't always perfect. She had her bratty behaviors. Yes, that's you, my stinkus! You would sometimes charge at Tobe just becuase she was where you wanted to sit. And when one of the cats would be sitting on Brian's lap, and you wanted to sit on his lap too, you would climb up and then just lay down wherever you wanted, even if it pushed the cat to the edge. You were my brat dog, but I say that with affection. You were never cruel or mean, just a brat sometimes That was part of what I love about you. Ryan said you had a big heart (metaphorically speaking) and a big personality to match. True, true, true.

Today I went to my appt with my therapist. My first appt with her since you died. I told her all about what led up to that hard decision and how it all happened very peacefully and beautifully. I am so glad I went back to therapy through all this. I knew I couldn't go through all this alone. It's too, too hard. It says a lot about how much I love you that I would start going to therapy again after three years away. I know that if I hadn't gone through d b t, I would never be surviving right now. My psych nurse who gives me my brain pills is a nice lady, and she's actually the one who strongly suggested I see a therapist, if only for a few appointments during all of this pain and stress. But she's not the most sympathetic person--she told me she grew up on a farm and didn't see animals as pets. But she's the pill person. My therapist, B, is the one I really talk to, and she loves pets too. I don't feel judged there.

Heen, I miss you so much. I cry multiple times a day. I ride the wave and cry whenever I need to. I'm actually getting through this, I think. Part of that, I think, is knowing you're not suffering anymore. You're not struggling to breathe. You're at peace. That gives *me* peace. But it still hurts so much. Mama loves you so much.

[grapey]

Just when I think, hey, I'm handling this pretty well, I have a night like tonight. I had a really rough evening. I miss you so much. I was thinking about how happy you were when we went to petsmart. I had to keep an eye on you around the toys/rawhides at your level--you'd grab them It was so fun going on petsmart trips. Right now, I don't know when I'll be able to go to a pet store again. Not for a while. I can't see all the dog stuff without crying.

So I'm awake at 1:30. This has been a pattern this week--I go to bed about 11 and wake up at 1:30 or so. And I eat two granola bars. The last few days I've been eating really terribly. It really scares me. I haven't eaten like this since before my pre-op diet in June. I am using food to comfort myself. I had a frickin candy bar for lunch!! I feel like Im reverting to old patterns and that terrifies me.

Mama misses you and loves you very mech.

[grapey]

Heeno, I'm so sad. I was in the car today and looking for your nose smudges on the window but I couldn't find any. It's weird to not have you jump in the car and snuffle in the cup holders, backseat, floor, etc. looking for crumbs. I tried to angle down the vents when I had on the heat or air conditioning. Some moments I'm doing well, and then something hits me and it's just like I hurt like the day you passed. I wish you were here. I squeezed your squeaky santa just to hear it and the sound almost made me cry. I miss that sound. I miss you snuffling against the bedroom door when you want in. I miss you not being there to help me cook when you eat the scraps that fall on the floor I had a little bit left of my cream of wheat last night and I wanted to let you have the rest. You didn't deserve to go at 9. You were too young. I truly wonder if my life is cursed. I don't want to bring another person or pet into my wake. I just can't expect to have a happy life like most people. That's my fate--to have bad thing after bad thing happen while others expect and get the good things. But you were the joy of my life for the time you were with me. A bright spot in the dark. I'm glad you're at peace and the only one hurting is me--not you.

[grapey]

Hey there stinky. I had quite a meltdown Wednesday. I felt more pain over your death than I'd had since t hot e day we put you to sleep. I was kind of relieved when I got my period the next day. I don't know if I care so much about having a baby anymore. I think it would be selfish to bring a person into this horrible world. Maybe I will Chan he my mind one day. But I truly think anyone who has lived my life would feel the same way. So lucky for those people who haven't seen the world like I have. You and Brian have been bright spots in the darkness. Maybe I will feel better someday.

Yesterday I thought I heard you jump down from the chair. Then my brain was waiting to hear your nails click on the kitchen floor and the sound of you drinking. We are thinking about putting the cat bowl on the floor instead of the tray because we don't have to worry about you stealing the cat food and we have left the lid off the litter box because we don't have to worry about you sneaking treats. Hilarious to hear you go for them the second I left for work and I could hear you thru the open window. I wondered if my voice sounded like the voice of God

I am relaxing w your Brian at the coffee place. A good day so far.

[grapey]

Hi there heen. I had a couple rough moments at work today. Tobe needs a refill on her lantus, but I didn't want to call the vet. I thought I would probably cry. But I did it, and I'm OK. Good thing I called because the pen is almost empty. Tobe's blood sugar is super high, hopefully just because we're shooting her mostly air. We'll have to take her in for a regular checkup, and I'm afraid to go back to the vet. I know I'll have to do it someday, and they've all been so good to us, esp. when it comes to you, so it's OK if I cry there (I'm sure I will). I know they'll understand. But you won't be there to eat your favorite jerky-flavored treats. You always loved *that* part of going to the vet.

Tonight I took the red blanket off your crate and the red pillow (which I don't know if you ever used). I think this is a good step for me. I'm not moving your crate or taking out your bed or the blanket inside, but at least now I'll be forced to see that your crate is empty. Sometimes at night, when I get a snack or something, I bend down and peek in your crate and wish you were there. I wish I would see you laying there, relaxed, and then your eyes would open and you'd look up at me, like, What? I'm just sleeping in here.

I was watching a video of you playing with the huge squeaky chicken. Wow that thing was loud and annoying. So great to see you jump on the bed, jump off, bring me the chicken and want me to grab it, then you grab it again ... that was the way it went. Sometimes, when I hope that you're in heaven, I picture you there with Jesus, and you're trying to get Jesus to try to grab the squeaky toy, but he can't grab it, because you pull back ... etc etc. That image makes me laugh

I was just remembering how your Brian would put you on your back and rub your belly, and you'd make this crazy face and this weird sound, and we'd say, She's lost it! She's totally totally lost it! That was different from your other crazy face though

[grapey]

Elliott! I'm saying your name in that singsongy way in my head. You've been gone for three weeks today. Sometimes it feels like a bad dream. Like I'm going to wake up and think, What a nightmare. And I'd be really upset, but mostly so relieved. I just have these moments where it doesn't seem real. It feels like in the back of my mind I think you're just being boarded, or staying with gram gram like the week after we got married. You being gone for two weeks was really hard. I missed you so much. I think two weeks was the longest I was ever away from you. Sometimes in my mind, as I'm talking to myself, I'll say something about "Elliott's death" or "When Elliott died ..." I'm getting more used to the phrase "Elliott died" but sometimes it just feels like a knife stabbing me in the heart. It seems so unreal that you're gone. I miss you so much. It really is terrible, terrible, terrible. Sometimes I just want to scream at the agony of it. I want to refuse to believe it. But also, sometimes, I envy you. You don't have to live in this #!@$# world anymore.

I gave those crumbly rawhides to my coworker today. The tiniest thing makes me emotional. Putting the rawhides in my purse and then taking them over to her desk made me upset this morning. I am glad to give them to her. She and her husband had to put one of their dogs to sleep in December I think, and then a year before that, her dog died suddenly. She and I both married later in life, and we both had wonderful doggies during our lonely single years. She and I don't talk much usually, but I knew she would understand what I'm going through, so on my way back from the restroom yesterday, I saw her by the sink, and she asked, how are you? And I honestly said, oh, just coming back from the bathroom, crying about my dog. And as I said it I choked up again. Well, we talked for a little bit about our dogs, and I was reminded how I've learned that sharing your pain with others can be very precious and healing. They have one dog left out of the three, and I thought she might like those bones. You loved hearing me ask "Rawhide?" Another one of your favorite things. Somehow, giving those bones to her and knowing they wouldn't just go to waste/be thrown away gives me a lot of comfort. Just like the specialists taking all of your leftover pills and supplements. I didn't know if they would, but they did, and that made me feel really good. It really hurt when your Brian threw them away after you died. He didn't think anything of it and he didn't know I would be upset. I'm not giving away anything else of yours.

I wish your were laying here in the chair next to me, sleeping peacefully, every once in a while taking a huge ol' snort. That always made me (and others) laugh.

I will continue to take one day at a time. But I am very down. Very depressed. They say that having a pet is really good for people with depression, because it gives them unconditional love. But they don't talk about how those people bond so deeply with their pets, and how they suffer when those pets die. I am suffering and feel very hopeless. Your Brian has been so supportive and good to me through all this. Things would be very, very, very bad for me if he wasn't here right now.

Your Brian's dad is moving into his new house next Saturday. I wish you could have had the chance to run around on his new property. Such a huge fenced in area, two acres. You would have loved it. At least you got to enjoy our landscaped backyard. But you were always happy with whatever we had or didn't have.