My husband and I lost our adopted silky terrier this past Saturday, May 23. Gizmo was blessed in that all of years (except perhaps for his last, due to failing health), were happy ones. Gizmo came from a loving home with a wonderful woman who had to give him up when she went into an assisted living facility. Her daughter then took him in, but Gizmo and her dog did not get along and she feared for Gizmo's safety. This is how we came into his life, and he came into ours. Gizmo was blessed to have lived in three loving homes.
Here is the tribute my husband wrote, which perfectly expresses how I feel.
OUR LAST GOODBYE
On Saturday, Allison and I said goodbye to Gizmo for the second and last time.
The first time we said goodbye to Gizmo was in June of 2013. We started fostering him the previous December with the understanding that we would only be able to keep him until the end of May, when we would leave for our annual trip to visit Allison’s family. But surely someone would adopt him before then! Well, no, it turns out no one really wants an elderly dog with Cushing’s. And so on his last full day with us, we took him and our dog Barnaby for a romp at Pioneer Park, which concluded with ice cream for everyone. The next day he was picked up at our house to be taken to his new foster family. As he was being carried away, he looked back at us with the saddest eyes. And that’s how we ended up taking him back after our trip and adopting him the following January.
Gizmo was a happy-go-lucky dog. He was full of energy, even in his senior years. He loved to rip toys apart. He loved our dog and hated our cat. When there was nothing to do, he would sit and wobble like an excited R2-D2. But shortly after we began fostering him the second time, he injured his back. Although his back legs were completely paralyzed for a while, he eventually regained the ability to walk. Not once did he lose his zest for life.
Only in the past few months had we begun to worry that the second goodbye might be near. Gizmo’s back legs had been growing weaker and weaker, and eventually he lost the ability to walk on his own. His already bad eyesight and bad hearing had gotten worse. He got pancreatitis, and got it again, and again, and again. His zest for life was waning. Finally, he stopped eating entirely. When we started fostering him, he had weighed over twelve pounds. Now he was down to eight. We had talked about spoiling Gizmo when we knew the end was near. But when that time actually came, spoiling him was no longer possible. He couldn’t go on walks. He had almost no energy. He wouldn’t eat anything, no matter how tempting.
But—There had been that first goodbye! We’d spoiled him then! He’d received the goodbye he deserved! How great to have gotten that chance. And how great that the first goodbye didn’t stick.
On his last day, we sat with Gizmo in the backyard. We pet him and held him and told him how much he was loved. It shows how poorly he felt that this dog, who was never a lap dog, laid peacefully in my lap as I read – the first and last time he ever did so.
This second goodbye has hurt so much more than the first. This one is forever.