You guys, you friends of mine, on the internet, in real life and both, are a most amazing lot. Your tweets, your emails, your phone calls, your comments here and on facebook have meant so much to me…you have no idea. And to those of you who actually came to call, I can only thank you and apologize. I am, after all, the world’s ugliest crier.
Half of the time, I feel silly. Like I need medication. Like a drama queen moaning on and on about a dog. A Dog. But my feelings are so true and real and raw that I can’t help but put them out there. So, please, consider yourself excused and allow your eyes to fly right by this post without a second thought. You’ve said what’s important. You’ve reached out with comfort. You’ve been a good friend. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
This post is me using space to record my own history. The way things happened. I just need to fill in the blanks because some things feel important to write down.
Lillian was diagnosed with lymphoma in October of 2008. A few weeks after diagnosis, we began chemotherapy in hopes of extending her life with her good quality of life for another year or more. Two months into chemo, she came out of remission. One week ago, the cancer finally hit her hard.
She had her last hurrah two Saturdays ago when I hosted a party for our Jazzercise center. At the end of the evening, she came out and socialized with all of the ladies. Lil always loved parties. Not only could she easily reach all of the yummies that were on the counters and coffee tables, she loved the attention she received. I believe that she knew she was a stunning creature and worked it…God bless her. By Sunday, she was having trouble getting up out of her bed. It went downhill from there quickly.
Last week, I knew it was the end. I kept checking on her to see if she was breathing like I used to do neurotically when my girls were babies. I didn’t leave the house for more than 3 hours at a time. I worried about her pain and asked the vet to prescribe her medication which enabled her get up and go out to the bathroom. A few days prior to getting medication, she would just walk out into yard and stare back at me. I didn’t know if she was confused or in too much pain to squat. I had to walk out and guide her back in the house afterward. I feared that soon she would be unable to get up and knew I couldn’t lift her and all of her 140 pounds alone.
On her last night, Friday night, she was in too much pain to get comfortable on her bed. She kept shifting and circling and coming over to wake me up. Finally, I got out of bed and laid down with her on the floor. With me comforting her, she was able to rest a bit.
By the next morning, Lillian’s neck glands on her left side had swollen up to the size of a grapefruit and she was having a hard time lifting up her head. With a heavy heart, I knew what I had to do and I knew it had to be soon.
My 13 year old daughter was in San Francisco for the weekend with my husband. My 9 year old had plans to stay at my cousin’s for the night. I would be alone. I took that as a sign that God had made it a little easier on me to do what I had to do.
At 3pm on Saturday, I called the vet and confirmed the plan I had set in motion earlier that day. For the next hour as I waited for her to arrive, I sat with Lillian and told her how much I loved her. I told her how sorry I was that I couldn’t do more to help her. How I hoped that I was doing the right thing. How much I would miss her.
With my face in her fur and my tears on her neck, I told Lillian goodbye as she passed away peacefully at 4pm Saturday, January 24th.
Throughout her life, I spent hours and hundreds of dollars to train her. Ironically, in the end, I invited her onto my furniture and fed her scrambled eggs and pork roast from a fork.And when I broke the news to my 9 year old the next day, she said something I think I’ll always remember.
“But Mommy, I didn’t hug Lil tight enough when I said goodbye.”
She didn’t know it was going to be forever. None of us had any idea when we met Lillian 4 and half years ago, that we would, that we could ever, love a pet this much.
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Yes. That’s what that’s like.
I’m so sorry about your loss. Dogs can be amazing supports and beloved family members, as was obviously the case with Lillian. I know you’re missing her. (HUGS)
Oh sweetie. I’m so sorry for your loss. Your decision was a kind and humane choice. I hope you will cherish all of your fondest memories of her.
I am so sorry for your loss. Animals become such a part of our life and we mourn them so much when they are gone. Hugs.
Oh that is the saddest story ever.
I now work with hospice and it feels like you are hospice nurse with animals.
She knew that you loved her and that your daughters did too. xo
Losing a pet is honestly one of the hardest things you can ever go through. One of the best quotes I ever heard was, “there is no way out but through.” Just feel it, and get through the other side.
It’s okay to mourn, and better to do it with friends who understand. I still miss my childhood dog that’s been gone for almost 30 years now.
Don’t feel like you have to make excuses for your grief. It IS real and it IS raw. Those of us who have shared a special bond with an animal understand completely.
That is beautiful and so, so sad. I’m so sorry about your loss of Lillian. She was a beautiful dog and I know she had a wonderful life in your home. (((HUGS)))
It is important to write down. I’m glad you did.
I’m crying with you, just as you cried with me, and I know you’ll come back to this and read it when you’re really missing her.
xox
Hugs, Tears & Prayers to you all…
I’m so sorry… she was a sweet girl.
Hugs.
xo
LBC
I talk smack about how I don’t like our dog, but truth is, I do, and not just because it’s so obvious how much the kids love him, and how much he loves the kids. I hope we have him around for many more years, but when his time comes, I will remember this post and feed him scrambled eggs and pork.
this made my cry more than Marley and Me.
which made me cry a friggin’ lot.
this is such a beautiful tribute. HUGS.
After reading your post, it made me think that we should always hug a little tighter when we say good-bye. I know you will miss Lilian, we all will. I will never forget her rounds of chasing Bailey around the patio table, the day she jumped into the trunk of my car, and her mysterious introduction to your family. She was a gentle and loving dog and she had a great life. xoxo
My condolences and I know the rawness of losing a pet part of the family. I lost one to cancer as well and this brought back all of those feelings. A real tight virtual hug from me to you.
I’m so glad that you were there for her and so sorry that you had to be alone. Thinking about you…
Oh Kimberly. I am sitting here sobbing for you and you family. It is so hard to let our furry family members go. Know that she is in peace now and that you did the right thing. XOXOXO….
I’m so sorry. It’s good she was able to pass away at home.
Kim….I am soooo sorry to hear about Lillian..I had no idea! I would have given you a big hug Monday morning!! Like you wrote in your blog, she was just movin and groovin during the Jazz party. Please know my thoughts and prayers are with you and your family…Hugs to you all…
You don’t have to apologize. Painfully enough, I am sure we have all lost a family pet. The love they give us is real and it is hard to get past that. Lil was loved and you provided her with a wonderful home. Write away, do what ever helps you at this hard time. xoxo
I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone.
Our pets are not “just” dogs or cats to us. They are givers of unconditional love. They assume the same from us. Their innocent acceptance of us, zits and all, gives them an open door into our hearts and souls that we don’t often allow other people to even see…let alone pass through.
Seems only right to me that the loss of a fellow creature who loves and is loved with such purity and innocence should be mourned in the same way…honestly, and in full measure.
Oh honey…my heart goes out to you. You know where all dogs go right?
She’s there…playing in the clouds, pain free.
xoxoxo
beautiful post, beautiful story, beautiful relationship. i’m sorry for your loss.
I once had a “last night” with Charlie. Her kidneys were failing and we were told we were going to have to put her to sleep the next day. I made a “hail Mary” call to a friend who had a friend who was a vet that took her and she recovered.
But you capture so beautifully exactly what it felt like when we thought we were losing her.
I’m so sorry you lost sweet Lil. I know how much you loved her.
Lil was a dog, but she was not JUST a dog. She was unconditional love wrapped in fur, and that deserves to be mourned hard. I still miss pets that have gone on, even 25-30 years later. I still get choked up when I think about how our dog Hank, who was in so much pain that walking was a trial, got out of the truck that last time, walked proudly into the vet’s office, and collapsed on the floor. He would not be carried in, he made those last steps on sheer will. With dignity. No whining.
Oh yeah, the furballs deserve our heartfelt mourning. They love us no matter what, they listen to our secrets, and they show us paths we otherwise might not take.
I appreciate that you’ve shared Lil with us. And now my face is leaking, thank you very much…
The beauty is she always knew you loved her and you were loved by her.
ok! so now I’m an ugly crying mess- i love this post but hate that you have lost her! I’m so glad you got to be with her in the end- I remember how it felt to go through all of this with Normie and it’s hard but also very comforting-give your whole family a big hug from their friends out west and we know she will always be in your hearts-that’s one place that she will never leave!
Oh Kimberly, I can’t even tell you how sorry I am for your loss. Lillian was one lucky pup to have you. You’re a fabulous mama to your furbaby. She was truly blessed.
I’m just so sorry! It’s beautiful though that you could help her suffering at the end just by lying there with her. You gave her a beautiful life and a peaceful end, and that’s a gift for sure.
All my love to you and your family. Lillian will become a happy memory eventually, but I know it will be a long, sad journey. My heart is with you.
My greatest sympathies, K. My first dog (and our first family pet) also had lymphoma and after two remissions, we had to put him down. That was three years ago. I still think about him almost every day.
I am so so sorry!!!
Again, I’m so sorry. She was definitely a big part of your family. You did everything right. You took care of her as much as you could, and when it was time, you knew and you helped her. You’re a good doggie mom. And I know she felt all of the hugs, tight or not.
I’m so sorry for your loss, and so glad that you had wonderful time with Lil–especially that last party! What a great day for a great dog.
Sometimes we think we shouldn’t allow ourselves to grieve for pets because, after all, they’re just animals. But no pet I’ve ever had has been “just” an animal. They’ve been companions and consolers, partners in crime and warmers of toes, a delight and an aggravation, and a part of the family.
Our lives haven’t been complete (despite still having a WonderMutt of a dog and a crazy cat) since my cat Otis died two and a half years ago. I had him for 7 great years until he developed leukemia (leucoblastic, not feline) and then aspiration pneumonia. I dread losing the other two, but I know I wouldn’t be the same without them.
I’m with you in your mourning, ugly crying and all. And now I’m going to go home and look at pictures of Otis, and remember all the joy (and the occasional frustration) he brought into my life.
An unsolicited word of advice, so feel free to ignore it: don’t feel you have to immediately get another pet to fill the void. If you want to, that’s great, and I’m sure you’ll find a wonderful loving animal to grace your life. But although many people will tell you it’s just the way to get over your loss, you may want some time to remember and to heal.
Grace and peace to you. And thanks for giving a dog love, a home and family, dignity, and the best care anyone could ask.
Sympathy and hugs to you and your kids. Pets are integral parts of our families and it’s always hard to face that loss.
i’m so sad reading about your loss. pets bring us such joy without asking for anything in return. my deepest sympathies to you and your family. may you find some comfort in memories of the times you spent with Lillian.
I’m glad you wrote it down and shared it with us. That was a very lovely post.
I’m so very sorry for your loss. We’ve been living simultaneous dog cancer stories. And similarly, on Thursday we had to say our final goodbyes to Riley. I pity those who don’t understand the joy that our dogs can be. Then again, it touches me that some have not been able to call and talk in person because Riley’s loss has touched them too. I’m sure it’s the same with you and Lilian. There are some big paw prints to be filled with your loss… hugs to you and your family.
That was a beautifully written tribute for a very beautiful creature. You picked a gorgeous picture to add to the prose. I’m sorry for your loss.
Dogs, they aren’t dogs, they are family. They love us unconditionally, no judgement, they make us laugh and cry. Their souls get into our hearts and never leave. Lil will be with you all forever. I’m so glad she was out to party with us, she got into my heart that night.
I am so sorry for the loss. Three weeks ago, we had to do the same thing to our 10 year old chocolate lab, Harley. He had cancer as well. Very hard to lose a member of the family. He was my first child…now my real first child continues to ask for him. My heart breaks for and with you.
I am so sorry for the loss. Three weeks ago, we had to do the same thing to our 10 year old chocolate lab, Harley. He had cancer as well. Very hard to lose a member of the family. He was my first child…now my real first child continues to ask for him. My heart breaks for and with you!
Oh darlin’… I hear you. More than you know!!! If you can cope, visit me and my Cosmo… it’s been so hard seeing Ree’s Dane over the past two days – he looks so like my pooch it hurts.
Hugs
BB
[...] and yes, I am a few pounds heavier but every time I am weak I remember how cancer took away one of my dearest friends. I recall the day I chose to break the nasty habit and I think, “Yes, I can.” One day [...]
[...] were in here while I stayed in Virginia and did the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do – put Lillian to sleep. Tomorrow it will be one year to the day that she died. Sometimes, I get choked up because I feel [...]