Nikki

You, little pup, will be terribly missed.

Sharing some cuddles with a sleepy dog before I went to camp last week.

My pup had to be put down on Monday, and it really surprised me how affected I was by this.

I consider myself a strong person--one that has much more to conquer and survive in life-- but a person that has survived and conquered deaths of close family and friends, intentionally making the choice survive and seek happiness.

Nikki (our 14 year old pup) had a stroke last Friday night and went from a ball chasing, attention loving dog, into a zoned out zombie-pup who lacked the function in her back left leg. It broke my heart to see her trying to move and falling, and bumping into things.

Seeing a person, or pet that I love compromised of the energy they normally posses breaks my heart.

I can think of all the clichés that exist and keep repeating them in my grieving mantra—she’s better off now, she’s not in pain, it’s a blessing that she deteriorated fast and didn’t have to be in pain for long, she lived 14 long years, we loved her… I hope she knew that.

I know the pain will settle and positive thoughts will rise to the surface sometime. My boyfriend soothes me quoting “this, too, shall pass” and telling me, “luckily, emotions wear off”. I feel relief right now in knowing that eventually I will feel more joy in Nikki’s life than sadness. But right now I feel sad.

I think the root of my sadness is in the fact that Nikki grew up with us. My mom brought her home as a surprise (to my sister, myself, and my dad!) when I was in grade 4. As a 10 year old having a little blond pup was, well… the [dog’s] pajamas’ (if you will.) We treated her like our own baby: cuddling with her, playing fetch with her, singing songs especially written for her.

Around the time her dog years took her into her 20’s, my sister and I entered our teenage-hood. The time in life that we were worried more about being ‘cool’ than being responsible dog owners. Naturally, my parents were wonderful and picked up the slack, but even though I slacking off on the nitty gritty of it…ohh I hope she knew I still cared.

As the years passed, and a dog aged, we grew up, moved out of the house—returning home to a squealing excited pup on our trips home from university. She brought so much joy into the visits, and I was not nearly responsible enough for her basic needs such as walks, grooming, picking up the poop (my parents did this as we grew up). I regret this.

I’ve reflected a bit this week, upon her death, that people (and pets) mean so much to us. I regret not having more intention through the process during the good and bad, the fun and inconvenient times and not just sloughing those off on others.

After the grieving passes, this realization will stay with me.

I will miss you, little dog.