My 15-year-old lab mix passed away on 28 November 2022.
My senior dog, the first dog I ever adopted, passed away yesterday. Even though I tried to mentally prepare for his passing, it is difficult to focus or concentrate on anything other than my other dog.
In case it's helpful, below are the topics covered in this post:
Why Am I Writing About This?
I treat this website as my public journal/diary. I write about my thoughts and experiences about a variety of topics including my dogs.
Over the past two years, this website grew to become a way I personally de-stress. I wrote about regrets and fears to manage my emotions and share my story with others interested in what I had to say.
With my senior dog's passing last night, I did not want to write anything today. I cannot focus or concentrate on anything except my small dog's well-being. I wanted to skip writing for once and focus on myself, my Dad, and my small dog, Rascal.
However, I decided to write something about my senior dog's passing to hopefully better manage my emotions.
NOTE: I wrote this blog post like I would write an entry in my private journal/diary. I wanted to get some things off my chest and reflect on yesterday's event.
There may be grammatical and/or spelling errors, something that would exist in my informal, handwritten private entries. My apologies if my story gets confusing at any point.
A Little About My Senior Dog
I wrote about my senior dog, Shadow, a few times over the past couple years on this website. My second ever blog post was an introduction to my dogs.
Shadow was a male lab/heeler mix. His birthday was 28 December 2006 according to his adoption paperwork. His "gotcha" date was 28 February 2007. His passing date was 28 November 2022.
Shadow was the perfect first dog for a first-time dog owner with a phobia of dogs. As an introvert with social anxiety, he immediately became my best friend, companion, and fur-baby.
We did a lot together. As I described him while creating my household in The Sims 4, Shadow was loyal, friendly, and a couch potato. I forgot to mention then was that Shadow was intelligent.
Shadow loved me, cared for me as best he could, worried about me, kept me company, and made me laugh.
I could go on-and-on about Shadow, but this post is about his passing. Fortunately, I have written about Shadow several times and I have many more stories I could tell another day.
A Rushed Appointment
Yesterday after running errands with my dogs and Dad, I called to schedule an appointment for my dogs. Both dogs, Shadow and Rascal, were due for their Bordetella. Rascal was overdue for nail trim. Shadow recently sustained an eye injury.
My dogs and I stayed with my Mom for Thanksgiving. On Saturday, Shadow endured an eye injury. I do not know how it happened, but I initially guessed it was due to the strong winds. I figured he caught a hard foreign object in his left eye while outside that afternoon.
I washed his eyes every hour or two with distilled water. I contemplated rushing him to an emergency vet clinic but chose not to since the injury did not appear to bother him or cause pain.
I knew there was a risk of an infection and intended to schedule a joint appointment for my dogs. While on the phone, the lady on the line initially told me Thursday at 3:30 PM was available for both dogs.
I declined a drop-off offer stating that I was uncomfortable being away from my senior dog. She put me on hold and returned a minute later stating that the doctor cleared his schedule to see them both at 4:30 that afternoon.
I consulted with my Dad who first said no because we did not have the money. Dad has offered to care for the dogs financially, but he has not received his retirement income yet. I had the money and insisted that checking Shadow's eye sooner than later was important.
I accepted the 4:30 PM appointment. Apparently while I was consulting with my Dad, the doctor suggested we show up at 4:00 PM if possible. I agreed. I was grateful they were willing to see my dogs on such short notice to ensure that Shadow's eye was not infected.
The call ended at 3:10 PM. Shadow did not potty in the backyard and I figured he would go potty at the clinic. The dogs and I left the house at 3:30 PM for a short ten-minute drive so they could walk a bit before heading in for the appointment.
The Hour Before His Passing
I am not mentally stable or emotionally strong enough to discuss my baby's passing, but I will do my best to write something cohesive. My apologies again if nothing makes sense after this sentence.
Shadow had challenges as a senior dog, but he was quite active despite his mobility and joint issues.
Earlier in the day, life was normal. Shadow went on his usual walk around the house, played with Rascal, hopped like a bunny when he was excited to see me, watched and spoke to the TV, ate his lunch, went for a couple joy rides in the SUV, and snacked on some of his favorite treats. Everything was normal.
Shadow was hesitant to get out of the SUV. A couple vet techs came to assist us, but Shadow had a stroke in the parking lot (he also had a stroke last September). When we got him and Rascal into the exam room, they held off on seeing Shadow (Rascal was already taken care of) to give Shadow a chance to calm down and relax.
Unfortunately, Shadow started hyperventilating. Normally, Shadow did well with vet visits. I always assumed he was alright with appointments because Rascal and I were always with him. We did not do drop-off appointments.
Shadow, Rascal, and I laid on the floor (I did not care about filth or germs at that point) cuddling and watching Sherpa, one of Shadow's favorite YouTube channels, on my cell phone. At one point, Shadow seemed to laugh while watching Sherpa howl. He ate one of many Milkbone treats the doctor gave him.
But then his condition worsened rapidly.
The doctor and a vet tech were evaluating Shadow. Shadow had a seizure. The doctor said it was possible (and common in senior dogs) that Shadow had cerebral embolism that triggered both strokes (the one that day and the one back in September) and seizure.
I told the doctor that if this night was Shadow's last, I believed my Dad would want to be with him to say any final words. The doctor said he was going to give Shadow pain killers so I could take him home. Forget about the eye. Either Shadow would recover in a couple days as he did last September, or my Dad would at least have an opportunity to see Shadow one last time.
The doctor and vet tech left the room for a moment. I held Shadow in my arms while Rascal stood by my side.
When the vet tech arrived, we noticed Shadow stopped moving. She rushed out to get the doctor. She returned with him, and the doctor checked on Shadow.
The doctor said Shadow was brain dead. His heartbeat was faint and slowing.
Shadow died in my arms.
Sadness and Guilt
Although I have attempted to mentally prepare for this day, especially since doctors from other vet clinics thought Shadow would pass after he turned ten-years-old, I struggled to remain calm. No, I did not throw a grownup tantrum and start screaming, but I did cry. I cried a lot. I am still crying twenty-four hours later.
They let me stay as long as I wanted with Shadow's body. The doctor and vet tech also kept me company for much of that time after hours. I am grateful for their patience and understanding as I struggled to think clearly and focus.
At one point, I asked the vet tech if staying was bad for Rascal's mental health. I heard the doctor chuckle a little. I guess not a lot of people ask about what is best for their other dog during another dog's death.
The doctor assured me that Rascal was fortunate for being present during Shadow's passing. So many dogs remain at home and wonder where their friend has gone. At least Rascal knew what happened as he was (sadly) also a witness of Shadow's passing.
I turned to look at Rascal to see tears flowing from his eyes. His head was low, and his ears laid flat. It was obvious he was also mourning, but that was not unexpected of a dog who lost one of his best friends.
We stayed for an hour as I continued holding Shadow in one arm and Rascal in the other. I was devastated to lose my first best friend, companion, and fur-baby.
I especially felt guilty for his death. What if I listened to my Dad and waited for the Thursday appointment? Would Shadow have lived another day or two?
Was the stress and anxiety of going to the vet clinic what cause his stroke that led to his death? Should I have not worried about his eye injury and waited a few more days before speaking with the doctor about it?
Did Shadow resent me for taking him to the vet clinic when he just wanted to lay on the couch and watch TV? Did I give him reason to believe I suddenly hated him, and he lost his will to live?
Maybe you believe the questions are dumb, but those are the questions that ran through my head all last night.
Before I left, I kissed Shadow one last time. I looked at his right eye and noticed a scar like the one that developed on his left eye last Saturday. I should have asked the doctor about it, but it did not cross my mind at the time. I already felt guilty for leaving his body behind me.
When I carried Rascal and Shadow's belongings out of the building, I worried about how Dad would handle the news. Dad has PTSD and Shadow helped him get through a severe depressed phase. I felt awful because I asked Dad to go with us to the appointment and did not push further when he suggested that he stayed at home.
When we got home, Dad met us in the garage ready to set up Shadow's ramp to exit the SUV. I could not speak at first. I shook my head while Dad asked, "What? What is it?"
I soon composed myself and told him that Shadow did not make it. Dad cried and held me in his arms. He then picked Rascal up and held him tightly.
We spent the night together in the living room. I told Dad every little detail I remembered about that night's event. I told him how I felt guilty for Shadow's death. He reassured me, as the doctor did, that Shadow lived a full, happy life. Shadow's passing was inevitable, which I was aware of for years, and it just happened to be that day.
There were a few times when Rascal whined. He also cried, but only when I was not crying. I wiped his tears and kissed him frequently last night.
At one point, Dad took Rascal outside to potty. Apparently, Rascal froze in place while tears streamed from his eyes. Dad had to carry Rascal out to the grass and give him words of encouragement.
Rascal held me tight and refused to leave my side.
The Day After
I did not sleep until after 5:30 AM today. Somehow, I managed to fall asleep with Rascal laying on my chest and stomach. I woke up before 8:00 AM.
I spent much of the morning and early afternoon thinking about all the things I miss about Shadow. Shadow was not by my side when I woke. Shadow did not ask for the TV to be turned on. Shadow did not follow me around the house to keep me company. Shadow was not there to make me laugh knowing I was sad.
But Rascal did everything Shadow normally did for me. Rascal was by my side when I woke. Rascal did ask for the TV to be turned on. Rascal followed me around the house to keep me company. Rascal was there to make me laugh knowing I was sad.
Rascal changed a little. Little noises have not phased him like usual. He periodically watched TV which he rarely did. He sometimes acted goofy to make me laugh which he also never did. These were the things Shadow normally did daily. Not Rascal.
Most importantly, Rascal has not left my side. Before today, Rascal would sometimes hangout in Dad's room, I guess because Shadow was always with me.
Dad noticed this and said Shadow gave Rascal orders to care for me. I choose to believe this to be true, especially since Rascal is behaving more like Shadow always did.
We went out to take care of errands. I forgot to pay for Rascal's nail trim and Bordetella, so we stopped by the vet clinic. Dad offered to go inside and pay. I am grateful he did because I lost it. I started sobbing.
Rascal jumped onto my lap and comforted me until Dad returned. We sat in the parking lot until my eyes and mind cleared enough for me to drive. Fortunately, Rascal did not appear to have a reaction to revisiting the vet clinic where Shadow died. He also did not show signs of searching for Shadow before Dad returned to us.
We continued some routine things for Rascal like going to Starbucks for a Pup Cup and feeding him his meal at the usual time.
I cried less this afternoon and decided to write this blog post after all. I admit that I feel a little better emotionally not that I reflected on yesterday.
However, I took a break from writing at around 4:00 PM when I would normally give Shadow his Galliprant medication. I turned off the alarm earlier this morning, but my internal clock remembered it was medicine time anyway.
I started sobbing again. Rascal attempted to calm me by licking and holding my hand. I carried Rascal and went to my Dad for comfort.
I am very grateful to have a wonderful Dad and dog in my life. I also have yet to mention how grateful I am for my friends.
My friends and I normally text. They learned about Shadow's passing before Dad did because I wanted to tell him in person and not over the phone.
I never call my friends. I never want to burden them. But last night I asked if I could call, and they both agreed. I called them both. I asked for their opinion about something, but I did not actually need it. I just wanted to hear their voices.
I found comfort in hearing my friends' sweet, pleasant voices. Their kind and supportive words, while I do not remember anything they said, relaxed me enough to drive home safely before I broke the news to my Dad.
Mom does not know yet. I wanted to call her, but Dad insisted I tell her in person. Mom always spoke about dogs just being dogs, but he believes that she secretly sees my dogs as a member of the family. Dad believes Mom would take the news harder than he did and I should be there for her as she mourned.
I am going to wait a few days before going to Mom's house. Maybe Rascal and I will go this weekend for a night or two. Mom does not like unexpected visits, but Dad believes she will be alright with this weekend's trip.
Staying at Mom's house without Shadow will be a first in fifteen years. I wonder how Rascal will handle being the only dog at Mom's house for once? I will know for sure in a few days time.
What's Next?
It has been twenty years since my Lola ("grandma" in Tagalog) passed away from lung cancer. I have not lost anyone very close to my heart since then.
I do not know how long I will mourn for Shadow, but I have the support of Rascal, my Dad, and my friends to help me through this.
My focus is on Rascal who has never been a solo dog. Will he be alright being an only dog, or would he benefit from having another dog friend in our family? I do not know what is best for him now or in the coming weeks and months.
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Thanks, and have a great day!
Simply Jelly Jam
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