Goodbyes

We said our final goodbyes to the poodle pup today in a way that I was hoping to avoid. At 1pm the vet administered a lethal dose of anaesthetic and as I stroked his fluffy white coat, murmuring over and over again ‘good boy’, I felt him take his last breath.

It was so very hard.

I’ve known this day would come eventually and as he got older and more unsteady on his feet, I steeled myself that sooner, rather than later, we would have to make the agonizing decision, but any time to have to put your baby down is way too soon in my books.

The vet came to our house and Jacque was home in familiar surroundings, with his chewed up froggie toy beside him. It was amazingly quick and other than a few problems finding a vein due to his age and Jacque to the very end being particular with anyone doing anything near his legs, I hope he wasn’t too traumatized. As the needle went in Master was holding his head and a few seconds later Jacque was drifting off to sleep.

Late last week he got a small infection on the back of his tail and almost overnight it bloomed into a toxic abscess. The circulation had stopped in the end of his tail and the vet said the only thing to do would be to amputate.The infection was slowly leaching into his blood stream and he wasn’t eating and could barely get up. Considering his age, we thought putting him to sleep would be the best thing.

I was supposed to go to work today, and until 7:30am when I called my boss to ask for the day off, I had every intention of being out of the house when it happened. I didn’t think I could cope with it. I didn’t want to see him die. I didn’t want to be a part of it. And I didn’t want to see his life-less body after the deed had been done. But I thought about Master. I thought about how Jacque had been his baby for thirteen and a half years and I didn’t want him to go through it alone.

As it turns out, Master held things together a lot better than I did. I was crying for several hours last night, for most of the morning and I sobbed and sobbed from the minute the vet walked in the door. Master was comforting me, not the other way around and other than Master pouring himself a glass of whiskey (and he only drinks like that when he’s really shaken up) he was strong.

I’ve never seen anyone die before. Someone dead, yes, someone die, no. When I attended my ex-hubby’s grandmother’s funeral, I couldn’t bring myself to touch her. It’s a part of Japanese customs that you ‘confirm’ that someone is dead by touching their face. I wasn’t sure whether I’d be able to touch Jacque after he’d passed, but it was just like he was asleep – warm, fluffy and I stroked and kissed him.

Then Master and the vet carried him out of the house on a stretcher and the vet took him to be cremated. We’ll get his ashes back in a few days in a lovely wooden box with his name engraved on it. I can’t stop thinking about him though and I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I feel bad about every time I yelled at him or got annoyed by him. He was a fantastic dog, with such a great personality and he couldn’t of made me happier.

I miss him. His absence is palpable. I keep expecting to hear his nails on the tiles as he walks around the kitchen or feel his fluffy white head nuzzling up under my arm as I type. It’s quiet. So quiet. Tomorrow when I get home from work, I’ll be expecting to see him at the door, all excited and running around.

But he won’t be there.

Rest in peace my fluffy pup. We miss you and love you.

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19 thoughts on “Goodbyes

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  1. Jacque would have loved that blog to him, he was a very special dog and a very unique character, although he was originally bought as a companion dog for Delores after Harry’s death, he quickly became a part of the household and was a spoilt boy all his life and could do no wrong in my eyes,even forgave him for the 12 chicken murders he committed, l know l will miss him and thank you for staying home and being there for him and me when we needed you.

  2. I think it is absolutely, incredibly wonderful that you were able to have the vet come to your home.

    While I KNOW there are times it is simply more compassionate to put an animal down, I have always struggled deeply with the idea of making an animal’s last moments on Earth be a traumatic trip to the vet’s office. My dog doesn’t like the vet. She hates it. But in two months she’ll be 17 years old and I KNOW her time here isn’t that much longer. And I just… I can’t see myself being able to bring her somewhere that I know causes her anxiety, fear, and stress and have that be her last experience in life.

    So that is just amazing. (And what a cool vet!)

    I’m so sorry for you, and for your Master. You have all my best and brightest energy headed your way. And I can’t help but think – what a great gift it was for that doggie to have you guys as his companions and caretakers.

    ~Chloe

  3. I’m sure it meant a lot to both of them that you were there, as hard as it was.

    It’s so hard to lose our best friends.

    Rest in peace, Jacque.

  4. The loss of a loved one is hard, doubly so when you have to make the final decision for them.

    I have no doubt that in his last minutes, your poodle pup was at peace and knew he was loved. To be able to go quietly at home, surrounded by family, must have been a comfort to him.

    You’ll be in my thoughts.

  5. We’ve been there, done that too, of course. having the vet come to your house is what we did for our German Shepherd, and would recommend it for anyone with a large dog, or one traumatized by the vet’s office.

    I am so sorry for your loss. No matter how old they are, you can never have them long enough.

    I recently wrote about one of our late pups. Husband could not read the whole thing at one go. It made him cry, even though he knew how it ended, and I had used the mildest possible words to describe the end.

    Warm hugs to you both,
    Hermione

  6. Oh my god, I’m so sorry. My condolences, kitten and M. 😦
    Your compassion and love was woven through this post. Jacque got the send-off he deserved.

  7. my sincere thoughts and prayers are with you both.. i am so very sorry about Jacque..im sure he felt your love and closeness at the end. he sounds like a wonderful companion and im sure he is in doggy Heaven right now running and playing..
    warmest tight hugs,
    Hisflower

  8. Loosing a pet is never easy, the ones that are with us the longest are the ones the we morn the most.

    Many condolences.
    Rarius

  9. I wouldn’t know, as I’ve never had to really deal with death. It’s not because nobody I’ve known has ever died, but because I never found out any of them were dead until several years after the fact. Never been to a funeral, never seen a body, never learned what became of their remains, and usually it’s been so long that I barely miss them anymore anyway – so all that knowing they’re dead does for me is confirm that they’re *really* not a part of my life anymore.

    Right now, I wouldn’t be surprised to find my father is dead. Nobody seems to know or want to say where the hell he is. But if so, I probably won’t find this out for a very long time, after I’ve already long since moved on.

  10. I’ll preface my comments by saying that I have been a lurker on your blog for some time. I’ve seen the pics you posted of your puppy. He was a beautiful dog. It sounds cliche, I fear, but I know what you’re going through. My beloved Westiie died in October. He was 12 1/2 and was with me through some of the most important years of my life. To this day I miss him terribly, and love him more than ever. I do not believe that we can ever replace a pet, we can only move on. Remember him in your dreams, he will visit you there so long as you keep him in your thoughts. My best wishes to you and your master in this hard time, rest in peace Jacque.

  11. I really feel for you. My condolances to you and your Master. It’s so hard. I know. He looked like the most wonderful dog and it certainly appeared that he had a wonderful life with you. Take comfort in that.

    xxx lots of love,

    milla

  12. I’m so sorry to hear you lost your pup. I lost mine 3 years ago and still miss him but find such joy in reminiscing over all the funny and sweet things he did. You’ll get there too 🙂
    Many comforting hugs to both you and your Master.

  13. I just wanted to say that I am sorry for your loss. It is never easy losing a pet. I know that the decision was difficult, but at least the pup is at peace now. Hugs to both you and your Master.

  14. It’s never easy to let them go.

    It’s coming up two years since we had to let our Westie go. She was my baby. I still miss her. And yes, I can still “hear” her coming upstairs at bedtime, nails and collar embellishments hitting each step as she came upstairs.

    Now she, also cremated and in a beautiful carved wooden box, has a place of honour in our livingrroom with a westie statue on top. I couldn’t let her go. Maybe I’m weird but I like that she is still “with” me.

    It was months before I could stop crying when I thought about her, saw pics, or even found westie stuffies in stores.

    I’m so sorry to hear of your loss and I send you both many many hugs. If you haven’t heard about the Rainbow Bridge, please google it…I hope it brings you some comfort as it did for me.

    xo Andromeda

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