Doggone grief, pt 1: when your buddy is gone
It's been a week. A week without George and we are all very sad.
While it's been enlightening watching my own (sometimes random) responses to grief, it's easier to focus on Mac, the pup left behind, to make sure he's coping.
Let's back up. Undoubtedly, Mac knew George was sick before us humans with our limited sense of smell. A little over a year ago, George was diagnosed with his first of two UTI's (early symptoms of Cushing's). We finally figured out what was going on just before Easter, and late this past summer George started his slow decline. Around that time, while sitting next to George on the couch, I noticed Mac watching a sleeping George with super anxious eyes. Lemme tell you, this about killed me.
By the middle of winter, however, it seemed like he couldn't care less. Mac frequently ran over George, sometimes knocking him down, tried eating George's food, and constantly stole George's new Christmas toy. Of course, George was too sick to play with it, but so not the point dude.
Mac was also constantly putting his head between my hand and George, wanting literally all of the attention. This attitude lasted right up through George's last evening with us - George relaxing on my lap while Mac begged for petting.
The day before he died, George had gotten up to pee on the kitchen floor (a regular occurrence since summer), except this time he fell down and couldn't get up. Nic came home to Mac frantically guarding a pee-soaked George, both desperate for rescue.
From the beginning of all this, I didn't want George to be sick and then just disappear from Mac's life. Consequently, we researched in-home euthanasia, which I still recommend - no matter how kind the vet and techs were (and they were extremely kind), George was still uncomfortable and upset being in the office. For the sake of giving Mac a chance to say goodbye, we brought George home with us before burial.
When Mac sniffed George's body, he started shaking. A lot. He was so upset we worried we'd made a terrible mistake. After a few minutes of comforting, Mac went and found George's toy (the one we'd been taking away from him since Christmas) and started playing with it in the living room. A brilliant example of coping by embracing the positive in a situation.
When Nic came home after work the day after George died, he found Mac curled up in George's much too small dog bed. For the next few days, Mac didn't eat much and didn't want to get up in the mornings. As our ultra-high energy dog, it's very obvious when he slowed down, especially on walks.
Unfortunately, there's no way to look into Mac's mind to see if he sometimes looks around thinking "Wait, where did George wander off to?" before remembering he's gone, like we do, but it isn't difficult to imagine. Our biggest pet is sad, and we have no idea how to help.
When Mac's equivalent of a doggy cousin visited on a few days later, he was overly excited to see her, played much too rough, and was extraordinarily possessive of all the toys. But it was wonderful to see him get some dog time. Mac hasn't really been alone since we got him, George was usually there.
We're considering re-enrolling Mac in doggy day care to help with this part of his loneliness. What I'm trying to say is, this has been difficult for all of us, maybe Mac most of all.
While it's been enlightening watching my own (sometimes random) responses to grief, it's easier to focus on Mac, the pup left behind, to make sure he's coping.
Let's back up. Undoubtedly, Mac knew George was sick before us humans with our limited sense of smell. A little over a year ago, George was diagnosed with his first of two UTI's (early symptoms of Cushing's). We finally figured out what was going on just before Easter, and late this past summer George started his slow decline. Around that time, while sitting next to George on the couch, I noticed Mac watching a sleeping George with super anxious eyes. Lemme tell you, this about killed me.
By the middle of winter, however, it seemed like he couldn't care less. Mac frequently ran over George, sometimes knocking him down, tried eating George's food, and constantly stole George's new Christmas toy. Of course, George was too sick to play with it, but so not the point dude.
Mac was also constantly putting his head between my hand and George, wanting literally all of the attention. This attitude lasted right up through George's last evening with us - George relaxing on my lap while Mac begged for petting.
The day before he died, George had gotten up to pee on the kitchen floor (a regular occurrence since summer), except this time he fell down and couldn't get up. Nic came home to Mac frantically guarding a pee-soaked George, both desperate for rescue.
From the beginning of all this, I didn't want George to be sick and then just disappear from Mac's life. Consequently, we researched in-home euthanasia, which I still recommend - no matter how kind the vet and techs were (and they were extremely kind), George was still uncomfortable and upset being in the office. For the sake of giving Mac a chance to say goodbye, we brought George home with us before burial.
When Mac sniffed George's body, he started shaking. A lot. He was so upset we worried we'd made a terrible mistake. After a few minutes of comforting, Mac went and found George's toy (the one we'd been taking away from him since Christmas) and started playing with it in the living room. A brilliant example of coping by embracing the positive in a situation.
When Nic came home after work the day after George died, he found Mac curled up in George's much too small dog bed. For the next few days, Mac didn't eat much and didn't want to get up in the mornings. As our ultra-high energy dog, it's very obvious when he slowed down, especially on walks.
Unfortunately, there's no way to look into Mac's mind to see if he sometimes looks around thinking "Wait, where did George wander off to?" before remembering he's gone, like we do, but it isn't difficult to imagine. Our biggest pet is sad, and we have no idea how to help.
When Mac's equivalent of a doggy cousin visited on a few days later, he was overly excited to see her, played much too rough, and was extraordinarily possessive of all the toys. But it was wonderful to see him get some dog time. Mac hasn't really been alone since we got him, George was usually there.
We're considering re-enrolling Mac in doggy day care to help with this part of his loneliness. What I'm trying to say is, this has been difficult for all of us, maybe Mac most of all.
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