Well let me first start off with thanks to you who shared this site. It is helping me with my very recent loss in understanding that what I'm feeling is natural.
My husband and I can not have children so we decided to start a family and let our children be puppies. I rescued a very strange adorable 9 year old long haired chihuahua 7 years ago. He had a history of seizures but he was healthy besides that.
We loved him from the very first moment he ran under our feet in the meeting room. My husband immediately looked at the woman and quite commically asked "what in the world is that?". You could not tell this little man was a chihuahua because he was nothing but hair. The lady won my husband right over when she told us his name was BB King. He had been a Marine's companion his whole life but he was called out to the war in Iraq. He never returned home God Bless him. The care taker released his dog to the local pound that had a hard time adopting him out because of his "advanced" age. Well we immediately knew that he would be ours.
We had an amazing 7 years with him. He even screamed Mama Mama every time I left for work. So I would always come back in and give him another kiss before heading out. He was my constant companion and I looked forward to coming home to him each night.
A couple of weeks ago his very rare seizures started coming every few hours. I rushed him to the hospital where they put him on phenobarbital. It was downhill from there. His seizures became worse and he started to scream during them. We had him at the vet every other day for steroid shots and evaulations. The vet never brought up euthanasia even once. He kept putting him on different diets and steriods each time.
My husband told me that he didn't want BB to continue having to go through all this because he is 16 years old and it was so hard on his body. He started to become lethargic and wobbly. Sometimes he refused to walk at all. Everyone was telling me that "it was time".
I called the vet and was expecting him to side with me about keeping him on treatment because it had only been a week and a half since he had started his phenobarbital and the vet had never mentioned it being "his time". I explained to the vet what all was going on and how others were telling me that he needed to be put down. The vet went silent and then said the words I had been dreading. It was best to put him out of his misery.
We took him the next day and it was the hardest day I have ever experienced. This was not my DOG he was my son. I could not believe what I was doing. I was crying and holding him and I kept screaming in my head to take him and walk out. My husband was there crying and holding him and saying goodbye. All I could do was watch him hand my son to the vet.
They anaesthetised him first so that we could hold him for a bit before the final shot. He screamed when they gave him the sleeping shot and it made me break down. I held him so tight until he was asleep. My mind and body where screaming for me to just take him back home and let the sleeping shot wear off. But I didn't. I stayed right there and watched the vet give the pink shot to my sleeping son. I felt a part of me go with him. We told the doctor that we wanted him cremated so that we could bring him home.
It has been 4 days and I feel so empty without my BB. We just got his remains back yesterday.. It has been so hard to accept that he is gone. I feel guilty that I didn't give the medicine more time to work. I miss him so much that I cry every time I'm alone. I have everyone in my life telling me that I can't be depressed over this. It's not normal that I cry every night. I just want to yell at them and tell them to leave me alone.
Last night I waited till my husband went to sleep to do what I had been needing to do the entire evening. I went over to his beautiful urn picked it up and hugged him as hard as I could. I cried so hard that I felt my my heart would stop. I still don't know how I'm going to get through this but reading the stages I'm hoping I can actually start to be happy and whole again one day.
Here is a poem I wrote two days after I put my son down:
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