Your Pet Loss Diaries
'Michelle & Niksa'
Niksa was born on July 4th 2001 a Boxer Heeler mix.
When did you lose Niksa?
At which stage of pet loss grief do you feel you are currently at?
Going back and forth between bargaining, anger, depression, and acceptance.
Michelle and Niksa's so far
We got Niksa in July of 2001. He was living under a car in a guys back yard that wasn't really taking care of the dogs. My cousin had got one from the litter, and that is how we found Niksa. We brought him home to our apartment where we weren't allowed to have dogs. We hid him out for several weeks. He was only about 4 weeks old at the time, so he was still very small, and had to be bottle fed. The first day we brought him home we took him to my parents, where he had his first bath. He never like baths from that time forward. We really at the time had no business getting a dog, but we fell in love with him, and I wanted a Boxer.
We soon found a place to move that allowed dogs, and that is where Niksa spent the first few years of his life. He was a very rowdy puppy, and we didn't spend near as much time with him as we should have. We didn't work on training, and my then boyfriend, now husband and I were very divided on training on discipline at the time. We were still young, and dumb. Niksa kept getting out of the yard, and getting into trouble. So we got him a friend Sweet Pea our Jack Russell when Niksa was about 2 years old. He was very happy to have a friend. He also spent time with my parents dogs Happy and Lucky.
Happy was parents boxer who also passed away shortly before Niksa. Niksa and Happy started fighting, and with each fight it seemed to get worse, so they could no longer spend time together. But he had Sweet Pea, and they were best friends, and it helped him mellow out a bit.
My husband and I got married when Niksa was about 1 years old. Niksa was my baby, and always will be. He was my first dog, and gave me some the best 9 years of my life. He endured a lot more then he should have. It took so long for my husband and I to get on the same page, and to pull our heads out of our asses, but Niksa was very forgiving of that. He ws always smiling to show how happy he was. He loved going to the lake, and he loved to run and play. He also loved being with us. He was very free with his kisses, and I miss those big kisses so much.
When he was about 7 years old he started limping, and was told it was arthritis. Never thought to look for soemthing else. About 6 weeks before he passed, he was hit by a car, got up almost like nothing happened. That was one of the wort days of my life. We went camping the weekend before he lost movement in his hind legs, that was one of the best weekends of my life, and I am so glad we did it. He was running around like a puppy, chasing the quad, and exploring the mountains. I never dreamed that 3 weeks later we would be having to put him to sleep.
We took him to the vet because one of his hind legs wasn't working at all, and the other one seemed to be getting weak. That vet told us it was cancer, before even knowing. We insisted on xrays, and that is when we discovered he had a spinal disease, that had caused a pinch nerve. Surgery was an option, but very expensive, and we would have to travel 5 hours just to get the MRI to determine if surgery could fix it. We could not afford the surgery, and I wanted a second opinion. We were also told he had a 50/50 chance of it working itself out.
I started looking into other nearby vets, found one an hour away that did acupuncture, hell I was willing to try anything. We got an appointment that same week a couple days after the diagnoses. We were also looking into getting him a wheelchair. On the day of the appointment we also found someone who had a chair that fit him, and they let us borrow it. It looked like everything was coming together even though I knew deep down he was already begining to get worse.
The following Monday I was calling the vet telling him the new symptoms... no control over his bowels, peeing on himself, and complete loss of his back legs. The vet told me that even surgery at this point would not be a guarantee. Pretty much told me that putting him down would be best. I already knew this deep down, but was still holding on to the fact he might be walking when I get home. Well the next day I made the appointment.
That day was the worst day of my life so far. He was completely aware of where he was, he could still eat, give, kisses, and show fear. I held him in my arms trying to comfort him, and until he took his last breath. As hard as it was somewhere deep inside me I know it was the right thing. I had already lost my dog before that day. Right now I still have my what if moments, somedays I can accept it. Some days I am angry as hell at the guy who hit him with his car, because maybe just maybe he'd still be here today.
I miss my dog and I just want him back, I'd give anything to hug him again.
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