Grief Diaries: Surviving Loss of a Pet

By Lynda Cheldelin Fell and Barbara J. Hopkinson

Losing a pet is hard, far harder than many let on. The more you love, the more you grieve, and grieving for a four-legged friend is normal.

Part of the award-winning Grief Diaries series, Surviving Loss of a Pet features the heartwarming stories of sixteen people who share their beloved cats, dogs, and even a ferret, a

• Language: English
• Publisher: AlyBlue Media
• Release date: Oct 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781944328931

Lynda Cheldelin Fell

LYNDA CHELDELIN FELL is an educator, speaker, author of over 30 books including the award-winning Grief Diaries, and founder of the International Grief Institute. Visit www.LyndaFell.com.

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Grief Diaries

SURVIVING LOSS OF A PET

True stories about surviving

pet loss and the power of love

LYNDA CHELDELIN FELL

with

BARBARA J. HOPKINSON

Grief Diaries

Surviving Loss of a Pet – 1st ed.

Lynda Cheldelin Fell/Barbara J. Hopkinson

Grief Diaries www.GriefDiaries.com

Cover Design by AlyBlue Media, LLC

Interior Design by AlyBlue Media LLC

Published by AlyBlue Media, LLC

Copyright © 2017 by AlyBlue Media All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission of the publisher.

ISBN: 978-1-944328-72-6

AlyBlue Media, LLC

Ferndale, WA 98248

www.AlyBlueMedia.com

This book is designed to provide informative narrations to readers. It is sold with the understanding that the writers, authors or publisher is not engaged to render any type of psychological, legal, or any other kind of professional advice. The content is the sole expression and opinion of the authors and writers. No warranties or guarantees are expressed or implied by the choice to include any of the content in this book. Neither the publisher nor the author or writers shall be liable for any physical, psychological, emotional, financial, or commercial damages including but not limited to special, incidental, consequential or other damages. Our views and rights are the same: You are responsible for your own choices, actions and results.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

GRIEF DIARIES

Testimonials

CRITICALLY IMPORTANT... I want to say to Lynda that what you are doing is so critically important. –DR. BERNICE A. KING, Daughter of Dr. Martin Luther King

INSPIRATIONAL... Grief Diaries is the result of heartfelt testimonials from a dedicated and loving group of people. By sharing their stories, the reader will find inspiration and a renewed sense of comfort as they move through their own journey. -CANDACE LIGHTNER, Founder of MADD

DEEPLY INTIMATE... Grief Diaries is a deeply intimate, authentic collection of narratives that speak to the powerful, often ambiguous, and wide spectrum of emotions that arise from loss. I so appreciate the vulnerability and truth embedded in these stories, which honor and bear witness to the many forms of bereavement that arise in the aftermath of death. -DR. ERICA GOLDBLATT HYATT, Chair of Psychology, Bryn Athyn College

BRAVE... The brave individuals who share their truth in this book do it for the benefit of all. CAROLYN COSTIN - Founder, Monte Nido Treatment Centers

VITAL... Grief Diaries gives voice to the thousands who face this painful journey every day. Often alone in their time of need, these stories will play a vital role in surrounding each reader with warmth and comfort as they seek understanding and healing in the aftermath of their own loss. -JENNIFER CLARKE, obstetrical R.N., Perinatal Bereavement Committee at AMITA Health Adventist Medical Center

HOPE AND HEALING... You are a pioneer in this field and you are breaking the trail for others to find hope and healing. -KRISTI SMITH, Bestselling Author & International Speaker

A FORCE...The writers of this project, the Grief Diaries anthology series, are a force to be reckoned with. I’m betting we will be agents of great change.

-MARY LEE ROBINSON, Author and Founder of Set an Extra Plate initiative

MOVING... In Grief Diaries, the stories are not only moving but often provide a rich background for any mourner to find a gem of insight that can be used in coping with loss. Reread each story with pen in hand and you will find many that are just right for you. -DR. LOUIS LAGRAND, Author of Healing Grief, Finding Peace

HEALING... Grief Diaries gives voice to a grief so private, most bear it alone. These diaries can heal hearts and begin to build community and acceptance to speak the unspeakable. Share this book with your sisters, mothers, grandmothers and friends who have faced grief. Pour a cup of tea together and know that you are no longer alone. -DIANNA VAGIANOS ARMENTROUT, Poetry Therapist & Author of Walking the Labyrinth of My Heart: A Journey of Pregnancy, Grief and Infant Death

STUNNING... Grief Diaries treats the reader to a rare combination of candor and fragility through the eyes of the bereaved. Delving into the deepest recesses of the heartbroken, the reader easily identifies with the diverse collection of stories and richly colored threads of profound love that create a stunning read full of comfort and hope. -DR. GLORIA HORSLEY, President, Open to Hope Foundation

WONDERFUL...Grief Diaries is a wonderful computation of stories written by the best of experts, the bereaved themselves. Thank you for building awareness about a topic so near and dear to my heart. -DR. HEIDI HORSLEY, Adjunct Professor, School of Social Work, Columbia University, Author, Co-Founder of Open to Hope Organization

SURVIVING LOSS OF A PET

Dedication

In loving memory

of our pets

LYNDA CHELDELIN FELL

Preface

Pets. They’re part of our family. Our love for them is unbridled, and often unexplainable. All through my childhood our small hobby farm was home to a variety of pets including horses, sheep, a cow named Blackie, birds, a pair of school science rats named Salt and Pepper, rabbits, hamsters, and of course many lovable dogs and cats. Although a few of our pets met untimely deaths, most were with us for years. But no matter how or why they died, or how old I was, I grieved deeply.

As an adult with children of my own, one of my beloved pets was a lovely white Persian cat named Precious. I adored her beyond what others would consider sane. Her soft billowing fur and bright blue eyes were reminiscent of a feline movie star perched on a satin pillow. She had a very sweet disposition and an innocent yet comical personality. She was my shadow. She was allowed outside only under supervision so she especially enjoyed when I gardened. The children played while I pulled weeds and pruned flowers, and Precious sunned herself in the warm grass, pouncing on a dragonfly every now and again.

One day I allowed Precious to stay outside with the family while I ran a short errand. While gone, a large dump truck came down the road in front of our home. Precious was near the edge of the yard, and frightened by the noisy truck, she bolted in the wrong direction—out into the road. She didn’t stand a chance.

My family quickly buried Precious before I returned home in an effort to spare me pain. But nothing softened the blow. I was in shock and disbelief. How could this possibly happen in the short time I was away? With tears streaming down my face, I ran to where Precious was buried and dug her from the fresh grave to see for myself. I sat there for hours stroking her soft fur, inconsolable. As the day softened to dusk, I finally relented and allowed her to be reburied. But the tears refused to dry up. I retreated to bed for the next three days.

I share this story with you because although I’ve loved and lost many pets over the years, the depth of my wound from Precious’ untimely death was not understandable to some. Like all my pets, I loved her deeply and without restraint. Isn’t that how it should be?

We’ve since had other cats and dogs over the years, and I’ve loved them equally as fierce. But pets don’t replace one another. I’ve never forgotten the love I held for Precious, and her billowy white fur and bright blue eyes.

Today we live with three dogs and a cat. Each are special in their own way, just as Precious was. And so it goes for those of us who consider pets part of our family. We love them with all our heart, and grieve their death with equal passion. Many of us grieve harder than we let on, lest others think we’re ridiculous or simply can’t understand. This is where Grief Diaries can help.

If you are grieving the loss of a four-legged family member, the following stories are written by people who know exactly how you feel. They hope you’ll find comfort in their words and the under-standing that you aren’t truly alone on the journey. For we walk ahead, behind, and right beside you.

Warm regards,

Lynda Cheldelin Fell

CHAPTER ONE

The Beginning

If there is a heaven, it’s certain our animals are to be there. Their lives become so inter-

woven with our own, it would take more than an archangel to detangle them. -PAM BROWN

History is full of close bonds between people and pets that leave little doubt that pets are intrinsic, devoted members of our family. Perhaps it is this devotion that leads the way to a unique love that inevitably ends in grief. But like any story we must start at the beginning, not the end. In this chapter each writer takes you inside their world and introduces you to the family member who walks on four legs.

*

EMILY BAIRD-LEVINE

Roo, Emily’s 8-year-old border collie dog

died from multiple health problems in 2010

In October 2003, my family had two older dogs: Ari, a border collie, Australian shepherd, malamute mix who was a happy-go-lucky male dog who we had gotten as a puppy, and Loretta, a sweet, dominant, deaf and sight-impaired Australian shepherd who we got from a no-kill shelter in Phoenix when she was approximately eighteen months old. Ari and Loretta got along well, with Ari being Loretta’s ears and Loretta barking orders at Ari. It worked somehow.

Then one cold, dark, and rainy evening, we got a call from our neighbor who had met Ari and Loretta, asking if they were both at home. She said there was a dog in her yard, who backed up to the woods, who looked like our dogs. I assured her that both of our pups were at home, thankfully. I moved on even though I had a tendency to want to rescue all the pups that needed help.

A little while later, the next-door neighbor came over with the same dog the other neighbor had called about. She was the same coloring as our two dogs. He asked if she was ours. I explained that she wasn’t and volunteered to walk the neighborhood with her, asking if she belonged to anyone. I grabbed an extra leash and attached it to the loose collar she was wearing with no tags attached. She was pretty squirmy, not listening well, and obviously young. I walked the neighborhood but no one recognized this dog. I was hesitant to take her into our home because Loretta, our deaf, Australian shepherd didn’t get along well with other dogs besides Ari, and sometimes not even him. Seeing as it was cold and wet outside, I did bring her into the house. She came in, ran upstairs and jumped on our bed. Not so well behaved, I noted. We really needed to keep her and Loretta apart because Loretta could cause trouble. Ari wasn’t happy to have this little whippersnapper in his house, but he wasn’t going to make any trouble.

We gave her some food and water out on the front porch while I made phone calls to the Humane Society and to the Alternative Humane Society in town. We left descriptions, in hopes that her caretaker would call looking for her. She spent the night with a blanket out in the garage because we were concerned that keeping her inside with Ari and Loretta would be problematic.

The next morning I got a call from someone who had contacted the Humane Society about this dog. She informed me that the dog’s name was Pi. She wasn’t her caretaker, but knew of her caretaker. The woman who owned her had found Pi dodging cars on the highway in Montana. She picked her up and drove with her while she was doing speaking engagements between Montana and Washington, for about a month. While doing a speaking engagement in our town, Pi had gotten away and ran approximately three miles to our neighborhood. The woman said that Pi’s caretaker tried to find her for a while, but at this point had already left for the next town where she was scheduled to speak. She really didn’t want the dog back.

The woman on the phone explained that Pi was deaf. Being accustomed to our deaf dog, Loretta, I realized in retrospect that I had instinctively picked up on her deafness the night before as I had been interacting with her as I did with Loretta. Loretta responded to some hand signals and to making direct eye contact while talking to her. This explained a lot of Pi’s behavior, which I started to understand.

I got a call back from the Alternative Humane Society and chatted with them about my situation. I told them that I had two older dogs, one of whom was deaf and dominant and the other happy-go-lucky. I also said that we had a small house with a small yard. I requested that they list Pi as an adoptable dog and we would keep her until a home was found. The volunteer talked to me at length and implied that our house would be a great place for this dog because we had experience with deaf dogs. Oh my! Three dogs and two young children! That sounded overwhelming and crazy to this stay-at-home mom. I was determined to find a good home for this pup. A few days went by with me playing interference between the two female, deaf dogs. I realized that they shouldn’t be right next to each other. The new pup also displayed dominance.

One evening when my husband, Bob, came home, he told me that we had to keep this dog. She is in my heart, he said. This coming from the man who I converted to being a dog person when we first got married, when we acquired our first pup, Ari, before having kids. It appeared crystal clear that we were now caretakers of three dogs. This one would be staying! Well, it was time to give this pup a new name. She had the name Pi for only a month. The four us spent a long time trying to figure out a name and we finally came up with Ruach, a Hebrew word that means wind (apropos of the wet, breezy night she found us) and is also the name attributed to one of the levels of the soul in the Kabbalistic realm. Ruach would be hard for most people to pronounce, so we decided to call her Roo. She was a sweet, sensitive, loving, dedicated dog. She was also dominant, an escape artist, and she didn’t get along well with other dogs except Ari and Loretta. And, not unlike Loretta, she also had an edge about her, even with the other two dogs. We absolutely loved Roo. She kept us all on our toes, and required lots of supervision, exercise, and vigilance to keep her safe and out of trouble. This wasn’t easy most of the time, but so worth it. She brought us all so much joy!

Roo trained Bob for a marathon in 2007. Roo was a fast runner and ran up to seven or so miles at a time with Bob. She could sprint up to thirty-five miles per hour, as seen when she escaped on several occasions and ran onto the busy road behind our house, scaring everyone to death. She was very upset when Bob completed his marathon and wasn’t running as much due to knee problems. She seemed to feel that she was no longer doing the job she was given. She was very bonded and dedicated to Bob. To this day, Bob feels bad for not running her much after the marathon.

Roo, from the time we got her, to the time of her death, had digestive problems. They were never decisively diagnosed, and they amounted to her dying at around age nine. It was very sad to lose her and to watch her suffer in the months and years leading up to that time. I believe she had a good life.

*

SHAUNA COX

Mr. CottonBear, Shauna’s 7-year-old

cat, died from liver cancer in 2016

Mister CottonBear was born in 2008 on a farm in St. Paul, Alberta. Two months after his birth, my husband, Roger, and I moved to St. Paul from Brampton, Ontario. We rented a farmhouse from a lady named Jeanette who often had kittens for giveaway born to her many farm cats. Roger had always wanted an all gray, all white, and all black cat. We already had an all gray cat, PussyBear, and immediately fell in love with this little white furball who Jeanette presented us with. He was the runt of the litter, and when we first met him he was so small he could fit in the palm of my hand! We decided to keep him, and named him Mister CottonBear.

CottonBear was the first pet my husband and I got together as a couple, followed immediately by Riley, our Jack Russell terrier. The two of them, being about the same age, were inseparable as babies. They would roughhouse, with CottonBear as the winner most of the time. He would roll onto his back, while Riley would straddle him. Riley clearly thought he was the winner as he had CottonBear pinned down. Before he knew it, however, CottonBear would wrap his paws around Riley’s back, and his claws would come out, not injuring but surprising Riley into jumping off. CottonBear for the win! At other times, they would curl up next to each other and fall asleep. We enjoyed watching the two of them together; they put an end to the myth that dogs and cats can’t be friends.

Roger and I used to joke that CottonBear was more like a dog than a cat. He would run to me when I whistled, he often lay around on his back and would enjoy short belly rubs, and he loved to lick mine and Roger’s faces. At other times, he would beg us to rub the top of his head by forcefully shoving it into one of our faces. He also, strangely enough, loved wearing what we called his hat. This simply consisted of Roger’s hand on his head. Roger would cup his hand on top of CottonBear’s head and just leave it there while CottonBear closed his eyes and purred away content with life.

I work at a vet clinic and I have heard lots of purring, but CottonBear had the loudest purr I’ve ever heard! I often think that it’s because he was the happiest cat in the world. He was content to do whatever it was we were doing, and to be wherever we were. He was full of love and life.

Within a couple months of having him, the runt of the litter became the biggest of the litter. At his heaviest, he was twenty-seven pounds. He was so fat, his belly would drag along the floor as he moved. To his disappointment, we put him on a diet, and had him eat one of his meals from a Slim Cat ball that he would have to play with and move around to gain access to his food. He lost over ten pounds, but was still a BIG cat. We could stretch him out over four feet, and if you included his tail, he might have been close to five feet in length. I suppose it’s possible that my memories are exaggerating him because he has such a big spot in my heart, but he was definitely a bigger than average cat for having been such a tiny kitten!

Shortly after he turned seven years old, we moved to a new house. CottonBear was obviously stressed out but we figured it was just the adjustment of the new home. He spent days in the basement on top of the freezer, and would run to his food dish as if he was on fire, before returning back to his safe spot on the freezer. On one occasion, he spent an entire weekend in our hall closet. Around this time, I noticed the skin on the back of his neck was bald and raw. I brought him into work where he was diagnosed with an ear infection, and given medication for his ears and a cream for his neck. He started venturing out of the closet or away from the freezer but was still acting off. And then, one weekend, I noticed that his spine was showing on his back, but his belly was huge. I felt his stomach, and it didn’t feel like fat to me. Chills went down my own back, and I decided to bring him into the vet clinic the following day.

I laughed to Alyssa, one of the vets I work with, saying that I figured I was probably worrying for nothing. But then she saw CottonBear, and her face went white, and she became immediately serious, and I knew it was something bad. After an ultrasound and x-rays, Alyssa broke the news that she feared CottonBear had cancer. It was possible that he could die suddenly at any time depending on the type of cancer. She recommended surgery, euthanasia, or taking him home, keeping him on medication and watching him. I called Roger, and we decided to keep an eye on him and start medication to try to get some of the fluid in his abdomen to go down. Alyssa guessed that he had a month or so to live. And so began our last few months with our lovable, giant, white furball of a cat.

*

NANCY EDWARDS

Libby, Nancy’s 18-year-old schnocker dog died from old age in 2014

Abby, Nancy’s 10-year-old boxer, died from cancer in 2017

Both my husband, Randy Zartman, and I grew up with many four-legged family members so it was no surprise when our older daughter, Jennifer, asked for a puppy for her eleventh birthday. We already had Molly, a young boxer, but I enjoyed having several dogs around and jumped at the chance to convince Randy to consent to Jenny’s birthday request. He hesitated briefly, teasing the girls and coercing promises that they would be the sole care providers. Jenny and her seven-year-old sister, Katie, began combing the newspaper for ads of available puppies and it wasn’t long before Jenny narrowed down the choices.

Knowing we wouldn’t leave with empty arms, I gave Jenny parameters for the litter she wanted to