It’s bound to happen. If you welcome a pet into your home and heart, then it will only be a matter of time until you are forced to say goodbye. The connection with our pets often becomes a deeply personal one in which we seek them out for play, for comfort, and companionship. For many, they are not just pets but vital members of the family.
It seems that while we know that to have a pet often means developing a deep attachment, often the depth of grief that we might feel at their loss goes unrecognized. My sharing the story below is with the hope of dispelling the myth that we should not feel such intense emotion while making it ok to allow ourselves to feel whatever it is we feel in the face of such losses. It is not just a dog.
Meeting Booker
We decided that we wanted to adopt a new dog because Pilot (the only dog in the home at the time) needed a friend and mostly because he is not a dog that likes to snuggle. He enjoys attention and will accept all the ear scratches and treats, but whatever his life consisted of before he came to live with us clearly involved some harsh circumstances. Based on the descriptions of various breeds, we decided that we wanted a red golden retriever. We located a breeder in Northern Wisconsin, and on June 23, 2020 we loaded up the plane and flew to Marshfield, Wisconsin to meet our new friend – dubbed Booker T Whiskey Retriever, named for Booker T and the MG’s (famous for “Green Onions“) and Booker T Washington.
Booker was definitely a snuggly and feisty boy. In those early stages of life he had several nicknames: Wunderfloof for when he was calm and snuggly, Vermicious Knid for when he was wild, and “Moose-Cow-Camel-Puma Shark,” which is probably self explanatory.
As you might expect, his puppy years were full of energy and destructiveness – sure was a good thing that he was a cute dog. Yes, he was definitely a COVID puppy and we were instantly in love.
While Booker loved everyone, he was definitely my dog. He usually wanted to be with me and spent a lot of time with me in my home office while I saw patients in the afternoon – though he went to virtual school in the morning. Many of my patients at the time met him as he would jump up on me and stick his face into the camera or stand on the furniture behind me to look over my shoulder. He brought a lot of smiles to everyone’s face.
The picture just below and to the right was taken in October 2021 – it was common and comical for Booker to jump into my office chair when I would get up. He’d give me this derpy look letting me know that he was ready to help me with my next psychotherapy appointment. When not in session if he sensed that I was upset by something he would come to me and try to jump in my lap. This is what earned him the title of Chief Doggo Officer of Crosswinds Center, with his chief duties being to provide comfort to the owner and remind him that he needed to take breaks and take care of himself…. by petting the dog and giving him treats, of course.
The Longest Week
Then it happened. In very late November 2021 on a Monday I noticed that his urine was an odd color. I did not immediately think that much of it because Booker was notorious for eating and chewing things that he was not supposed to (batteries, shoes, various things with chemicals, and even razor blades. Yes… razor blades). But I wanted to watch it. By Thursday that week, I made an appointment for the next morning for him to see his veterinarian whom he had seen just a few months before because the urine continued to be an odd color and he seemed to be losing weight. He had stopped really eating unless it was a treat or human food, and was getting lethargic. That night we took him to the emergency vet because he was very lethargic, but he was never seen because apparently every dog in within 100 miles had managed to choke, poison themselves, or face some other urgent disaster. This and Booker was quite energetic as he jumped up on chairs and barked at other dogs. Sure was not behaving as if anything was wrong. He ate some treats and really seemed unhappy to be there. He had an appointment with his regular vet in about 10 hours, so we took him home.
Friday morning, Booker is met by his regular vet who exclaims, “oh my goodness, Booker. You are one sick dog.” No owner’s heart or wallet wants to hear this. After being left there for a few hours, I get a call telling me that he is very sick, something is destroying his liver, and he needs to go to the veterinary hospital for at least a few days while they arrive at a diagnosis, help him get stronger, and derive a treatment plan. Another thing that neither your heart nor your wallet wants to hear.
I drove Booker straight to the hospital and after intake left him so that they could run tests and give him fluids. The call with the vet later that day was not good…. Booker had large-cell lymphoma and the prognosis was grim. My professional brain heard all the words and knew exactly what that all meant, but I was unable to speak for about a minute as time stood still. After I hung up, I sat and cried for who knows how long. Although we visited him, Booker spent the rest of Friday, all of Saturday, and until early Sunday afternoon receiving treatment with the hope that he would start to respond. He really didn’t.
Was it Just 33 hours?
We picked him up from the veterinary hospital in the early afternoon Sunday. He was very weak and very ready to get away from the pokes and prods. I went to put him in the back seat, and he insisted he was riding up front with me. This drive was terrible because I knew his time with us was short. We and all our kids spent the evening with him making sure that he was loved and received all the snuggles. He got to sleep in our bed with significant accommodation because of some of the ongoing symptoms he was experiencing… and we wanted to be close to him
Monday he had a time where he perked up and had many pictures taken. But by Monday night, it was clear that it was time. I’ll save you the details. It was time for one last car ride back to the hospital (where he again insisted on the front seat, though he curled up rather than watching the road), and the veterinarian confirmed what we already knew. Booker was dying, he showed no response to treatment, and that the most loving thing that we could do is say goodbye. What a strange thing to say. When the technician left with the consent, I turned with tears and said “I just signed my dog’s death warrant.” If you have been here, you know that it. was. awful. After just 19 months of life and 17 with us, we pet him, hugged him, kissed him, and told him we was a good boy and that he was loved as he left us.
The Reasons for Sharing
Some would read this story and wonder about this level of vulnerability in a blog post on my practice’s website. I get it… it is very vulnerable; very personal. But Booker’s death invaded my professional life for weeks and weeks after. I was silent about his loss in therapy sessions, but eventually everyone asked about him and I told the story over and over and over again. It never got easier, and it placed me in this odd position where patients for whom I had been caring wanted to care a little for me. Letting them see a glimpse of my pain and allow them to express condolence and empathy was probably in itself therapeutic. It has taken ten months for me to be willing to sit at the computer and write about it, and it has not been an easy morning.
While we have a new furry member of the family who is very loved (and who also has been met by all the patients I see virtually), I do not pretend to be “over” this loss. It’s not like it was in December 2021, but I think about Booker nearly every day and whenever I see a picture of him I feel both love and sadness. When I see a red golden, I have an urge to pet him and tell him what a good dog he must be.
Dr. Therese Rando, a clinical psychologist whose work is very focused on grief and loss, talks about traumatic loss. Even when we lose a pet, the sudden and unexpected loss of someone (even if that someone is a pet in my opinion) can be traumatic – particularly if the loss is not “on time” or about when we’d expect it. The trauma therapist in me has some difficulty using that word in this context, but that the feelings can be overwhelming and take a really long time time work through is apparent. And perhaps that’s ok. I write this to let you know that it’s ok to feel those strong feelings, and it’s good to talk about them and let your emotions flow in nondestructive ways. It’s ok to feel that it’s not just a dog (or whatever pet you have).
And it’s ok to be vulnerable. Our world could use more vulnerability, and more openness to the vulnerability of others. Seeing our common humanity – we love, we hurt when we lose, we want better for our kids than we had, we worry about the kind of world we are leaving for our kids – well, maybe something healing can occur. Empathy opens the door to mutual understanding and recognition.
Epilogue
Just because I’m not over Booker does not mean that I can’t open my heart. As I mentioned we have welcomed a new furry member of our family. Callie is a Great Pyrenees/St. Bernard mix. Affectionately referred to as the OxBear (because she’s huge and fluffy), she has assumed the duties of our Chief Doggo Officer here at Crosswinds Center. She does a lot of the same things Booker did – particularly jumping in my lap when she thinks I might be upset and she loves to snuggle. If you follow our social media, you met her the day before I shared this (September 5, 2022).