As I walked into consult room 2 with my baby in my arms and saw candles flickering in the darkness with a simple yet beautiful bouquet of freshly picked wild flowers laying on a soft blanket, reality began to set in. Yet part of me still felt like I would be going back out with her, loyally walking by my side. As much as I knew Indie was getting older and starting to struggle, I still believed she’d just carry on.
The day I had wished would never come finally came. On the eve of Friday, May 31, 2024, it was time to say goodbye to my dog, my daughter, my angel, Indie.
I was blessed enough to be surrounded by amazing humans that showered Indie and myself with the love and safety I had longed for my whole life. I embraced Indie, giving her as much love as I could before it was too late. As my friend administered the injection, I held and kissed her as I thanked her for everything. Her head began to weigh, and my heart shattered as I felt her go.
As parents to fur children, we also take on a responsibility we wish we didn’t have to. We often have to make the final decision. Which just adds another layer to the emotional turmoil we feel when we lose a pet. Guilt. We hope for the “perfect” scenario. They peacefully and painlessly drift off to sleep of their own accord after a long and happy life. But life is not perfect. I knew allowing her to continue fading in front of my eyes, because I didn’t want to let her go, was for me and not for her.
It’s strange. Realistically, we know death is a part of life, an inevitability each and every one of us will face. Yet, when we face death or loss, we are still unprepared. It can feel like the rug has been pulled out from under us. Our hearts break. How are we going to live without the soul we’re losing?
And the bond between human and animal is profound. They love in the purest form. It’s unconditional and untainted. I had never experienced this kind of love until Indie. She helped me feel safe and less alone. She inspired me to love, for love’s sake. For so many of us, our pets are our light at the end of the tunnel. Indie gave me a reason to keep going. She was my hope.
Many of us struggle with change, and death is the biggest change of all. For almost half of my life, I took care of Indie, and she took care of me. I stayed awake late at night to take her to the toilet. I made sure she had breakfast and dinner (and everything in between). I’d pull her out of the cat litter whenever she “accidentally” found herself in there. I’d click my keys to unlock the car, and see her little head pop up with happiness that I was back. Now, when I click my keys, there is no head popping up. No one is overjoyed with excitement that I’ve returned.
Adjusting to a new life is challenging. And this is a new life. My previous “self” left with Indie. I have never met this version of me. But that’s the thing. With every microsecond that passes, we leave the past versions of ourselves behind. I am not the same person I was when I began writing this. And you are not the same person you were when you started reading.
Despite all the pain and sadness, there are silver linings too. The love that remains and the lessons that we’ve learned. And Indie is still teaching me.
I am so grateful to you, darling pup, for all the memories you’ve given me…
The first day I saw Indie at the rescue centre was in 2010. This 10-month-old pup sat silently in her kennel, locking focus in on me while every other pup around her was distressed and crying.
Indie, recovering from her first patella surgery. She had fallen down what seemed like a 20-foot bank a while before this photo, and in true staffy form, she carried on until she couldn’t use the leg anymore.
She loved sleeping in seemingly uncomfortable places.
And she loved her cats.
Indie was a human in a dog’s body.
If you saw me, you’d see Indie. And Vice Versa. We came as a pair.
She was picky about the canines she’d let into her heart, but special ones made it through.
She gave me the courage to do more things in my life, because I wanted to do them with her.
As she got older, we switched hikes for puppuccinos. Meeting more kind souls on our coffee shop travels.
Then this little lady finally became tired, and it was time.
Winnie The Pooh Said It Best “How Lucky I Am To Have Something That Makes Saying Goodbye So Hard.”
Have You Lost A Pet? What Memories Bring A Smile To Your Face? I’d Love To Hear Your Story. Leave A Comment Or Just Fill Out A Contact Form!
*If you’re struggling to cope some advice can be found here Coping with Losing a Pet – HelpGuide.org. Just remember we are all different. I’m having to learn that there is no set way to grieve.
