My house is pet-free for the first time in about 20 years.
Over the last several months, we had been dreading the day when Bailey, our 13-year-old black lab, would die. I was privately hoping to find him one morning or one afternoon passed away in our house. I knew the end was near for him, but I was in denial for a long time after the inevitability facing our family. As with his older brother dog Fletch, I was hoping he would make the call rather than force it on us.
It was going to have to be our decision. A few weeks ago, I woke up to find him asleep on the kitchen floor in his own feces and urine. That had happened previously but it was more frequent now. It was as if it didn’t matter to him anymore. Even when I tried to coax him to get up and go outside, he didn’t have the strength to lift his head. Therefore, I carried him outside to finish whatever remained of his business.
I decided after talking with Pam that would be the day. However, because it was a Saturday, our vet was not open, and I wasn’t convinced enough to drive to Salisbury for an emergency situation. Later that afternoon it seemed like the right call because Bailey was lying by the pool watching us swim and seemed to be doing much better.
Fast forward to last Friday when I found Bailey again in the same shape on the floor and was able to get in to our vet, who agreed with our assessment that the time had come to make the decision for him.
While Pam and I immediately felt the grief from losing Bailey that day, the kids took it differently. There were no tears from either child. That surprised us. It was as if neither could accept it or were just out of touch with their emotions.
Carson, 7, was at home when I carried Bailey to my truck on our way to the vet. He said bye with a pat on the head and seemed to understand what was transpiring as we had been talking about it all morning. Shortly before I left, I reminded him what was about to transpire. In his non-verbal way, he let me know he got it. He touched his heart and pointed to the sky and that might have been the most emotional I got about the whole thing. He was referring to what I told him when our other dog, Fletch, had to be put down three years ago. He was letting me know he was in his heart and in heaven.
Beckett was at camp and therefore didn’t get to say goodbye, but I’m not sure he would have done so anyway. When I picked Beckett, 9, up from the camp that day, I told him I said something big to talk to him about. His response was, “is it emotional? It’s Bailey, right? He died?”
I told him Mom and Dad and the veterinarian thought it was the right thing to do due to his age, failing health and poor quality of life. He seemed to agree as he knows how hard life had gotten for Bailey over the last several months. “Well, at least now you won’t have to clean up dog poop every day,” he said in what appeared to me to be some sort of glass half full reasoning.
To me, the loss was an adjustment over a series of moments. Every single morning since has been weird. For as long as I can remember, the first thing I did every morning was find Bailey downstairs. I wanted to see if he was still alive and also to see if and where he had an accident. Then there was every night when I would normally take him outside. It was the end of a routine.
When we came home from the beach last Saturday, Pam ran inside to use the restroom and I asked her out of habit to help Bailey (which for the last year has entailed boosting him up, cleaning up the accident he surely had while we were gone and steadying his hips to the door). As soon as I said it, I knew it was silly. Both kids heard me say it and neither had a response.
Later I was talking to the kids about the whole concept of the Rainbow Bridge and read him a nice card the vet had sent us. It was a learning moment for both of them and an expansion upon the concept of heaven that both of them are already versed on.
I’m sure everyone is familiar with it but I wanted to reprint it here for its healing purposes.
“When our beloved companions die, they go to Rainbow Bridge. Just outside of heaven’s gate, it is a place of rolling hills and lush green meadows. Food, water and sunshine are plentiful. Here, old animals become young again and the ill or injured are made healthy and strong. The animals are happy and content but one thing isn’t right — there is someone very special that they had to leave behind.
“Even though the days are full of running and playing, a day comes when one of the animals suddenly stops and looks off into the distance, eyes shining in eager anticipation. Seeing his special someone, he breaks away from his friends, flying across the fields. With a welcoming embrace, you and your pet are reunited forever. You look once more into the loving eyes of your pet and realize that you had never left each other’s hearts.
“And you cross the Rainbow Bridge together.”
