The Day The Ashes Came Home

I had to put my 14 year old Persian cat down on 2/16/2022. She wasn't acting herself, so took her to the vet. Diagnosis was oral cancer, and that her time with me would be limited to a week to ten days. The vet told me to let her eat whatever she wanted, and gave me pain medicine for Maia. I bawled all the way home, and couldn't believe what the vet told me. I slept with her on the floor, or any place she decided to lie down. I would still brush her, sing to her, and hug her. I am completely beside myself. She was my companion and best friend., and I am at a loss of what to do. I hate going home now, as there is nobody to greet me, to lie on my lap, or to sleep with me! Hardest is in the mornings and evenings. I had Maia cremated, and brought her ashes home a week ago. I talk to her and hug her urn every morning when I get up and before I go to bed. By hugging her urn, close to my heart, I feel this warmth radiating in my chest. I get so sad, that I get pains in my chest. People say to get another cat, not to replace Maia, but to honor her memory. I just can't do this! I feel like I would be betraying her. I wonder if I will ever be the same again. I feel like I will never be able to function, but it has only been 12 days since she was put to sleep. It seems like years. It gives me comfort reading these comments because I know there are pet owners that feel the same way I do. Please feel free to reply to my post, as I am so depressed about losing my furbaby!

We lost our Brown Newfie on July 7th. Everything you have said here is spot on. Our deepest sympathies.

Jen, You’re experience with bringing Sherman home is almost identical to what I just went through with my Bella. She was my first Newf - and honestly became my best friend, constant companion, confidant - she was everything to me. And I lost her right after becoming an empty nester, so the loss was even harder. The lack of her presence in my home, my life, and in my every day routine has been devastating. Like you I couldn’t bear to part with her ashes at first. Even took her to NC when I went to visit my brother - couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her at home alone. Her feeding stand and bowls are still in their usual spot in the kitchen. I did manage to wash her blankets and put them away - except one that I keep in my chair to feel her close to me. She now keeps watch over me and the house from a table in the foyer - where she spent a lot of her time laying on the AC vent in the tile floor right by the front door. I never knew I could love a dog so deeply, but she got me through a lot of rough and lonely times. Always there. Always listening. Not sure I can ever give my heart to another one since she took up so much of my love. I will say that the pics of Lou do make me smile and laugh - he looks so much like her when she was a baby. Big furry goofball. Thank you for sharing him and Odin and Finn. What I wouldn’t give to go nose to nose with her again, look into her sweet soulful eyes and kiss her soft furry face. She was definitely a once in a lifetime for me - now forever in my heart.

It's been a hard 2 years for me! All 6 of my special dogs have passed away, all with different circumstances. The last one was quite sudden, 3 months ago. He was MY Baby as he was born onto my hands, and I rubbed him clean & warm, gave him a few CPR puffs of air & tiny compressions, and he sprang to life! He was my constant companion, watching TV, ridding in the car to town, walking around the ranch or to the kitchen to wash dishes. He was always right there, sitting next to me, nudging my hand for a pat, sleeping on the end of my bed & grooming the cats. He never met a stranger and everyone who met him loved him. Despite his size, he was so gentle and sweet, especially with children. Then a few days before his 10th birthday he started refusing his meals. I started freaking out! He never did that! I took immediately to our vet the next day. She did a blood panel, and came back the news that it look VERY out of whack. I could tell by her tone of voice there was more she wanted to say, but was holding back. She asked if she could send his results off to a specialist before making a Dx, and I agreed. It was the Labor Day weekend, and the longest 3 days of my life. Late Tuesday afternoon, she called to say that she was sorry to report the specialist had confirmed her fears. Mac had Acute Leukimia! OH GOD! What did that mean? She wanted me to take him to the specialist for that answer. After several failed attempts to get an appointment, I called her back for help. She got me an appointment 2 days later. I was terrified! The day came and we took him in for his appointment. Dr.s assessment was that Mac's condition was untreatable. The best we could do was to take him home & keep him comfortable till he passed. My husband & I cried all the way back to the ranch. In just those few days from the 1st blood test, Mac became unable to stand or walk. It took all we both could do, to get Mac into the house & settled in a place we could be around him. We talked and talked that afternoon, but there was no good outcome to be hoped for. So we called the vet & made an appointment for the next morning to take him "to the Rainbow Bridge". (just can' t say what we were really going to do) Mac couldn't get up on the bed to sleep, so husband & I were up with him most of the night. When I woke up at 5am, Mac was already gone. Choking back tears, I called the vet to cancel our appointment, but asked to bring him in to be cremated. It was awful having to make that drive & leaving him there. I was in a fog for the next week till they called to say Macs ashes were back. I went to pick him up and put him on the breakfront in the dining room with his father, aunt, mother & best friend. So there they are, all 5 together, next to each other. I walk by them all day, and still stop & cry & cry. Every last one of them were wonderful in their special way and Mac was the combination of all their love and sweetness. I can still not think of them without tears. Even my Dr. asked me this week if I was depressed. I was barely able to tell him the story. Tears and crying are a part of every day. I feel badly behaving like this around my little rescue terrier & 2 cats, all of which were "walk-ups" to the house & we took in. They try their best, but it is such a huge hole in my chest! I even feel a bit guilty about putting money down to hold a pup for me when he is ready to leave his mom. I know Mac would be happy to have a little brother around for me, but I still cry knowing Mac is gone from my life. I hope I'm going to be able to be a good mom to this new pup. I Do know no pup will ever take his place. Sorry this story has been so long. It's the 1st time I've put all this down in writing.

My hear goes out to you, I'm so sorry for your loss. My beautiful Chocolate Labrador Elwood crossed the rainbow bridge on May 16 and honestly I thought I would die. I won't go through the details but suffice to say I was right there, my head on his chest, when his heart stopped. He was 17 years old and I had him from 6 weeks old. He was with me through a life-shattering betrayal, a divorce and a series of traumatic events that followed. He was the only one out of everyone I had who never left me. When he was 14 he was diagnosed with laryngeal paralysis, and it was determined he might not survive the surgery, so we opted not to do it and instead make his life as comfortable as possible. Since high temperatures, humidity and strenuous exercise exacerbated his condition we set our thermostat to 60 degrees F year-round, shortened his walks and playtime was mild. I decided I couldn't leave him alone anymore so I stayed home 24/7, with short errand runs once a week or so. He slowed down but otherwise his quality of life remained fairly steady, for a geriatric dog. He was with me another 3 years, and every day I thought I would be saying goodbye to him, even though he still managed to stand up, walk to the kitchen to eat and drink, and still managed to go outside to relieve himself. Then one day as we were heading inside he bolted for the entrance and ran into the screen door, something he hadn't done before, and I could tell it dazed him. We managed to get inside and he made his way to the bedroom, his sacred spot. Then he laid down and my heart sank. He tried to keep his head up but eventually he lowered it to his paws. His breathing was labored and I wiped away the drool that was forming on his lips with a soft, moist washcloth. He had never drooled before, and I knew this was almost the end. I stroked his giant head and told him I loved him. All at once he rolled over onto his side and my heart leaped into my throat. I began to cry, and I told him it was okay to go, that I would be fine. Deep down I honestly wanted to go with him. I put my head on his chest and held his arm. I don't know how long we were like that but my husband came home and I was still lying on the floor, my head on Elwood's chest. He was gone.

Our best friends helped us get him to the vet, where we had a short vigil in a room they had prepared for grieving. It was somber but it helped to reminisce. I didn't do very well for the next whole month, and my friends and husband were a little afraid for me, so they suggested looking at some rescues, since earlier I had promised Elwood I would adopt a dog from a shelter in his honour. I didn't know if I was ready, but I hurt so much I couldn't get through the day. Every picture I looked at made me hurt all the more. But then one of them came to me via email completely out of the blue and I couldn't get the image out of my head. It was a large brown dog with such severely matted fur that I could not determine the breed, standing in a field of weeds. Something about that face made an impression on me that I couldn't shake, so I inquired about her. Turns out she was a Newfie that had been relinquished by the breeder, who I now know was running a puppy mill (and shut down). I filled out all of the necessary forms and went to meet her. She went home with us that day and it changed my life. It took forever to get Elwood's ashes, but during our first visit to the vet with our Lottie we were told they had arrived. So there I was, the beautiful carved and engraved box with Elwood's ashes in one hand, and Lottie tethered to a leash in the other. It was a surreal moment, and my eyes welled up with tears of both loss and gratitude.

Lottie now looks like the Newfie she is, and I know she feels safe and loved. Everyone I know have said it is as if Elwood picked her out for me. I don't know, but I'm sort of inclined to believe it myself.