Blonde Rocky

Today has been one of those days where I had to remind myself that it's okay to still miss our girls. Today marks two years since we lost our Sydney Girl. Today is the day that I was reminded that there were so many good times.

It's amazing the things that go through your head during that uninterrupted time in the car. I had a full hour and fifteen minutes today to relive that day two years ago. That moment I carried her into the vet's office... I look back at that moment and think how did I manage that. I carried my 37 lb. baby into the office cradled in my arms while Christian waited in the car with Cocoa. I opened the door on my own without dropping her or shifting her in anyway that would cause her discomfort. Really, how did I do that? The more I revisited that experience I knew I had to call Christian. He got me refocused as he told his favorite story about our girl.

We live near the Carl Sandburg Home and would occasionally take the girls there to walk. If you have ever walked to the top of Big Glassy, you know it is a journey that is all uphill. On this particular day Christian decided that he was going all the way to the top with Katie. Um, really?! You can count me out. More importantly, there was NO way that Sydney could make that climb. Given her hip issues and arthritis, there was no way I was going to push that girl to walk to the top.

Picture of Sydney from a trip to Charleston. 

As we stood there in a clearing, I watched Christian and Katie take off. She pranced in front of him with her ears bouncing like antennae. Slowly, I began to nudge Sydney back down the way we came. She was resistant. To be honest, resistant isn't a strong enough word. She was downright belligerent. Eventually, she got her way and we headed up after the other two. Yes, I had just let the dog manipulate me, but she was insistent. That's the thing about Sydney, she had this way about her, this silent determination that always amazed us.

That was a slow walk up to Big Glassy. Every step was slow and deliberate, but it was determined. As Christian told that story today he mentioned the feeling that he felt when he saw us arrive at the top. I will never forget his look of disbelief. I explained that the choice hadn't been mine, but I had been forced to head that direction against my will. From there on out Christian dubbed her "Blonde Rocky."

This was such an appropriate name for her. She battled so many health issues her entire life but emerged on the other side with dignity and perseverance. Even to the end she was a fighter, and I am so lucky that she was a part of my life, even if it was too short of a time.

Time for Healing

This is my first post since the day after Sydney passed. This silence is somewhat symbolic of those first couple of months following the loss of our girl. For those first couple of months I managed to shutdown every time I felt myself get sad. If you know me well, you know I usually cry fairly easily. That's what made that time so bizarre to me. It was as if I could just flip a switch. Part of this was undoubtedly due to the fact that I felt like I had been crying since December. Maybe I was just numb. I just could not bear to admit that I missed her so very much. 

Losing Katie and Sydney have been two entirely different experiences. With Katie we had to have someone tell us it was time. To look at her she still looked healthy, but she was in kidney failure and just was not eating. Even on her last day she was full of energy and she died they way she would have wanted. She was in Christian's arms with her tail (ok, she really only had a nub) moving as fast as it would go. Sydney, on the other hand, was so different. We knew it was time. We were not dependent on direction from our vet. At the vet's office, she did not move. She was in misery. Sometimes I think that made letting her go easier. 

The last month though I have acknowledged the hurt and sadness, and I finally feel as if I am beginning to heal. I still think I hear her sometimes. I still look for her in the window when I come home, and I wonder if that feeling will ever stop. The tears started again, and I finally feel like I have truly grieved for this loss. 

It's funny that as I write this blog post that it has turned out the way it has. I sat down to write about the positives, but it seems that my heart had other plans. Guess that is what healing is all about. We all need to follow our hearts sometimes. Given the challenges of the past few months, I am getting better about that. 

Overwhelmed with Sadness

It seems the last four months have brought nothing but despair. The loss of my sweet Katie on December 16th was the beginning of what I can only describe as a time that has challenged my heart and soul. February had some additional personal challenges that brought anger and sadness. This has all culminated with the loss of my sweet Sydney Girl yesterday. The suddenness of it has me shocked to the core, and I miss her with every fiber of my being.

Thursday I left home on a work trip, and there was nothing that seemed out of the ordinary. Christian called me on Saturday as I made the trek home and said that her tumor was significantly larger and hard as a rock. To make matters worse, she had a slight limp. I made arrangements to make an emergency vet visit that evening. She had fallen earlier that day, and we wanted to make sure there was nothing broken. We got some pain meds and few answers to why the sudden change. However, there was still hope. Then, Sunday happened. 

On Sunday morning we discovered Sydney with slight traces of blood. At first it seemed she had licked the tumor until it bled, but as the day progressed it bled more and more. We knew the second she tried to stand that morning that this was going to be our last day with her. She was barely able to stand, and when she would try her back legs would give way. It was heartbreaking to watch as she struggled just to go to the bathroom. Oddly enough, she would somehow struggle to get up and make it to her bowl at feeding time. We would then hold her up as she ate, and we fed her a lot that day. We fed her everything she could possible want - pancakes, hamburger, dog ice cream, blackberries. We stayed by her side throughout the day. She and I spent the night on the living room floor. At one point she rolled over on her side so that she was touching me. I cherish that moment of knowing that I could be close to her while she was in pain. She slept very little that night. There were only two hours where I truly felt she rested. As the hours passed, I was thankful we were getting closer to the time when the vet's office would be open. This was not because I wanted to lose her, but I just could not watch her suffer any longer. The bandages I wrapped her leg in were covered in blood, and when I would touch her she would flinch. 

I carried her into the vet's office wrapped in a towel. As I laid her down, our vet just said, "Oh, Syd." I am not sure why that stands out in my mind, but it just confirmed what I already knew. As we waited for them to insert her catheter and bring her to us, we cried and reminisced about our beautiful girl. Tonya, who works there, carried in my girl and laid her on the blanket in the floor. It was so right that it was Tonya as she loved our girl too. She leaned down to kiss that beautiful cranium and told Sydney that she loved her. This speaks volumes about Sydney and her impact on those around her. It still brings tears to my eyes when I think of that moment. I laid on the floor with my girl as she took her last breath. My face buried in the softest fur on the back of her head. Christian was there stroking her head. Leaving her behind was the most difficult thing I have ever done. 

Sydney was my rock. She made me better. Her love made me the animal lover I am today. I never thought I could feel this attachment to a dog, but she was so much more than that. She was a part of me, and while I will always have those memories, that hole that was left by Katie just got a lot bigger. Fifteen years just doesn't seem like long enough.