Sad stuff about my dog passing under the cut.
Two days ago, we had to say goodbye to Tiny.
Tiny came into my life nearly six years ago when I first met Tony. One of his signs of affection was growling and grumbling (even snarling if he was getting really into it), but the first time I met him and Tony told me that I remember thinking ‘heh heh yeah I think this dog actually hates me’. :)
How wrong I was.
Tiny was the sweetest and most endearing creature, he loved everyone he ever met. I know everyone thinks this of their pet, but he really was the sweetest and best boy on the planet earth. I loved him so much. I never bonded with a dog like I bonded with Tiny. I have had many sweet dogs in my life that I have loved very deeply, but with each one of them there was always the distinct divide that they weren’t really *my* baby.
But Tiny WAS my baby. Some people may find this silly, but he was one of my best friends, he was my family. I would often even make the stupid joke that I ‘birthed’ him and that he was just like his father because honestly, he really was. He was perfect for us.
Our Bub was so funny and unique, unlike any dog I had ever met. He had anxiety out the wazoo and would often cry and whine in despair if Tony and I were in separate rooms from him, let alone gone from the house (that would evoke yodeling that could be heard to the heavens). He loved to flop around and stamp his big clumsy feet on the back of your legs as he followed after you through the apartment. Though greyhounds are known as being couch potatoes, crawling up on furniture scared him, so he would mostly just walk up to you and insert his little pea head in your armpit and grumble happily while you loved on him. If you parked yourself on the floor next to him for cuddles, he was prone to get over excited and be unable to chill out because he was so excited you were near. He was pretty nervous around other dogs, but loved whenever people would come by for a visit. He was easily spooked by noises and wind was the worst-it was like a horrible noise you could also feel. He didn’t like snow and if he was in it too long, he would get super dramatic about his ‘frosty paws’ and lift his feet up while giving you the most pathetic look ever so that you would carry him big old body inside (but he had no idea how to handle booties, so the dramatics were his only option).
But he was getting old, very old for a bigger dog, and his body started to stop working like it should. This past summer when I was on vacation his back legs stopped working for a while, and though he had good days mixed with the not so good ones, he never truly recovered and was only getting worse.
Towards the very end, he could barely walk. He couldn’t get up on his own, we has to help lift him and support him a bit to stabilize him. He couldn’t clean himself or potty without assistance-we had to hold him or he would topple over when he’d go. He’d cry at night because he didn’t have the strength to reposition himself, and when he would potty he would have to go out about every 2 hours (sometimes more) because he wasn’t strong enough to get it all out in one go.
It was obvious the end was coming and that things were only going to get worse. He was on so many meds that were becoming increasingly less effective. The only other option to help with his legs was surgery, but Tiny was so old and anxious and the vet upset him so much we knew we didn’t want to put him through that. There was also a large lump forming on one of his legs we were pretty sure was a tumor, but we couldn’t be certain without more vet visits.
When we made the appointment, I felt really guilty. Every other pet I’ve had that has passed went on their own, so it felt strange and heartbreaking to schedule something like this. Waiting was horrible and I just tried not to think about it in the days leading up to it. The night before Tiny was being very snuggly and calm, letting us sit and lay with him when that usually got him all riled up. I think he knew and I think he was trying to show us that it would be OK.
The morning of was peaceful. He filled up on his favorite wet food and I was beside him petting him the whole day, telling him how much we love him and how he was the best boy ever. When the vet came from Lap of Love I was really, really concerned with how they would be. We never met them before and I was so concerned it would feel awkward and fake or patronizing. Dr. Meredith was incredible though, we truly could not have asked for a kinder human being. She was so sweet to Tony and I and Bub. As a final treat we gave him some chocolate ice cream and he LOVED it. When she injected him with the drugs that made him sleepy, he fell asleep with his nose in the bowl. His passing was quick, painless, and peaceful. He was surrounded by the people that loved him.
But now he is gone and there is a void.
Everything reminds me of him. I wake up and the first thing I think is “I need to take Bub out.” I keep thinking I need to check his water bowl and get his breakfast/dinner ready. I used to complain so much about how he’s get kibbled everywhere in the apartment (he had no teeth and a floopy tongue so eating was always a free for all), but now it seems like a dumb thing to gripe about. I would let him get 10,000 kibbles on the ground and never make a complaint if it means I could have him back and healthy.
I hear a noise outside or someone knocking and I think “oh no Bub is gonna be upset, I better make sure he’s OK.” When he first passed I heard Tony walk in the other room and thought the sound of his feet on the carpet was Bub panting. I instinctively look for him is his usual spot in the living room and get heartbroken each time I realize he isn’t there. I went for a walk yesterday and when I put my hand in my jacket pocket, I started to cry when I felt one of the bags I used to pick up his droppings (who ever thought a poop bag would make me emotional?). I am putting off putting my laundry away because he would always come in the bedroom multiple times while I put it away, seeking pets and affection while I tried to get chores done. Whenever I come home, I miss him greeting me. Even at the end when he could barely walk or stand on his own, he always ALWAYS stood up and came to the door to meet me when I came home. His big goofy grin, greeting me so earnestly every time.
Today was my first day back to work, and it sucked going through the routine without Bub there. I used to kiss his little dog bean before starting my shift each morning ‘for luck’.
The apartment seems so empty with him gone. I miss him so much. I love him so much, and I hope he knows how much we loved him and just how special he was. There will never be another Bub, and life is much lesser with him gone. I kept telling him that Tony and I will be OK, and we will be, but we will never stop missing him and loving him.
I know he is with Meow Meow now, and I hope that when she met him she greeted him with purrs and snuggles.
Here’s to Tiny, our Bubber, the best baby old man actual infant adult grown man in the universe. I love you, I love you, I love you, and thank you for being in my life. Thank you for bringing us happiness. Thank you for picking Tony that day and becoming our son. I will never forget you.
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