Battery Operated Pancreas

Just another day in the life of a diabetic…

What a weekend it’s been…

on July 30, 2012

This post was written back on April 30th, about an hour after coming back from the animal hospital after saying goodbye to my friend and companion, Brandy. It was an extremely difficult time for me and I was in a very emotional state. I did however want to post this, but was not ready to share at that point in time. Today marks three months since that day. Time has helped take the edge off a bit, but the emptiness and hole in my heart still remains. I have realized in my life that we do all that we can that is humanly possible to help our fur babies, but in the end when we finally realize there is no more than can be done, we do what is best, no matter how painful that decision may be. I did not edit this post since first writing it because I wanted it to be the real deal. I hope you enjoy the post.

Today we made the decision no pet parent ever wants to be faced with. We had to put Brandy, my 16-year-old miniature poodle to sleep. She had been showing signs of age for a while now, and in recent weeks more so than ever. But the past 3 days were truly heartbreaking. I had to believe it was kidney failure, and as our vet suspected by looking a her and he verbally confirmed it. At this point in the game I just couldn’t see putting her through a battery of invasive tests to tell us the inevitable. It pains me very much to see an animal suffering when there isn’t much (or anything that can be done) but the pain of loss is not lessened by any means. I am at peace with our decision and would like to remember a happier time to share with you:

Brandy’s story.

We received a phone call on May 24th, 1996. It was the woman who worked at the Port Washington Animal Hospital. She had hooked us up with Max, after my first dog, Happy, passed away two years prior. She was calling this time to see if we were interested in another miniature poodle, this time a little girl. We were unsure of owning two dogs at once and expressed our concern. She said “Take her for the weekend and see how it goes, you can always give her back to me if it doesn’t work out.”  Apparently, this tiny straggly dog was found wandering the streets of Brooklyn, NY and somehow ended up at the Port Washington animal hospital. She was a tough mama, though! The woman had taken her home to foster, but this woman owned 3 rottweilers of her own and wanted to find this little sweet puppy a more appropriate playmate, even though the rotties and her got along just fine. We cautiously took the puppy, thinking it wasn’t really going to work out. When we finally got her home, we introduced her to Max. In hindsight  Max chased her everywhere! My dad instantly fell in love with her. She was the calm lap dog that Max was not, and he loved her dearly. One weekend turned into two weekends then three….and sixteen years later that weekend finally came to an end. But I digress, happy memories here. Max and Brandy were pals and were so adorable when they would chase each other around the house and play together. But she wasn’t all about play, like Max was. So they had their “moments” of arguing, if you will. But for the most part, they were the best of friends. Max loved Brandy to bits, any time she left the house without him, for a trip to the vet or a haircut, he would howl like nobody’s business. It was very sweet how protective he was over her. Only two short years after welcoming Brandy into our home, my dad passed away. Brandy seemed a little lost. Where’s the lap I love? She would (well, both my dogs) would run to the door right around 6pm and wait for my dad’s entrance home from work. I don’t remember how long it took them to break out of that habit, but eventually it stopped. That was heartbreaking on so many levels, it wasn’t funny. Mostly, I remember my fur babies being a couple of clowns, they could always cheer me up or make me smile, on even my worst day. It’s amazing and I don’t know how they do it, but they meant the world to me. It’s going to be so hard to break the habit of checking where she sleeps and looking around for her. I am at such a loss right now, I feel like there is a huge void in my life. I have lived with furry friends for more than not of my life. I got my first dog in fall of 1979, only about 6 or 7 months after I was diagnosed with diabetes, so I really don’t know what its like not to have a dog. I feel the right thing to do at this point is to take time to mourn and when we are ready to move on, we will. In the vet’s office I saw a little girl and her mom with what had to be her first puppy. She was probably right around the age I was when I got mine (maybe a year or two older at most) It was a bitter-sweet moment. Happy that she was SO happy and then back to extra sad for my poor dog. I hope that little girl gets all the happiness I have ever known from loving that little puppy and grows up to be a responsible pet owner.

Unfortunately, I never did get to finish writing this blog. I thought I might somehow come back to finish my thoughts, but never did. In the end, I really didn’t want there to be an end. (the most honest thing I can say) I am not “over” my loss, because I’m not sure we ever really get over these things, but rather, get through them. 

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