It's been a week since we said goodbye to our little buddy, Dundee. Dundee, our lovable little 10 year old pup, was diagnosed with degenerative heart valve disease just over a year ago. It progressively developed into congestive heart failure and he was eventually unable to play, go for walks, and was experiencing a cardiac "crisis" on weekly basis that occasionally led us to the vet clinic in all hours of the night for oxygen therapy. My poor little friend's quality of life was diminishing quickly, and Ev and I made the decision last Wednesday to book a home euthanization. It was very important to me that Dundee had a "good ending," and I feared that his ending would come in a frantic and scary 2am cardiac crisis at the vet clinic. We ensured that Dundee's last few days were his best (cheeseburgers on the beach, steak at Macabuca, visits with his bud, Stacey). However, essentially living 3 days with a countdown to your precious pet's life over your head is very difficult. When Friday afternoon arrived, our wonderful and compassionate vet, along with his assistant, sat down on the floor with us. We all gave Dundee sausages as he wagged his tail. Dundee laid down on his bed, Ev and I held him and told him that he was the "best boy," and then he quietly and gently fell asleep.
This is what I posted the next day:
We said goodbye to our sweet and devoted Dundee yesterday. His heart was just too big - I like to think it was a result of loving everything and everyone just a little too much.
Technically I am not a mom, but Dundee made me feel like one. I loved caring for him, even during his sickest nights. The pain of losing that role and losing my sweet little guy is overwhelming right now.
But as we said goodbye to Dundee, we held him close as he peacefully fell asleep and I repeated, "Thank you, thank you." In his last moments I was overwhelmed with thankfulness.
I am thankful that he chose us. We intended to take his calm brother 10 years ago but, but his wild hair and daredevil personality instantly drew us to him.
I am thankful that he was so loved. There's a long list of friends who have cared for Dundee when we went away. He won everyone over and brought joy to their home. He especially felt loved by Scott and Shelli his first few years.
I am thankful that he spent 6 years of his life on a tropical island. He hated cold and experienced more Caribbean sunsets and beach walks then most people.
I am thankful that he experienced Candle Lake. He loved it there and always assumed visitors were there specifically to see him.
I am thankful that he was able to celebrate his last birthday with his favorite humans. I'm also thankful that we were able to spend so much time with him during lockdown.
I am thankful for modern medicine and excellent veterinary care. His life was extended 4-6 months due to people who really cared.
I am thankful that we were able to give him a good ending. It was calm. He wasn't afraid. He ate sausages and then fell asleep in our arms in his own home.
I am thankful that he is with Monty again. He loved Monty and I can picture Monty laying on the floor while Dundee covers his face in puppy kisses. 
The initial feeling of relief was quickly replaced by intense sadness, and I'm not going to lie, I'm still having a really hard time with all of this. I know that people lose pets all the time, and I'm certain that there are others out there who have surely felt or feel as awful as I do right now. I've spent the week trying to sort through my feelings and understand why the loss of my dog is as painful as it is.
This is what I've come up with:
1) Change in Routine
Regardless of how much pain I was in, I got up every morning and took Dundee for a walk. It never felt like a chore for me, and although Evan frequently offered, I knew that Dundee preferred me on his morning walk because I walked slower and allowed him to sniff everything! ;)
I'm finding it difficult to get out of bed this week knowing that no one is depending on me for a walk. I would actually like to get up and go for a walk around the pool, but it feels aimless without Dundee, and perhaps I'm not ready to address the neighbours about Dundee's absence.
Our pets become a huge part of our routine. My morning always included a walk, my arrival home was always met with a little white face waiting for in the window, my bath always ended Dundee rushing into the bathroom to lick my feet (gross! I know!) In just a week, my entire routine has changed, and I'm feeling lost with these huge gaps in my day that were once filled with Dundee.
2) Change in Role
Like I said in my post, Dundee made me feel like a mom. Unlike our independent cat, I always felt as though Dundee depended on me to keep him safe and healthy. I'm not necessarily an affectionate person by nature, but I enjoyed coddling him, singing silly made-up songs to him, and kissing his little black nose. I constantly showed him affection and love and he reciprocated by gazing adoringly into my eyes, and offering me incredible friendship. In addition, as Dundee became sick, I became his care giver. During out last few months together, Dundee was taking 8 different medications for his heart. I was getting up at midnight, 3am and 5am to deliver his medications. I'm sure the neighbours thought I was crazy, standing outside in the grass at 3am in my nightgown helping Dundee take a pee. I spent hours plotting his respiratory rate on an app that tracked his heart function. Caring for Dundee's health needs became my full time job.
Now that Dundee is gone, I've gone from "Dog Mom" and "Dog Nurse" to....well, that's the problem, I don't know what my role is right now. I'm still automatically waking up at 3am, but I have no medications to deliver. As much as tracking Dundee's respiratory rate was extremely stressful, I miss the important job of ensuring that he was healthy. I've lost 2 very important roles in my life and I'm presently feeling a loss of purpose.
3) Feelings of Shame
I am lucky enough to be surrounded by like-minded people who understand the pain of losing a pet. The multiple messages from friends, family, and even friends who haven't reached out in a long time, has made me feel very supported. Thank you for this!
I'm also cognizant of the fact that some people don't value the life of a pet to the same level as I do. The Caribbean culture, for example, does not necessarily view animals in the same respect as the North American culture. We tend to view animals as members of our family, personifying them, dressing them in clothing, and allowing them to sleep in our beds. I know that many of my Caribbean colleagues believe this is ridiculous - an animal is not a human and should not be treated as one. Likewise, the loss of an animal should not lead to intense emotional feelings.
For this reason, I've been repressing the sadness that I'm feeling about the loss of Dundee during the work day, and then completely falling apart when I am alone in my car or at home. I've been feeling quite weepy all week, and my worst fear has been breaking down in tears during a school meeting, explaining that my intense sadness is related to the loss of my dog, and feeling shameful about that.
4) Feelings of Guilt
I read an article about man who has lost 2 dogs in his life. One dog died suddenly and the man felt guilt for not noticing that his dog had not been well. The other dog had been ill and the man opted for a scheduled euthanasia, which caused him to feel guilt about the decision to end his dog's life.
I think that regardless of how your pet's life ends, you will feel some level of guilt.
Thankfully, this is not a feeling that I'm experiencing on an intense level. I do question if perhaps Dundee could have had a few more weeks of life with us - perhaps we prematurely ended his life? I'm not sure. However, I do know that if his life would have ended in a frantic cardiac crisis at the clinic, the guilt that I felt would have been enormous. I do not regret the ending that we were able to provide for him, and I do believe that this was the final gift that we were able to provide him with after 10 years of undying loyalty and unconditional love.
