It has been 5 months today since I received a frantic call from my mom, who was stopping by my house to drop off the Bissel to clean the carpet on my steps. (I called her that morning and asked her if I could borrow it because Gracie had gotten into some powered cocoa that was in the trash and grounded it into the rug. Oh, Gracie. lol)
My mom, trying not to cry, told me that I had to come home immediately, that she thinks Gracie might be dying, that something was terribly wrong. I hang up the phone, gather my things, and leave work. I’m calling people I know, asking anyone to take me home. I’m crying. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m scared.
I secure a ride and start walking down Market Street, on the phone with B who is in Idaho, crying hysterically. It is pouring rain and I have no umbrella and I don’t care.
My mom calls again.
When I pick up, I immediately ask how she’s doing.
“Oh Jen. She’s gone,” my mom tells me.
I wailed that she was wrong. I screamed at her to take her to the vet. At the top of my lungs, I yelled and cried and screamed. I told her she couldn’t be sure that she was dead, to stop talking to me and just take her. I begged her to please, please take her. I could hear her crying too, but I didn’t care. She was wrong and I didn’t believe her.
Finally, to get through to me, she yelled back that she wasn’t breathing anymore. She just wasn’t.
I found out later that Gracie had already died when my mom first called me at work. She had been barking a little at my mom when she was unlocking the door to my house – the windows were open so my mom was telling her, “It’s just me Gracie, we’ll be in in a second!” Gracie always got very super excited when people entered the house, usually slipping on the hardwood floors as she scrambled to greet you at the door. My mom could hear her doing that, and then a thud, almost as if she ran into something. When she got in Gracie was laying on the floor. My mom went over to her and she could tell something was wrong – she thought maybe she really hurt herself when she hit the furniture. Within the minute she started involuntarily excreting bodily fluids. My mom was petting her and talking to her.
She let out one last breath, and she died in my mom’s arms.
I pretend like I could adopt another dog, but 5 months later my heart still aches. How can I love another, I think? I only wanted her.
Gracie & one of her favorite past times: licking my face.
“There is no psychiatrist in the world like a puppy licking your face.” – Ben Williams
9 comments
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March 15, 2010 at 10:01 am
kaitlin
5 months already? it seems like just a couple weeks ago you called to tell me…
this post gave my goosebumps and brought tears to my eyes. every time I read about gracie, I have that same reaction.
you will love another when the time is right. gracie would want you to share your love with others. but, just like all things, it takes time to be ready for that.
xo.
March 15, 2010 at 10:58 am
greg
I’m so sad for you. This was such a touching and painful post to read.
March 15, 2010 at 1:29 pm
2momswithaplan
It’s so sad that she was taken from your life so quickly but it sounds like she filled your life with so much joy. Even moments of her getting into the powdered cocoa and grinding it into the rug are moments you won’t ever forget. She will always live in your heart. You will want another when the time is right. When your heart is done hurting. Take your time through this process. The grief is strong and true and that’s ok.
*sending virtual hugs your way*
March 15, 2010 at 1:39 pm
alphafemme
you know the thing about love, though, is that you can love as much and as many beings as you want and it doesn’t make the love for any of them any less…
March 16, 2010 at 6:31 pm
jessejames
Ack. Crying. Man o man, it just never stops breaking my heart for you. You’ll have another dog-love in your life someday. Don’t rush it. When the time and the dog is right, you’ll know (lord, I sound like my mother.)
March 22, 2010 at 1:41 pm
JMc
Its gets easier…trust me. But I can still cry about losing Fred the Dog in about 2 seconds and its 9 years later. The difference is I can choose to not cry now if I want to. Hang tough.
March 25, 2010 at 8:14 pm
Mel
I understand it’s still so hard. I always thought she had died alone but I’m glad to read your mom was with her when she passed.
Hugs to you and know there are people out there who completely understand.
February 13, 2012 at 12:29 am
Jeff
Just read your article about Gracie and it’s 2012 – but time doesn’t matter. Our beloved Great Pyrenees Theodore suddenly went into kidney failure and at the young age of 5, we had no choice but to put him to sleep.
For me, it was so unfair. I held him, family there also, and listened to him take his last breath before lapsing into his coma, followed about half a minute later by the vet nodding his head that his heart finally quit.
My life spiraled down, I went on anti-depressants. That was over 3 years ago. We now have a little girl named Heidi – a 10 week old Saint Bernard.
Don’t kid yourself – feelings that you can’t even think of getting another dog, that you don’t want to even see another dog – are normal after you have to let a relationship like this go. It taken me 3 full years to reach this point. I never would have thought I’d want to risk the pain in having to say goodbye to another best friend but here I am again. All things take time, so give yourself lots of it. Don’t sell your feelings – those emotional attachments you and Gracie shared, short. Perhaps someday you’ll be able to share the love you had with Gracie to another dog. Perhaps not. And that’s okay. For the longest time I even thought that if we were to ever get another Great Pyr that in some, wacky sorta way I would be doing Theo a “dis-service”, that I was looking for a replacement for him or that it would be in some way disrespecting of his memory. Well, we went to a Great Pyr rescue and looked at 5 that were available (we all decided on different dogs, unfortunately so the adoption didn’t happen) but the point is that I was able to look at them, interact with them, and not withdraw back to the time when we all had to put Theo down.
You’ll never replace Gracie. Dogs, just as humans, are ALL individuals, even within the same breed, or litters for that matter. There was one, and always will be one, Gracie. Jut as there was and always will be one Theodore. So give yourself time. It took me a SOLID 3 years. You’ll know if it’s ever time again – listen to your heart. And if you do ever find yourself seting eyes on that one special dog – you’ll know. Gracie would be proud.
Jeff in Tucson, AZ
February 22, 2012 at 8:54 pm
dykeevolution
Jeff – I’m sorry about your Theo. Also so young, at 5, like Gracie! It is heartbreaking. I still think about her every few days and I’m still trying to remain positive about her time with me here, and think of it as a gift, even though it was shorter than I would have liked.
I have two cats now. When I moved I purposely rented a place that could not have dogs because it just wasn’t a commitment that I wanted to make again during this point in my life. I love the cats, and I am glad to have animals back in my life, but I do know that I will someday again have another pit bull or pit bull mix – and I will rescue that one, just like I did Gracie – and be able to have a relationship with another dog again.
Your words were extremely warm and kind, and I appreciate them. Good luck with Heidi. A 10 week old St Bernard must be the cutest thing ever!