So you may have noticed, I’m not my usual cheerful self.
Another beloved pet has left our family. It’s been hard to lose three pets in less than a year. Granted, they were all in their elder years. My cat Ollie was almost 19 (see here)! And there was Sparky (almost 14 years) back in October 2010 (more on him later).
This time we lost Oreo. Our beautiful dalmatian. Our girlie! The love muffin.
We adopted her the day before Thanksgiving in 2003. My husband and I decided many years earlier to adopt all our Dalmatians. They are a mischievous breed and not for everyone, so many of them are given up for adoption. She came from New Jersey and was a little freaked out to be left behind by her former owners (who wanted the best for her). I’m glad they decided we would be her new family.
She was six years old at the time. Super lovie and naughty, naughty. Like all Dals, she loved to steal food. She once ate an entire bowl of apples. Later, a brand new loaf of rye bread from Panera was consumed in one sitting.
Ah, good times. I could tell you more stories, but we don’t have all day.
Eventually, she chilled out. But we were always vigilant. Dalmatians never forget food and will forever swipe anything you’re dumb enough to leave at nose length.
She loved all of us, but her most favorite person was my husband. And he loved her right back. Sometimes, I teased him that he loved her more than me.
In 2005, we adopted Sparky from a shelter. He had been abandoned and was a little loony. He really wanted me to be the only person in his family (I was his number one girl). We made the painful decision to put him to sleep last October, when his body just crapped out on him.
We faced the same dilemma with Oreo. No matter how sick or decrepit, it never makes the decision any easier.
I still have two cats left – a brother/sister pair and I know when their time comes, it will hurt just as much. Here’s hoping, I won’t be writing that post anytime soon.
Come visit me next week when I hope to have much better news to share.
Feel free to leave me a comment your furry loved ones, past and present.
For all the good news I’ve had in the last few weeks, it was invetiable that something bad would come along. Sorry, but that’s just the way it is sometimes. At least in my life, the good is always tempered with the bad.
For the last 18 and half years, I’ve had a beloved furry companion – my cat Ollie. It seems like he has always been in my life. In fact he was a year older than my first born son. And yes, I did say was.
Earlier in the week, we were told that he had a terminal condition. You know the kind that can’t be fixed. So we took him home, made him comfortable and gave him even more love than he normally received already. But today, he told us he was ready to go. And, even though it was so hard, we did.
Ollie didn’t pass alone. We were there for him, petting him, telling him we loved him. I’m proud of my fifteen year old son, he stayed too. My oldest declined to come. But that was okay. He was there when our 13 old dalmatian, Sparky, died last October. I’m proud of my sons. I know at their age, I wouldn’t have had the courage to stay in that room and watch a beloved pet die.
I wish I could say I won’t have to do this again. But, I will. At least three more times. We still have two, 12 year old cats (brother and sister, no less) and another 13 year old Dalmatian. And I expect it will still hurt, just like it did for all our other departed pets (Nestlè, Dottie, Captain).
But, that’s what love is – staying together – good moments and bad. And I wouldn’t trade any of those 18 and half years. They were all great and worth these moments of pain I’m feeling now.