2017.

March 14, 2017. One of the worst days of my life. It was around 4am, I heard a huge thump on the floor. Loudon, my 3 year old pit mix, fell off the bed. My initial reaction was a giggle, like dude..watch out for the edge of the bed! He didn’t get back up, I called to him and he didn’t moved. When Bailey, my older pit, joined him on the floor I knew something was wrong. I turned the light on to see Loudon laying on the rug, his head shaking back and forth, uncontrollably. I dropped to my knees next to him and cradled him. I knew something was very wrong. I sat with him for a bit before getting him into the car and to the ER Vet in St. Paul.

I sat with the vet on duty, she kept asking me if he had gotten into anything poisonous as a common reaction is something in the brain that causes the shaky syndrome that he had going on. I couldn’t think of anything and was wracking my brain to try and figure it out. They drew blood, did scans of his head and body then brought him back into the room I was sitting in. They brought in blankets for us to sit on and he sat in between my legs with his shaky head on my chest. My tears rolling off my face onto his nose. It’s an amazing thing about animals, they can be in pain or distraught but as soon as they sense their human is having any kind of emotion they put all of that away. Loudon, sweet as he was, felt my tears and looked up at me, licking my face, trying so hard to comfort me. There is no other love like that in the world. None. I called my sister, Tessa, a mess, sobbing trying to tell her where I was and that Loudon was sick, within 30 minutes she was by my side.

I’ve had to step away from writing this twice now. The pain is still so real and the memories burn in my head and stings my heart. I also can’t see my screen.

Within that 30 minutes, the vet had come back in and started the conversation with “I’m sorry.” I don’t fully remember anything that she told me, I was crying to hard and I just knew I was going to lose my pet that day. What I took from it was that Loudon had a blood disease. I could either put him through 4-5 blood transfusions with a 50% survival rate or…I interrupted her crying so hard there was saliva dripping out of my mouth “I can’t let him live like that. That’s not fair.” The vet responded that was the humane thing to do. She asked to take him back into the room to put the IV’s in his leg to start the process. When she left the room I crumbled onto the floor, Tessa rubbing my back, reassuring me I’ve made the right decision. Loudon was brought back in, he got to eat ice cream and peanut butter. We laid him on the floor and I kept my face by his, telling him how much I loved him and how much I would miss him. First injection. Second injection. On March 14, 2017, after $2000 and mass confusion about what had even happened, I left the ER, without my Loudon Rufus. My pal was gone.

This happened two weeks to the day that my youngest human left, for the first time. I had been grappling with how I should have done it differently, did she know how much I loved her? Was I ever going to feel whole again? It was two weeks of deep depression.

Then Loudon. On my drive home from the vet I was crying so hard that I almost threw up. I slammed on my breaks  and stumbled out of my car, hyperventilating and dry heaving. I fell to my knees in the street and covered my face and tried to catch my breath. When I got home, my mom was there. She had changed my sheets, brought me soup and was cleaning. I fell into my bed, clutching Loudon’s collar. Bailey and Ceeger laid by me, quietly, knowing their brother was gone. I slept for hours. Woke up to cry then slept again.

It took a couple weeks after this for my brain to really be able to focus and even start to contemplating how to process the past month of my life. The cloud started to slowly lift. If I could do it over I would have stopped trying to fill the voids in my heart and to let the pain be. But, that’s not how this story goes.

After 3 months I took in a foster dog. He was 4, from Texas. I quickly knew I would adopt him and named him Rufus, after Loudon Rufus. He melded into the family well. He did good with Bailey and didn’t give two winks to Ceeger. He was filling that void and giving me that puppy love I was needing. He was immediately protective over me – it was something I had to learn how to manage that behavior and Rufus was a huge 90 pound Pitbull with head the size of a cantaloupe. Rufus would lay on me like a lap dog. He would lay on top of Bailey and cuddle with Ceeger. For being a homeless street dog from TX, he had a heart of gold and so much love to give.

At the time I had a roommate, who Rufus did not take well to. When Mike was in the house Rufus had to be in his crate or on a leash. I would reward him every time he has a positive interaction with Mike. I thought we were getting there and things we getting easier for Rufus. But one day, about a month into him being at home with me, he bit Mike and broke the skin. Rufus had to be put down. I called the rescue to tell them, and verify that Rufus would need to say goodbye. They set up an appointment for us at the UMN Vet school. Again, I called Tessa and she met me there. It’s hard to describe the overwhelming feeling of knowing that you are about to lose another best friend. Since he was a bite risk, they had to muzzle Rufus while putting his IV’s in. They gave me some time with him to say goodbye. When they came back in I requested that they did not muzzle him. I geld him as tight as I could with his head to my chest, whispering in his ear how much I loved him, how grateful I was that he came into my life. I thanked him for trusting me. Thank him for letting me love him. First injection. Second injection. In June 2017, I left the UMN Vet hospital without Rufus.

One of my many flaws is making rash decisions. I constantly have to remind myself to take a step back and think, then think about it again. Since I can remember, I make my best and worst decisions when I am in pain. My brain is so muffled, I can’t see straight and for some reason it thinks that’s the time to decide on anything, everything. The last two weeks of June I got to have my youngest human and her sister visit me. It was a needed relief from the pain I had endured. It was a needed hello to that little human I loved holding onto and missed so much. We had an amazing two weeks together. During all that time I was looking for another new dog. There was still a void that wasn’t filling up.

After I drove the girls back to their mom, I cried my way back to the cities. There had been a dog at the human society that I wanted to see. In all my distress and sadness, I decided to stop to see this big dog. He was a Mastiff and about 120 pounds of love. Since I had my best decision making hat on that day, I left the humane society with Sigmund. Sigmund and Bailey did well together but Sigmund was very interested in Ceeger. I have gates and precautionary barriers up to give those two slow introduction. I always blocked off the basement for Ceeger, that was her safe place and the dogs can’t get down there. Two day later after returning from the grocery store, I went into the house, let Sigmund out of his crate and Bailey outside. I went out to my car to grab another load of grocery bags. When I came in I saw Sigmund in the basement, the barrier was still up so that 120 pound dog jumped over it and down the stairs. I put down my stuff and looked down the stairs to investigate. There he was, with Ceeger’s head in his mouth, gnawing on it like a tennis ball. He wasn’t being aggressive or anything, I full heartedly believe he was playing with her.

By the time I got down the stairs, I was screaming at him, he dropped Ceeger and she ran backwards towards the wall. I dragged Sigmund up the stairs, threw him into his crate then raced back down the stairs. There was Ceeger, in a ball on the floor. Sitting in piss, shit and blood, her right eye hanging out of her head. I scooped her in my arms telling her how sorry I was. That I was an awful mom. That I should have taken better care of her. Crying. Driving like a maniac to the ER Vet, again. I drove like I was in a racing movie, going through red lights, driving on the shoulder, speeding and honking my horn the whole way for people to move out of my way. All the while, Ceeger is next to me, moaning in pain. The ER saw me speed into the parking lot and had the doors open for us. I ran in and handed them her crate, screaming “please help her.” I collapsed on the floor. The janitor came to help me up and bring me into a room.

Ceeger was my first pet as an adult, I bought her from a pet store in Steven’s point WI my senior year of college. She was with her sibling and she bit me. I knew right away that was my cat. From there, she had been with me for 10 years, through thick and thin. Hell or high water, that cat loved me and she took care of me. Mostly by making sure I never slept through a whole night. She was my first animal love. She was my first fur best friend.

First injection. Second injection. On July 10, 2017, the day after my birthday, I lost my crabby Ceeger in the same room I lost Loudon in. She was gone. When I got home I put Sigmund in my car and brought him back to the humane society. His fate was in their hands. I got home and my friends Amee and Karen were there. In the house, Karen picked up Bailey’s poop and vomit. I can’t imagine how scared she must have been. That night I cradled Ceeger and Loudon’s collars and held my Bailey so tight. I’ve almost never been more sad. The next day my friend Sarah came over to help me clean the basement. I hadn’t been back down there. I put on some scrubs and met her at the door. She said ‘you’re not going to help me, I got this. I know you would do the same for me.” I sat outside on my deck, the morning was grey and cloudy. Before I knew it I had woken up, Sarah was gone and everything I feared to see down there was gone. These are true friends. These relationships are what life is about.

Ceeger visited me in my dreams over the next two months. Each time she came to me her body was healing more and more. The last night I felt Ceeger, she was purring under in my arms while sleeping and nibbling on my chin, she always did that. When I ‘woke up’ in my dream, her eye was healed. It wasn’t there but it had healed over, she licked my nose then was gone. She was telling me it was ok, that she wasn’t hurt anymore, that she forgave me and still loved me. I haven’t seen or felt her since.

A few weeks later Bailey stopped eating and started getting sick, everywhere. Projectile vomit and diarrhea all over my house. I took her into the ER and as I came in with her the woman at the front desk said “No. No. You cannot be back here.” They took her to the back and did tests, she had pneumonia. They had to keep her in isolation for 4 days. She had tubes for breathing and eating. I was fortunate at the time to have a job I could work offsite. Every morning I got up at 5:30, went to the ER and worked from 6-2. They put me in one of the waiting rooms and gave me constant updates. I spent my lunch hours laying with her in isolation, singing to her, stroking her that spot on her nose between her eyes; my favorite spot. I would leave to go home and eat dinner then came back and laid with her the rest of the night until I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer. I’d go home, shower and sleep, start over the next day.

She lost so much weight. On day 4, she turned a corner, she was eating the cooked rice and chicken I brought in and she was giving me her sweet little kisses. That day they took her tubes out. The next day she came home. I hand fed her scrambled eggs, chicken, bacon anything to get food in her body. My best friend was coming back to me. Slowly.

The next week my youngest human’s mom called and asked me to take her back. This time I knew to put paramotors around it and required that I would have full custody for two years. She agreed and in 3 weeks, my youngest was going to be back with me. I was going to have her back.

My heart was still heavy, so heavy that when I knew my youngest was coming back, people asked me if I was happy about it. Of course I was, but I had nothing left inside of me. Nonetheless, things were looking up.

School started and Bailey was weak but OK. She got to eat like a queen from then on out she got all the table scraps, bacon and eggs everyday. I held her close every night with my nose close to my favorite spot – I can still smell her. One day when I woke, Bailey was cold to the touch and couldn’t get up to even go to the bathroom. I ran upstairs to wake up my youngest, knowing we had to go to the vet.

When Banfield opened at 7AM we were there, I had to carry Bailey in because she couldn’t walk I had her wrapped in her favorite blanket. The vet tech came out and said, you need to get to the ER. It just couldn’t be, I knew my girl was just not feeling well. When we got to the ER Bailey was actually able to walk in. I was crying and of course my youngest was too. All of a sudden Bailey collapsed onto the ground. I screamed “Someone help us, she’s dying.” And I knew right then I was going to lose her. They took us back to the larger waiting room and came in to tell me what I already knew. It was time for Bailey to go. I called my mom to come get my youngest and bring her to school for me. Bailey laid on a table, wrapped in her blanket and I held her so close. The vet came in, asked if I was ready, of course I was not. First injection. Second injection. On October 6, 2017, I lost my sweet, sweet Bailey Rae. My rock. My comfort, my joy, my security. Bailey was the best dog in the world.

Bailey is the only one of my pets that still comes to see me – I know she is still watching out for me. She comes to my dreams when I am in extreme distress. In my dreams I am usually running around frantic, trying to figure something out and there she is, by my side through all of it. I wake up and want to touch her, but I wake up and she is not there. She will never be here again.

2017 – housed the worst year of my life. I imagine nothing will compare to the amount of pain and sadness. I think about the weight on my heart and just my body, like I was made of stone. Within a week, of losing Bailey, I adopted my Breck Rae. He has been my life saver and companion – he has all these quirks that remind me of all three of my heartbeats that still beat, slowly with love for what I’ve lost. For what I was lucky to embrace in my life. For what I am lucky to have been a part of. My heart beats for Loudon, Rufus, Ceeger and Bailey everyday holding onto the memories of the truest form of unconditional love this world has to offer.

Breck Rae