The Grace of Grief: Today is first day without my little K-9 buddy Jose... birth date unknown to July 29, 1998 Came into my life in October, 1992. I am putting info. directly from email here... I had some things mixed up about where he came from before he came into my life... and this exert from email kinda clears it up. --- "I hope it's okay if I tell you the true story of his life before you. I know when you got him and Missy, it was a very chaotic time...and easy to get the story mixed up. Actually, I think you will be more amused and happy with his true story - it fits him. Anyway, it was Missy that I found while out horse backriding. We called the people whose property I had seen her on, (she was chasing me on a 17.1 hand Thoroughbred), and they said she was a stray and we could have her. (This was while I was visiting my parents one summer.) A few weeks later, after I was back in home, my parents saw Jose on TV. He was on the news, being advertised as available for adoption at the pound. My father was so taken by Jose that the next morning, he went down to the pound at 5 AM, and waited there to be first in line for it to open so that he could adopt Jose. I guess Jose and Missy hit if off well enough and weren't too jelous. They really were companions to both my parent's, then just to my mom, until both parents were in nursing homes, which is where you came into their lives." He had been at his previous home since about 1985, until the elderly woman who had given him a home became ill and bedridden. The care takers of this elderly woman had moved Jose outside where he had litle shelter from the elements and occasionally recieved scaps. (from what I understand). The daughter of the elderly woman, who lived out of state, learned of Jose's dreadful fate and grim future, thus contacted me for help. Thus Jose came into my life. (...The two dogs were inseperable until a slite mishap when Missy disappeared. Jose searched for his closest companion for a full 7 days. His grieving was almost unbearable as was my concern for his and Missy's wellfare.) In the beginning each of the two dogs were cautious of every move, like two lost children. With lots of love and plenty of patience, they soon learned to trust me. Many people have had similar stories, where a beloved pet is not only a member of the family but as in my case, the only close family they have. The following paragraphs are my account for one such beloved pet, for myself and others who have gone through this difficult experience when it's time to let go and the grace of grief.

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He has gone on, to where ever special little spirits go, when they get done here on this planet...

I had to let him go, his quality of life, in this world, was less than he deserved, worsening every day, as his little body tried to keep up with his adventurous spirit.

I had already adjusted to the fact that my little bed bug wasn't beside me during the night, as his brain tumor had disabled his ability to know about heights, among other things.

I still listen for him, out of habit, for those times when he would need me to help him get un-lost, especially during the night.

His ordinary calmness had also been replaced; he had developed a new habit of pacing, aimlessly, wandering, almost constantly, during long restless hours over the last 4 weeks. It was as though he was searching for something that just wasn't there.

It all began slowly and gradually with just a little balance or coordination difficulty. Then other problems gradually increased on daily basis. I got my hopes way high when on a couple of really good days he seemed to be all better and was his usual self, but the nights that followed were worse than ever as though some cruel punishment to delude us had occurred.

The little chunks of dog food are round and therefore rolled away from him when he tried to eat; worse were his attempts to get a drink of water as he would fall face first into it.

He never gave up, never got frustrated and the more I tried to help him the more independent and spunky he got. Never in a snappy way just more determined than ever to do whatever he was trying to do.

During this ordeal, Jose and I developed new skills of communication : when he was thirsty, I got down on the floor next to him, to hold him steady, as he struggled to get just the right distance for his tongue, and not his nose, to reach the water.
And, when he was hungry, I held his food still for him in the palm of my hand, kinda popping it in his mouth when he got lined up just right.

He did get realistic about trying to stand on three legs to pee, as that was a hopeless cause, and sometimes he would loose his balance and roll like a ball when he tried to do the poop thing. That was something I couldn't help him with cuz he had to do his little "circle the wagons" thing first or it just didn't work right.

When I tried to calm him by holding him, in times of obvious distress, he struggled to get down and was more determined than ever to continue his independence. This wasn't like him at all cause he loved attention and would take all he could get, even rolling over to have his tummy scratched.

The part I miss most are those special times when he was somewhat calm and I would pick him up and hold him and kiss him on the top of his little head.
One time I sang to him, very softly, trying to help him rest...
" Have I told you lately that I love you, have I told you lately that I care...make my worries disappear"
. Didn't hardly get through it though, cuz I started to cry, so I just kinda walked around with him like a mother with a sleepless baby, and hummed the rest of the song as he listened.

In a kind of far off way, he knew what was going on.
He was more content to just pace, like looking for something or trying to escape some unseen thing, especially that last week.
Trying to make him as comfortable as possible, I barricaded places where he could get hurt or stuck. One night he managed to get wedged between file cabinet and the wall then cried till I woke up to come help him out. I even padded sharp corners of desks and other immovable objects, it was incredible the things he got himself into, knocking things over, finding ways out of places where I thought he couldn't get out.
He was terribly incoherent in that last week.

So why am I going over all this stuff?
I am single and childless...
I'm like a mom to my doggies.
Geez I try to do things around the house and nothing is the same without him.
I have a final exam tomorrow and try to focus but thoughts of him constantly interrupt my train of thought.
I tried to force theses thoughts from my brain, but the harder I try, the stronger they get...
So ... I give up...
instead...
I reflect on our time together:

His own unique way of just Being. His joyous character, even when he was sick, and what a blessing he was to have around.
I think about how much he taught me:
about Serenity, simple pleasures of snacks, and car rides and naps.

He was a little dog, in a big dog world,determined to survive in a dog eat dog world,
where the only thing smaller than him was baby kitties who have bigger weapons. I feel an inner chuckle remembering how he would chase off big dogs, when they touched his sidewalk, with his gruff little bark that meant he was serious, then mark his turf and kick up the ground with his back legs like someone dusting their hands after finishing some task once and for all.

He could tell you how bad he needed Cheetos, ice cream or other snacks with those worrisome eyes, that would melt even the hardest of hearts, but seldom, if ever, making a single sound if not for a single sigh.

He always wanted to go; if he heard my car keys he was up in a flash, and if he heard his leash he was beside himself, anxious as a kid anticipating Christmas morning.

At one point all I could do today was just lay down and feel the emptiness, but I don't regret having him euthenized.
I say this part for anyone who wonders, because it was hard to know when to let go, and it was not till after all attempts to help him recover had been made, as well as the fact that a couple of times he had awoke, from his seldom reached state of rest, almost screaming in fear or pain or both. That as well as knowing his condition would not have ever, ever, no matter what, ever, gotten better, only worse, was the final decision, that was when it was obvious.

He was hurting those last couple of days and would have gone to the bitter end in pain if I had let him.

Some folks have asked do I want another dog, well I have two others, there is just no replacing Jose. I've never known a spirit like him and possibly never will. Oddly there is some sort of grace in grief, of sitting through the pain knowing the suffering is over, feeling blessed to have had him in my life even for what seems like too short of a time that shows no mercy.

He was love unconditional and therefore he was loved unconditionally.
by Jose's mom,
Dances Soaringsong
P.S. I aced the test in defiance.

And life go's on...
I woke up yesterday morning...reached for him, he was not there and I remembered he would not ever be there again...

Tonight the dogs bugged me to give them biscuits...
I got out three...
oh yea...
I only needed two...
This is not getting easier...
time isn't playing fair...
I miss him and there is no relief at this moment...
this is not fair.

I prayed from the beginning, that I could have clear answers as to what to do for this little guy. I also prayed that he would not suffer in life or in dieing.
I broke down and bawled my eyes out several times... I begged, at some times when it got closer to the end...I begged, "please God I cannot do this...please, please I begged."

I am still in some grief, anger is part of it, but seeing the glass half full is something I have learned is more important for times like this, and am grateful more than I can say.

On closure: At a special gathering I was permitted ceremony in honor of him.
It has been now 2 and 1/2 weeks...
Last night I arrived home after camping out in the mountains for 4 days, and as I drifted off to sleep, Jose visited me, in my altered state, from the spirit world. I saw him as though he was in this world, he was sitting in front of me, panting, smiling, and peaceful.

I felt him tell me that he is in a better place than he has ever been, and he had come to reassure me because I kept having thoughts that he would awaken, that he was not really dead and find himself cold and afraid in some strange place.

He was like a child to me and maternal instincts go on, when the life, that was, does not.
I felt comforted by this phenomena that he would visit me in this way, as often as necessary in order for me to have faith with my belief ie.

"All Dogs do go to Heaven"