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This is my best bud Winston.  The first thing my wife and I did after we bought our house was adopt Winston from a rescue. He was nine months old and had been an owner release to a kill shelter. Some people should not own dogs - apparently Winston had a minor intestinal bug that had been making potty training slightly difficult, but a course of antibiotics cleared it right up, and he never had an accident in our house until near the end of his life. Winston was an anxious, utterly untrainable goofball, but the sweetest dog ever. There was not a single aggressive bone in his body - except on walks, for some random reason, he'd always start growling ferociously at German Shepherds. But for any human, he'd immediately roll over on his back for belly scritches. He loved his whole "pack" - me, my wife, and my son - but my wife was definitely "his person" and he was under her feet every day. Winston also loved to eat. I'm convinced he kept going the last couple of months just to get to the next meal. Carrots were his favorite - we could open a bag of carrots in the kitchen, and he'd come running and whining.  Over the years, he survived a knee replacement and a very scary bout with leptospirosis (which he almost certainly caught because he never met a disgusting pile of rotting organic garbage that he didn't want to scarf down). Otherwise he was healthy and active throughout his life. In the end, he slowed down and got old. Years of jumping caught up with his hips and limited his mobility (and led to a lot of bathroom accidents, which we patiently cleaned up). Over the course of the last six months, he became increasingly blind, deaf, and anxious because he had trouble keeping track of where his people were in the house. His 17th birthday would have been August 29 - beyond geriatric for a cocker spaniel - but he didn't quite make it. We had him put to sleep yesterday morning, using a very kind service that came to our home (he hated going to the vet). He drifted off to sleep mid-chew with his last treats - including his first taste of chocolate and multiple beloved carrots - and his favorite person petting his head. Winston was a constant in our lives. He was there when our son came home from the hospital, and grew up alongside him. I can't imagine this house without him. It's a darker, lonelier, sadder place without his energy. I am absolutely gutted. I feel like a broken person for even saying this, but my mom died in April after a long illness, and this feels ten times worse in terms of raw, immediate grief. Goodbye, old friend. You made my life a ton better, and I am honored you let me be a part of your pack. 
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Aug 9, 2022 17:51
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| # ¿ May 9, 2024 15:15 |
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Slugworth posted:Grief is grief, and nobody should feel like they need to feel specific ways about certain losses. For what it's worth, I think a lot of grief has to do with change. Our parents tend not to be a daily part of our lives at a certain point, so their loss, sad as it is, changes less in our day to day. Thanks. That's genuinely helpful. Day three, and not getting easier. I keep breaking down. I'm trying to get some work done, but I am still walking into rooms expecting to hear his collar jingle or see him trot round the corner. I know we are fortunate to have had him in the family as long as we did, and beyond fortunate that he had an easy death at home rather than a mad rush to an emergency vet in the middle of the night. It's still just awful, though.
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Aug 10, 2022 15:14
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