Coping with Grief: Day 1 - Brace for Impact

One might think based on my history I would know better than to think any of my dogs are immune to disaster. My first dog, a caviar colored terrier mix named Lisa, was adopted unbeknownst to me with Parvo; she passed away in my arms at age seven months. 15 years later, I lost another seven-month-old puppy named Jovi from a sudden brain embolism. Jovi abruptly collapsed into brain death while I was casually running bath water upon return from a business trip. Seven years later my agility rockstar Devo passed away arguably years before his reasonable expiration date. So, I should know better than to think my dogs and I would sashay through life in a protective haute couture bubble.

Yesterday the fubble (faux bubble) burst. 24 hours earlier, Lady Gaga my dock diving champion was rebounding from suspected anti-freeze poisoning. In a bad flashback from the 90’s movie ‘Awakenings’, she sprang back to life, got her party on and then swiftly slipped back into a progress blackout. After three days of IV fluids and pharmaceutical therapy, her kidney values didn’t budge and were off the charts. Net, the damage incurred was too vast for her kidneys to regain function. Add to the poop sandwich the fact that she wouldn’t eat, not even one smelly sardine, not even one little scale. She perked-up, crashed, perked-up, crashed, it felt like Uncle Eddy doing the Hoky Poky at a wedding. Bottom line, Lady Gaga did not have viable kidneys to sustain quality life. If I put off the decision to euthanize her, she would be at risk for a crash complete with seizures that made 1929 seem tame. As a wise veterinarian once told me, “better to leave a day early than a day late.”

How do you know when it is time to let your pet go? My advice, put yourself in their winter booties. If you knew you wouldn’t survive, or would have significantly compromised quality of life, would you want to hang out longer and get hit by a bus, or nosh nachos with a margarita chaser on your own terms and duck painlessly out life’s door? Everyone has their own opinion, but for me, I’d like a salt rim please. So, I push my dogs out of the bus’ path before a collision. No suffering, not ever, not going to happen, not if I have a choice.

Like a good dog mom, I succumbed to the anxiety of impending grief and showed-up at the vet clinic with my skirt on inside out. I brought Lady Gaga home the night before and we spent the morning sitting in her yard, listening to her birdies with faint growls at her squirrels. I looked around my giant agility field of dreams that seemed so empty with only memories of brilliant days and souls gone by. I had a level-headed chat with Lady Gaga. This wasn’t supposed to happen, our journey together wasn’t ready to end, but she was Snow White after eating the poison apple, no prince on a white horse to rescue her.

I knew Gaga didn’t want to go; she is a fighter and would have stuck it out to the very distasteful end. Lady Gaga was one of my life’s greatest gifts. I could see in her eyes Wednesday night her physical body was dying; she knew it too. Emotionally, I believe we were both in shock and disbelief. A mere week before we were celebrating Independence Day in high style. But, life is a thin veil who’s illusions of stability blow open on a whim.

Arriving at the hospital I was still yo-yoing in my decision, more fluid therapy or let her go?? I had a candid discussion with one of my friends that is a well-respected veterinarian. Based on Gaga’s kidney values, she agreed there is too much damage for recovery. I left no stone unturned to help Gaga including a holistic energy healer and even animal communicator. Some may think that sounds like a voodoo crew, but I have seen an Eastern/Western approach to medicine work wonders before.

As I spoke with her veterinarian and had the “what would you do if it were your dog?” conversation, Gaga waxed increasingly lethargic on the exam table. It was time. She was trapped in a body that could no longer sustain her spirit. In my arms we peacefully said goodbye. She drifted away so lightly I didn’t even know she was gone and asked, “next are you going to give her the final shot?”. He already had. I was so focused on helping her cross I didn’t even notice; she still felt alive in my arms. There was no dead weight, there never was with her, only bouyant energetic eccstatic life.

My inside out skirt and I drove home to get Lady Gaga’s son Elvis. I brought him back to the hospital to see his mom and say goodbye. Just like humans, dogs need closure and understanding of death too. Elvis has the exuberance of a California surfer dude. He caught a wave onto the exam table with Gaga and thoroughly gave her a once over sniff. Then he happily consumed a pill pocket and signaled it was time to go hang 10. I’ve never done this before, since I believe a body is merely a shell after a soul departs, but I leaned over Gaga and said, “I know you are not in there, but I love you. I will always love you. You were the brightest light in my life, thank you for being my girl.” I kissed her head and walked away.

I know firsthand a lot about grieving; it is different every time. I had an immediate panic attack with Devo and with Phoebe I barely shed a tear until a tsunami of emotion physically leveled me two weeks later. I don’t know how the process will go coping with Lady Gaga’s sudden and untimely passing, but I am willing to share my experience. I want to help others, and in turn cathartically help myself emerge from one of life’s blackest pools. I will post daily on this blog about my candid recovery from grief. Some days I may write a lot, some days only a few words. Like life, the only thing that is certain is uncertainty.