The last truly “happy face” picture I have of him, brought on by a bowl full of his favorite foods (cheese, banana, and strawberry) right before we left for the last visit to the vet.

It really feels like nothing will ever be completely right again. Everywhere I turn, I’m looking for Timmy. Any door I open in the apartment, anything I do…because he was always there. The worst part is when I get home from work. In the past year he had lost his hearing, so most of the time he would just sleep in front of the door until I came home. He’s gone. And then there’s the bathroom door. He never really came in the bathroom with me, for any reason, whether I was taking a shower or getting ready for work or what have you. He would just lie down outside the door and jump up to give me loves when I was finished. And now…he’s not there.

So much love. But he was so very tired.

I know I did the right thing. Because he was hurting. The cancer, when it finally showed, deteriorated him so fast I couldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. His poor body just finally gave up on digesting food, no matter how much he tried to eat. I held him (as best you can a 70 pound dog) as the vet gave him the injection that would ease any discomfort, and then still for the final one that stopped his heart. I know he felt easier and comfortable at the end.

The morning after getting the diagnosis, I took him to Mill Mountain Park. We people watched and shared an apple (one of his favorite snacks).

But it doesn’t make it any easier. I miss him. He was my happy little “alarm clock” for 10 years. Getting up in the morning is suddenly a lot, a lot harder. I can barely think of anything else. Nothing feels right. Nothing at all. He was my soulmate dog, the one who could read my mind, the one who kept me company through some of the most difficult times of my teenage and early married years. When no one else was or could be there, Timmy was. Now he’s gone, and it feels like nothing will ever, ever be right again.

I’d wanted a picture like this of us for a long time, but never found the time/person to take it. I realized there was no time left now, and so I put the camera on auto. It may be a bad photo, but the memories it invokes are beyond priceless.


18 thoughts on “Heartbreak

  1. Oh, I am so sorry to hear this. I love my Angel so deeply and dread the day that will eventually come. I hope you read the post on Catherine’s The Daily Round, which is devoted to her dogs. My thoughts are with you; our four legged companions are such a gift in our lives.


  2. I am so, so sorry for your loss … I still can’t drive by the vet’s office where my Blue was put to sleep without choking up, and it’s been five years. I don’t think the hurt ever fully goes away, and people who haven’t loved a pet like that can’t comprehend it. Thoughts and prayers for you.


    • It’s so true. Someone at work asked me what was wrong, and when I explained they shrugged, said “It happens,” turned and walked away. I realize not everyone is so fond of animals, but they can at least try to be a little decent.


  3. I’m so sorry for your loss. Just remember, there are plenty of dog lovers out there who DO understand your loss. And I think the last picture in your post is perfect. Our thoughts are with you.


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