In sickness and in health

On Saturday night Dave and I had a stupid argument fueled by exhaustion and hormones. We'd spent all day doing errands and chores, we'd taken the kids to IKEA way past their bedtimes, we'd gotten home late and hungry. I said that he didn't do enough nice things for me; he stormed off to the couch to avoid further confrontation. We both knew I was being ridiculous and unfair.

The next morning he did the kindest, most selfless thing he may have ever done for me, when he laid down on the dirty floor of the vet's office and gently cradled our dog as he quietly passed away.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't watch. I was an absolute wreck. And I know, I know, he didn't want to do it either, but he made the choice to protect and shelter me instead of giving into his own fears and hesitations.

I will never again say that my husband never does anything nice for me. Do I really need flowers? Or gifts? Those things would be graciously received and appreciated, yes. But what I really need – and what I shamefully always seem to forget I already have – is a husband who cherishes and loves me, and while he doesn't always say it the way I prefer to hear it, I must choose to just BELIEVE it. I must choose to see it.

I choose to see it in the way he loves his children. I choose to see it in his efforts at work. I choose to see it when he interacts with and enjoys my family.

And now I've seen that raw, powerful, protective love in a way I never wanted to see it. Does my husband do nice things for me? No. He goes beyond nice. He is kind and considerate and devoted and brave. He acts with integrity and he puts his wife before himself without fail. Without fail.

** ** ** **

The details are as such: We first took Hambone to see the vet only a week ago. He was yelping and whimpering and couldn't get comfortable enough to lie down without jumping up and yelping again. The vet said he thought it was probably muscular, that he needed to rest, and gave us a bunch of prescriptions that he said would start working within two days.

Except they never really did. Oh, there were times we must have fooled ourselves into thinking he was getting better, but he was always stiff and slow and in obvious pain despite the use of two painkillers and then on Sunday morning he couldn't even walk. He shook and trembled when he finally got upright and his front leg knuckled over and dragged behind him and he was so frightened that he peed on the carpet in the upstairs hallway and he has never – not even when we first got him – had an accident in the house. Dave rushed him to the emergency vet and called me a hand-wringing hour or two later with those five words that no one ever wants to hear from a medical professional: “There's nothing we can do.” Hambone had either a ruptured or slipped disc in his back. Surgery would be costly (more than $10,000) and the neurological workup to prepare for the surgery would probably set us back another $3k. All that, and there was no guarantee it would even work.

We got a second opinion from our regular vet, who took the time to speak to us even though he was not even on call that morning. He talked to Dave for a long time, and assured him that letting him go was the best decision. He understood that we didn't want our dog to be in pain, and as a father of two little kids himself, he understood what $13,000 means to a young family.

I met Dave at our vet's office a half-hour later, puffy-eyed and distraught. Hambone was nothing but a memory by noon.

** ** ** **

What is there to write about losing a pet? Hambone was the most wonderful, patient, fantastic dog, and that's putting it mildly. It is going to take a long time for us to heal. I could tell you a million sweet stories, relay a thousand cute anecdotes, but I'd never be able to communicate how fond we were of him; how much we adored him. Maybe the worst thing was the suddenness - how we went to bed one night thinking he would surely get better, and not twelve hours later we found ourselves signing a form for a group cremation and accepting a pamphlet on how to talk to children about death. I do miss him something fierce. He was my buddy, my constant companion, my shadow. He loved us, he devoted himself to us, and we loved him so so much in return. And that's all I can really say right now. I'm not ready to delve into the memories when the ache and emptiness of losing him is so fresh.

** ** ** **

There are things I do want to remember about the day we lost him. I want to remember how his warm body felt against mine when I curled up against him on that hard clinic floor. I want to remember how soft his fur was, how his snout smelled clean and familiar when I kissed it. I want to remember that he was surrounded by people who were treating him – and us – with the utmost respect and care. I want to remember that we made the right decision to end his suffering.

And I want to remember how, in his death, I was given an opportunity to grow as a wife. To watch as my husband did something beautiful and courageous as a gesture of love to me. I will never forget that gesture of protection and genuine love, as long as I live, though my heart breaks with the knowledge that I had to learn it like this.

Comments

[Kristen Schopp]

delurking to give you >> I'm so so sorry for your loss.

[HereWeGoAJen]

Oh, we will all miss him so much. I'm so sorry. Sending much love to all of you.

[Lora]

Emily,

I'm so, so sorry for your loss. I don't know you or your family, but had tears running down my cheeks reading this post.

Losing a pet is hard. The fact that this happened so quickly makes it that much more difficult.

With sympathy & virtual hugs,

Lora

[Angela]

I am so, so sorry for your loss. What a wonderful husband you have.

[H]

I'm so so so sorry for your family's loss. We put our beloved dog down in April after we determined, to the best of our ability, that he was suffering from dementia and was in constant distress due to his confusion and fear. My husband did the same thing, stayed in the room after the kids and I said goodbye. He comforted him in his last moments and I am so thankful he was there for him. We just scattered his ashes a week ago and the pain is still just below the surface for me. I work at home and he was my shadow and my buddy for his entire life, and I loved him so. I understand your pain and deep loss. Remember that you did what was best for Hambone. You loved him so much that you were able to make this compassionate and merciful decision.

[blueviolet]

That was so very touching and I'm terribly sorry to hear of your pet's passing.

[Diane]

This brought tears to my eyes, Emily. Everything you have ever said about Hambone has been filled with love.

Dave sounds incredible. Love to you all.

[Parsing Nonsense]

I'm so sorry Emily, that just sucks. What a great lesson you took away from it though.

Hambone was a good boy, and he was fortunate to be a part of your family.

[Jessica]

Oh, I'm so sorry. Losing a pet is just awful and I am just so sorry.

[Jessica]

My heart is breaking for you and your family. I'm so sorry for your loss.

[wendyr]

Oh, I am so, so, so sorry. I can't even convey how sorry I am. I grew up with dogs, and I know how difficult it is to let them go. But, they all passed away from old age. Losing an animal suddenly is just devastating. Just know, you did what was best.

Last year, we had to make the decision to put one of our cats to sleep. My husband and I both were with him when he was put down, and it was one of the saddest moments in my life. I feel your pain, and time does help.

[Life of a Doctor's Wife]

Again, I am so very sorry. But what a wonderful revelation you found amid such sadness.

Thinking of you and your family.

[juliloquy]

I'm so sorry, Emily. This is a lovely tribute.

[Careigh Sautter]

This post really hit home for me. I just had to have my Saint Bernard *Diesel* put to rest September 20th...2 weeks ago today :( He was only 5 1/2 and I was the one curled up on the floor with him because my X husband just couldn't stay in the room. It was the hardest thing I have ever done. Your post worded my feelings better than I could ever even try. I so totally know how you are feeling...each night I am still sleeping with a HUGE stuffed Saint Bernard my x husband brought to me the following day he passed...and I have Diesels collar on it :( God Bless you and your family, it's terribly hard.
Sincerely,
Careigh

[Elizabeth]

Oh Emily. I am giving you back an extra big hug in Chicago just for this post.

[Olivia]

Emily, I am so sorry. Your stories about Hambone would never leave anyone with any doubt that he was greatly loved and an amazing friend.

[Miss_Matthews]

I'm teary from this beautiful post. A tribute to your husband and your sweet Hambone. I'm so so sorry.

[Jackie]

I am holding back tears reading this. I'm so sorry for your loss.

[Cristina]

I am so sorry for your loss!

[beyond]

losing a beloved family pet is heart breaking. so sorry.

[lindsay]

Aww I am so sorry. Hambone sounds like he was a wonderful family dog.

[Jenny]

Ugh here I am crying now. Rest in peace Hambone. Y'all did exactly the right thing. And hooray for that hubby of yours. What a guy!

[Rose]

I stopped reading because I started crying :( I'm so sorry :(

[NGS]

I'm sorry for your loss. I'm happy you can see the lessons learned and that you have so many happy memories, though.

[jonniker]

Oh, Emily. So much love to all of you. I'm so sorry for your loss. May Hambone be hanging out in heaven with a giant, well, hambone, waiting to see you all again.