Memory only slumbers—never dies. ~Thomas Paine, English-born American Founding Father and political activist
My soul-dog Dallas has been at the Rainbow Bridge for nearly three-and-a-half years now, and not a single day has passed that I haven’t thought of him.
Getting Monkey two years ago has been a help … but I guess it’s true what dog breeders are quick to point out: Dogs aren’t interchangeable.
One dog can’t replace another. One dog’s personality, quirks, appearance, habits, and so forth is completely different from another’s.
Even if they’re the same breed. Or same sex. Or same size.
Even if they have a similar “look.”
The other day, Monk had to go to the vet for a routine vaccination.
Dallas always submitted. Dignified. Resigned.
Not that he enjoyed getting poked with a needle, but he accepted it, trusting me and the vet.
Not Monkey.
Nope, he was spoiling for a fight. Yanking his arm away when the vet tech tried to hold him. Squirming and wriggling and spinning in circles. Giving me the side-eye for not intervening on his behalf.
Worst of all, the exam rooms were full, so since it wasn’t a “doctor visit,” they escorted us into the “Comfort Room.”
You know, the one where they ease ailing pets across the threshold to the Bridge.
Gulp.
I looked around at the pamphlets explaining the procedure. At the small wooden boxes displayed for the cremains. At the quotes on posters on the wall. At the plush sofa, pillows, and box of tissues.
And I found myself reliving March 2, 2020, all over again.
If not for Monk’s antics, I’d have broken down and sobbed uncontrollably.
Instead, I knelt down and focused on the poor, scared fur-baby who needed me.
And it wasn’t long before we both were smiling again.
Whew, glad that’s over, Mama. Aren’t you?
Musings by an ND Domer's Mom 
Debbie, it’s so hard for me to fathom that it’s been over three years since Dallas has been at the Rainbow Bridge. It seems like it was only yesterday.
“One dog can’t replace another. One dog’s personality, quirks, appearance, habits, and so forth is completely different from another’s.”
So true! And that’s what makes each one unique in their own way. I truly believe our pets are with us to teach us things. At one time I had two cats who were related (mother and son). Yet, they were completely different. And I mean completely. I had a much easier (sympatico) relationship with Jerry. However, it was Zoe who taught me the most about various things I needed to learn because are relationship was not as easy.
“Instead, I knelt down and focused on the poor, scared fur-baby who needed me.
And it wasn’t long before we both were smiling again.”
Loved that! As well as the smiling face of Monkey!
As I’ve share with you many times, that canine breed has the most sweetest and lovable faces.
Have a fantastic Monday and week, my friend!
X to you and Mr. Monkey
I agree with your first statement, Ron. On one hand, it feels like I’ve been without Dallas for ages; on the other, it seems like just yesterday. The heart never truly forgets, does it?
You’ve written before about your tight relationship with Jerry, but I don’t recall hearing much about Zoe. I imagine she was happy just knowing how close you and her son were though.
Shelties have the sweetest faces — I’ve never seen one who doesn’t. I think that’s one reason breeders do the puppy-picking for you; they know you just can’t choose one over another!
I hope your heat wave has broken by now! xx
I can’t believe so much time has passed. And isn’t it interesting how specific triggers can make those memories so fresh again? For the most part, I go through my days not thinking about Dixie Rose, but occasionally I’ll ‘forget’ that she’s not around, and feel the pang of loss again. It’s a little amusing that it most often happens in the produce section of the grocery store, when I pass by the wheat grass and think, “I should take some fresh grass home.” Then, I remember.
I can imagine that your situation would have been even more sharply painful. I pass by Dixie’s vet’s office quite often, but her vet has retired, and without another pet, there’s no reason to visit. That said, I always remember — and try not to dwell too long on those last minutes I spent with her there, lest I have to avert some tears of my own.
Aw, Linda, this is so poignant. You’ve been without Dixie Rose for lots longer than I’ve been without Dallas, and yet I know I, too, am going to miss him forever. He, like your cat, was special and snagged a hold on my heart that nothing else can trump.
I think you’re right about not putting owners and pets into the “death chamber” for routine appointments, regardless of how long it’s been since their pet passed. I’d have rather had Monk jabbed in the parking lot than subject ourselves to this trauma!
Phew, poor Monkey! Never fun for either dog or human.
That’s so true, Laurie. Monk’s not the best patient. It usually takes at least one or two techs to hold the little guy down. All his anxieties come to the foreground as soon as we walk in the building.
Three and a half years already? How can that be? I know what you mean about thinking about him every day. I think about Katie every day, multiple times, too. I feel guilty missing her so much when I’ve got little Penny right here trying to make me feel happy. And she DOES make me laugh and smile and sometimes I’m even happy while I watch her play. But in the back of my mind Katie sits and I still miss her. If I were giving someone else advice I’d tell them not to worry, this is normal, she was special, Penny will be special in other ways, let it all just happen, it’s OK to think about Katie while you enjoy Penny…yada yada yada. But it’s still hard, right?
I don’t know if my vet has a room like that, but if I were a vet I wouldn’t put anyone in there that’s ever had a dog leave from a room like that. Maybe I just wouldn’t ever put anyone in there that didn’t request it. We let Katie fly free in our backyard. I’m glad we were able to do that even though I think of her every single time I look out a back facing window. It’s worth it to know she wasn’t frightened and just relaxed away.
Darn. Now I’m crying again and Penny is sleeping, so not available for tear licking.
You know, I don’t think Dallas was frightened at the end. I think he was just looking to me and the vet to make his misery go away. Regardless, he and Katie are both free now, and it’s comforting to know they still lurk in our minds and hearts. And always will!
On top of all this, poor Monk had a bad reaction to the vaccine (Lepto), and we were back in the clinic this morning after he vomited three times over the weekend. Doggone it, he’s NOT a good candidate for all these vaccines, and I just feel so guilty listening to the vet’s recommendations (rather than listening to my common sense). Did he really need that shot?? And the “treatment” — one inoculation for pain/fever and another for nausea/vomiting — cost nearly $200! Nope, no discount for Monk’s pain and misery either. Grrr.
I’ve always said you can’t replace a dog, you only fill a void that’s left behind. Just like children, no two are alike! Unlike with my children/grandchildren, however, I can admit I’ve had favorite dogs. (not that I haven’t loved them ALL)
I got a card in the mail last week reminding me it was time for Suzy’s 3-yr. rabies shot. I had to call the vet and remind them that Suzy died last year. Someone messed up. I haven’t told them about Sam yet, though I feel certain he “gone”.
That is the sweetest face at the end of this post.
Thank you, Kelly, for confirming that no two dogs (or children) are alike! I love Monk, but he’ll never be Dallas (and perhaps that’s a good thing — Dallas wasn’t perfect, after all).
I’m sorry you got that reminder in the mail. Your loss of Suzy must still be raw (I know I cried for a solid year after Dallas passed). I’m still hoping Sam will turn up on your porch, maybe a bit bedraggled and tired but with interesting stories he’ll never tell!
Monk sure looks like a doll baby. Not sure I would want to go into a comfort room either. Lucy crossed in our living room on her favorite couch, so there is that memory with us always. She had such a peaceful trip that the memory isn’t bad it is just heartbreaking that we had to give up a member of our family so I know how you feel. I’m looking forward to the time when the memories are all smiles. Hugs.
John, I’m glad Lucy’s crossing wasn’t traumatic … for her or y’all. I know you gave her a good life, and it’s so hard letting them go. Give it time. The happy memories one day will take over and erase the sadness. In the meantime, it’s only normal to grieve a beloved family member.
Thank you, Debbie.
True love doesn’t fade with time. 💕 Glad you have Monk there to ease your heartache.
This should be one of those “feel good” posters, Eliza — I love its sentiment! Thank you so much.
I so emphathize. I am sorry for your loss. We have to take Herbert (the cat) to board at The Vets soon and I dread leaving him.
Thanks for empathizing, Cindy. Sounds like you might be going on vacation — hope you have safe travels and a relaxing, wonderful time! Poor Herbert — is this just for boarding, or “the other”? I hope it’s the former.
It’s hard, that visit back to the vet’s office afterwards. Mine is a group practice so it was a year or more before I met the vet again who took care of Tuppence’s passing, and it sent me right back to that day. But as you say, the best way is to concentrate on the one we’re with. It doesn’t stop the memories, but it helps.
You’ve explained it well, FF. You know, we go along doing our thing when all of a sudden, the memories wash over us. I can appreciate when that happens … kind of feels like Dallas nudged me to let me know he’s close by. But having those memories forced on us by visiting “the scene of the crime” is another story entirely.
How unfortunate to be put in the “comfort room” for Monkey’s vaccination. But I’m glad you were able to be there for Monkey when he needed you in spite of coping with your own memories. It seems like you and Monkey are well on the road to creating your own collection of stories to tell. 🙂
Thank you, Barbara. He is kind of growing on me, ha! And just recently, the vet congratulated him for choosing his human wisely. She told him I am “completely devoted” to him — such a nice way of putting it, don’t you agree?!
I do! You’ve been through a lot together and your devotion to each other is very apparent!
It’s certainly been challenging though. Perhaps moms always have a soft spot for the “child” who needs them most?
Monkey you have become a beautiful adult! Yorkie and I have missed you and your Mama. Take care of each other now!!
We’ve missed you two as well! Thanks for stopping by … and letting us know you did. Drop by again so we can keep in touch!
I was hospitalized ICU for 12 days in January diagnosed with Congestive Heart Failure. I’ve only been able to keep up with Barbara’s blog and Linda’s blog. Today I got caught up with your blog. I had to go all the way back to August of last year. And then read it forward. A lot has happened in the year with your family as well as with mine! I relate to so much. I hope to be able to keep up with Monkey, you, grandma and your son as we all sort through health and healing. ❤️🩹
I’ll say some prayers for you as well, TD. I knew you’d been absent from blogging-land for a while, but I didn’t realize it had been for so long. I’m sorry to hear that, and I do hope you’re on the mend now!