Most of you know that I had to euthanize Moon last Friday, June 29th, only two months before her 12th birthday. Sadly, this is my reality.
The other reality is that this post may make you tear up. I’m tearing up just writing it, which is why I likely subconsciously put it off until now.
What you may or may not know is that six years and three weeks before this horrible event in my life, I did the same thing with my other two dogs while my ex-husband did the same with our wolf mix. All in the same week. Scully – June 4th (the wolf; she was 10). MacLeod – June 5th (he was 15). K’Lar – June 9th (which was incidentally her 14th birthday). Devastating. The week before my birthday. People don’t understand how I stayed sane.
Well, I haven’t really been sane for quite some time now. My birthday the following week ended up being a three-day celebration.
And last Friday took another notch off my sanity after quite a bit of it shattered over the past three and a half years, which is peppered all over this blog, so I don’t need to explain that. The last of my pack is now gone. There isn’t another dog or any type of pet in the house (unless you count the crickets) to help ease the pain like Moon did for me six years ago. I don’t want another one right now.
I somehow managed another three-day celebration, this time for Moon’s life.
I made the choice because Moon’s back legs were getting worse. It’d reached the point where not only was I helping her stand up, but I also had to help her lie down so she wouldn’t hit the ground so hard. She could still walk, for the most part, but her legs were bowing outward and unstable ground was not her friend. I made the choice for her. If you’ve ever owned a pet, you understand what I’m talking about.
Umi and I are both completely overwhelmed by the show of support from all of you. Umi is especially blown away by the support of friends whom I have never met in person. She doesn’t understand it, much like she doesn’t understand the zombie stuff, but that’s okay. We’ll just smile and nod.
So I thank you, dear friends, for the support, for buying jewelry from me so I could afford the whole thing and get Moon’s ashes. I’m not certain you really understand how important it was to me that you bought items I made rather than donated the cash. It made me feel good because I worked for it. Thank you!
Goodbye, my darling Moonbug. I feel your presence when I walk through the room. I hear your voice as you try to get my attention. And I still cry when I look over the edge of my bed in the morning and don’t see you there. I love you, child o’ mine.
5 thoughts on “My Moonbug”
Beautiful and touching. We have had to make the decision to say good bye to our beloved pets in the past. I take comfort in knowing that they no longer suffer. Our cat, Reilley, was laid to rest under a cherry tree sapling four years ago. The tree has grown tremendously and is a daily reminder of the love our pets share with us. Our sons helped us bury her because I felt is was important they understand the process of grieving. They are convinced she is still keeping an eye on them. Makes for some interesting conversations when friends are over.
So many times when we lose a beloved pet, people will say it’s like losing a member of the family It’s not ‘like’ it… you ARE losing a member of your family. Our dogs have always been like out kids in our hearts and their loss is heartbreaking. Much love to you and Umi, kiddo.
I know too well what dogs mean to family.. as part of the family. You know my thoughts are with you, and Moon’s spirit will always be there for you, that guiding, calming presence when you need it most. One day you may have a new pack, but she will always be there just out of sight, watching and caring for you as she has these last 12 years. Luv ya, hon!
I’m expecting a happy crowd when I get to the Rainbow Bridge (I hope they don’t vote me off the island), and it sounds like you are, too. My sister is giving up her dog (found him a family) because she can no longer afford to feed him, and I feel so awful for her. What is a human without a dog?
You did such a good job of loving Moon. You gave her a nice, big bag of sweetness to take with her. And she left you a nice, big bag of memories. That’s the best there is. 🙂
(I’m sorry it has taken me so long to get to your posts.)
You’re right… *wipes tear away*
I am so sorry to hear that Moon was going through so much pain, and I’m also sorry to hear that you had to put her down. I wish I could have helped you some how. In due time, I hope.
I hope things get better, and I hope that when they do and you are ready that you find another amazing canine baby that will help you through your pain the way Miss Moon and the others have.
R.I.P Moonbug. I miss hearing about you talking, your cute little quirks, and Umi giving you crap.
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