Earlier today, I read a post from a friend that bothered me and though it was not addressed towards me, it annoyed me on so many levels. Dobby is not my pet, he is not my dog. He is my child, our child, our son and our baby.

I don’t care what the training world believes or what the proper way to treat an animal as deemed by the professionals may be. Dobby spent his life being loved, cherished, and catered to. His healthcare ran into thousands of dollars because we would have gone completely broke to save his life time and time again. He was our life, we planned around his needs. Dobby’s allergies prevented him from going outside and his pancreatitis prevented him from living normally. We gave him our all to give him as much quality of life as possible and I would do it a million times over if I could.

To those who think I am wrong for calling him my baby, let me correct you now. He is and will always be my baby even though he left this world too soon. I knew his habits, his quirks, his needs better than some human mothers know their human children. I knew his face, the wrinkled brow when he had a headache, the mole that he would bump and it would bleed because he sneezed too hard and his mouth hit the floor. I knew his scar from where we almost lost him due to a blockage. I knew every freckle on his belly, the skin tags that popped up almost overnight. I knew the soft fur between his toes, the one black toenail while the others were white, the receded gum line on the left side, the paper-thin tongue he kissed so lovingly with, the ear that always was up unless he was in trouble or sleeping and the freckles across his nose. I knew when he was sick, when he was pouting, playful, curious or just needed love. Why?? Because I was and am his mama. He is and will forever be my baby.

The advice you give to people may fit your training life but it does not fit a pet parents life. There is a difference between a pet owner and a pet parent, you see it how you will but from a heartbroken mama’s perspective I see it as a loss of my child, a void that cannot be filled.

I am his mama, and Dobby Abu Evans is and always will be my BABY!!

Angel

22 days. 22 days I have missed my baby, 22 days I have felt immense pain, grief and emptiness. Is it any easier? Absolutely NOT. My anxiety, I feel is worse, I don’t know how to get through this. Meds help, but only when I can take them at night, can’t take them at work. Everything frustrates me, but I still get up everyday and try to cope my way through. I miss my baby and it is not getting easier. One step, one second at a time.

I am at a point that I feel lost. I have plans to honor my baby’s life and memory, it will happen. Overwhelmed is an understatement.  I still cannot place his ashes in their spot, I still keep him with me. I don’t have the courage yet. Someday maybe, but not today and most likely not tomorrow. The world still moves around me, I still do my job, yet I am lost. I have amazing support, family and friends far and near have been great. I just can’t cope or at least not very progressively. I assume since I am still breathing and somewhat functioning that is a sign that I am getting through this, but I don’t really feel like I am.

Life is short. Please love and laugh and make memories, for in the end that is all we really have. God is my only saving grace, praying I can find the comfort I need.

Angel

Day 13, 14,  and 15 have been less than desirable . I still miss my baby so much, no I have not placed his ashes by the bamboo yet, well simply because I don’t have the courage to at this time. Grief is more than just mourning, it is  a huge ball of emotions that roll over you and suck you into the core while continuing to speed out of control.

Everything is making me angry right now. I am angry that my baby is gone, angry that I couldn’t save him, angry that life around me has gone on, but mostly angry that I am angry. My body is holding in so much tension I literally feel like I may snap like a twig. Some may judge, some may understand but I finally relented to getting anxiety meds to help calm me. Of course, they make me so sleepy so I can’t take them at work. They help at night and I sleep some, but its restless. I am stressed and am trying so hard to cope. The good news is Mama is home from the hospital, yet that offers little relief as she is still sick.

Fear is my enemy. I am afraid of everything and since losing Dobby my fear has increased ten fold. Most days I feel like I am suffocating, as if I have an elephant using my chest as a foot prop. I remind my self to breathe but it isn’t always successful. My inhaler is close by and there is a paper bag somewhere in case of hyperventilation. Old fears, new fears; it doesn’t matter as it is all consuming me.

I am trying to cope, trying to pull myself together when in reality I just want to pull the covers over my head and hide until it all subsides.  I feel helpless, lost, and broken.

Today I still am not strong enough to face it, maybe tomorrow. My baby boy is missed and my life has a huge hole. God’s grace is all I have and I pray it is enough. Love your family, life is too short.

Angel

Day Twelve, not a good day at all. As I mentioned in my first post, my mama is not well. She has been in the hospital since Thursday with a severe kidney infection, or at least that is latest that we have been told. I went today to see her. Dobby was with me as I still cannot place his ashes next to the bamboo. I thought I could return to the hospital without feeling dread but I was ever so wrong. Luckily, Terry went with me.

I have not been there since the day my daddy died. Walking through those doors again was hard, then I had to get on the same elevator and then get off  on the same floor…panic set in quickly, but I reminded myself to breathe as I turned the corner away from the ICU doors. I visited my mama, who is very pale and looks weak right now.  I asked questions with my sister, not that we got any answers and then after a short visit I left. I went to my mama’s house hugged my sister, her kids and her grand baby and headed home.

Anxiety was creeping in, I felt the shortness of breath, the weak almost fainting feeling and the suffocating closed in feeling. I held on for the three-hour ride until I got home. I distracted myself doing laundry and dishes. Once settled I broke into that sobbing panic, the inability to breathe and I cried. I cried because my mama is sick, because my sister is overwhelmed and has strep, because my daddy is gone, because I can’t be strong for Terry as he is grieving and I cried because I want my baby back.

Anxiety is brutal. It goes hand in hand with grief and the two combined are unforgiving.

It will take faith and the grace of God to get me through this, I just pray I am strong enough, today I am not.

Angel

Day Eleven, I am still breathing so I guess I am coping. I didn’t break down today, but I thought of Dobby every moment possible. I keep looking for signs that he is okay and that he is still with me in spirit. I find that I am at peace the most when I am at home, even though every aspect of this house reminds me of his quirky, defiant ways. He was happiest here and I want to remember that part of him.

I still can’t find the courage to put his ashes down and I feel the need to hold them close more often than not. I know some think it is unhealthy, he is my baby and losing him was so much harder than I ever imagined. See I knew that day would come, as animals unfairly have such short lives, but I wasn’t ready for it to be now. My baby was ready, he fought hard for so long.  The fair me knows he is no longer in pain. The selfish me, the grieving mama in me, well I want my baby back.

I know people don’t see animals the same as I do sometimes and so it is hard for them to understand the immense grief I feel. If you understand this then I know you have loved a fur baby as if they were human and that is a truly unconditional kind of love. My heart was never as full and now broken until Dobby Abu Evans wiggled into it.

In time, I will be able to place his ashes next to his picture and the lucky bamboo that a friend bought to honor his life. For now though I need to hold him, I need to grieve. I am coping, or at least attempting to.  By the grace of God I will make it through this. Life is short, love hard.

Angel

This is the excerpt for your very first post.

via Devastation — Guts, Grace, And Grief