A final goodbye to Buddy, our therapy-dog

Buddy, the Therapy Dog, has crossed the Rainbow Bridge

This is by far the most difficult post I have ever had to write. For 16 years, Buddy has been a regular presence in my practice and in my personal life. He was with me almost 24/7. Buddy was a very active Lab/Basenji mix . . . the Basenji side of him was a barkless dog (they yodel, chortle, growl, and scream–yes, it’s as gut-wrenching as you’d think it would be), highly intelligent, agile and and would stare directly into your soul! The Lab side gave him his playful and social energy (Basenjis are usually rather independent and aloof…like a cat). He will be sorely missed.

A concert of “Lasts”

When you lose a pet of so many years, you get used to all sorts of routines and experiences. When the time comes to say goodbye, you become acutely aware of the things you’ll miss; some are things that made you laugh, some that made you wonder, some that annoyed you, but all things that shaped the relationship that you grieve.

I’ll share just a couple of these, starting with the funniest! The night before he crossed over the Rainbow Bridge, he was sleeping near my feet in the living room, head facing away from me (so his butt aimed directly at me!) he farted audibly, woke himself up, picked up his head and looked back at me, and gave me the smile you see at the top of this post. I laughed out loud and he gave one of his trademark vocalizations: an “eeerrrrwwWWOOOOeerrrrr!!” That stinker knew exactly what he had done and clearly was pleased with himself!

Being a highly intelligent dog, Buddy enjoyed puzzles and having to figure things out. While I typically would hide his 8:00pm Greenie treat, I took extra care to hide not one, not two, but 5 of these delightful treats for him. It was rare that he wouldn’t find them. When he found the first and gobbled it up, he could smell that there was more and set out on the hunt, sniffing around everywhere . . . when he found the second one, you could see that he felt like he had gotten away with something . . . but the smell of Greenies lingered!! So off to the races he went again! It didn’t take long, but he found all five, then promptly laid down to nap a bit . . . then the aforementioned fart!

There were many others that I may come back and share here, so stay tuned!

Relief and Grief: “Grielief”

Buddy had been struggling with severe arthritis in all of his joints and in his spine. He was an absolute trooper, but the pain was making it very difficult for him to get around. He had also begun to descend into canine dementia, which was causing some anxiety. While meds helped to manage all of this, and a couple of other conditions, things progressed to where it was no longer fair for me to prolong his suffering. The decision was brutal, but I knew it was the right thing to do; that doesn’t mean I didn’t struggle with second guessing myself. This is a normal part of making the decision to euthanize a cherished pet. My family and friends all reminded me that while I’d be grief-stricken, that I would also be relieved knowing that my Buddy was not suffering and that he went out strong.

A client of mine once discussed this experience with respect to a family member who had passed. They said that they were experiencing both grief and relief, that they were “grielieved.” What a brilliant term. I immediately told them that I’d steal that term and use it to support others . . .and I still use that term regularly! Now I’m on the grielieved side of things, and the relief side doesn’t mean that it is easy. It’s not. At all. But it does make a difference.

Losing a pet can be more painful than losing people. Here’s why:

While this can sound counter-intuitive, pets are completely innocent and entirely dependent on us. They forgive immediately for our faults, the trust us without question, and they don’t argue with us when we are in a bad mood. . . they just want to help us feel better.