The death of a pet is never easy. The grief that comes with losing an animal that has loved you unconditionally for most of their life is heartbreaking. But when the Rainbow Bridge comes calling, it is time to let them go.
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For the last ten years of my life, I have been a dog owner. It started with my first rescue, Buffy the black labrador. A beautiful pup who was rescued from the pound by an animal charity and came to the rescue centre the day I was visiting. I fell in love with her as soon as I saw her. If it had been possible, I would have put her in the boot of my car then and there, but the shelter had protocol to follow. Once she was home and settled, we enjoyed a year of doggy bliss as a family. One day, a friend at the time reached out and said that she had a few dogs that she needed rehomed, otherwise they were being put to sleep. Without hesitation, I took them off her hands. This was when Krypto the husky and Diesel the Staffy joined our family. For years, the three dogs lived in bliss. Long walks, treat boxes, cuddles and games. Everything was perfect.
We knew Diesel was getting on in years but we never expected him to go downhill so quickly. I assumed it was because the cold winter was getting to him so I got him some doggy jumpers to help keep the heat in his elderly dog body. Within a week or two, his health declined rapidly until we found him dead on the kitchen floor one morning.
A few months after Diesel had died, a friend from a husky group reached out about a possible rehoming of a dog that had come to her. Someone she knew was suffering from postnatal depression and decided it was a great idea to head to the pound and rescue every dog that was there. This was a few years ago, but I believe she had to find homes for around 20 dogs that day. We took one, a black husky/German shepherd mix who went by the name Liquorice briefly. My mum decided that was a stupid name and that she would adopt her instead, changing it to Summer. The new adoption didn’t last long after Summer doubled in size after a month of being in a loving home and destroyed my mum’s vegetable patch. Summer flung the veggie patch far and wide, and we still find carrots growing in random places to this day.
Within six months of Summer joining our pack, Krypto died. One morning, we got out of bed, went to let the dogs outside, and he could barely stand. We knew something was very wrong, he was normally first out the door for a morning sniff and a wee. We brought him into the house, laid him on the kitchen floor while we called the vet. It was first thing in the morning, I hadn’t even pulled my jeans yet, when the blood curdling scream came from the kitchen. Our eldest daughter had been sitting with him, stroking him, telling him that it was going to be ok, when he took his last breath. She was only 12 years old and saw death appear before her eyes. For days, she was inconsolable. If I was to bring this moment up with her now, as a grown woman, she would still get emotional.
For a while, things seemed to go ok with the dogs. Buffy and Summer got along, they played and cared for each other. It had been years since Diesel and Krypto had gone over the Rainbow Bridge, however, we knew that Buffy was getting on in years. We never foresaw the tragedy which would play out on a cold January evening. The cold was getting to Buffy one evening, so I decided she could have a bath. Buffy loved the bath. She loved them so much, I couldn’t have her in the bathroom when I got in the bath because she had a terrible habit of getting in with me. As she lay in the warm water, feeling the gentle ear rubs as she soaked her cares away, she decided to turn in the bath to get more comfortable. As she turned, she slipped. What we didn’t know was that Buffy had a degenerative back condition, a ticking time bomb in her spine. As she turned, the bomb went off. She lost the use of her back legs instantly, crushing nerves and causing an unbelievable amount of pain. The vet took MRI’s and scans before delivering the bad news, there was nothing that could be done. There was surgery but there was a high possibility that it wouldn’t work or Buffy wouldn’t wake up from the surgery due to her age. This was the first time I have had to put a dog to sleep. 18 months later, I would have to do the same to Summer after she developed an inoperable brain tumour.
Now, my home is dogless. All of my four-legged doggo babies experienced a full life cycle and then left me. In every case, there was nothing I could do. Dogs stay with us, love us for who we are, and then head over the Rainbow Bridge once their work is done. When it came to telling my kids what had happened, it was easier to explain to the older two the whats and the hows of their departure. The littles ones, I took a different approach. Death is a scary concept that I want to keep from them for a while longer, so I told them a version of the truth that would bring them comfort. Betty White died a few weeks before Buffy had, and being the animal lover that she was, I told my children that they had gone over the Rainbow Bridge to stay with her because she was the best at looking after older dogs who needed help. I took comfort in the possibility that the dogs had gone to stay with her. I hope that when the Rainbow Bridge appeared for my beautiful pups that Betty was waiting on the other side to give them a home. And for that, I thank you Betty White.
