I hate this post already.
I don’t want to write it…and I’ve put it off for almost a month now. A sad, no good awful month with a big fat hole in it. A hole where Kelly used to be.
Kelly was the generous supplier of the dog hair that inspired half the name of this blog. As much as it would be easier to NOT discuss it, I feel like I have to… because I loved that big, sweet, dumb dog, and she was an important part of our family. Also, writing is cheaper than therapy.
You’re welcome to skip this if you’d like a happier post. I TOTALLY understand.
At 13, Kelly was our big, sweet yellow lab with an insatiable appetite. That girl was hungry all the time (to which I can relate), and nothing on any menu was gross enough to escape her palate (to which I cannot relate). Whether we served it or nature did, she was always an agreeable diner, and no garbage can, Easter Basket, lunchbag in a backpack, or low flying bird was safe if she could smell it, reach it, or catch it.
It wasn’t unheard of for us to come home to a trail of coffee grounds that led to a trail of something else, then something else, and we’d follow the discarded treasures that would eventually lead to a very guilty puppy face. Sometimes she would meet us at the door with her signature squinty guilty shaky face, and we knew she had found trouble while we were gone. This one was legendary.
Kelly immediately recognized food-related sounds…like the time I was using my electric knife to carve upholstery foam and she showed up hoping for turkey:
But Kelly was way more than an appetite in a dog suit. She was our sweet Jellybean. We loved when she would grab a stuffed animal from the toy bin and snuggle up to it.
Even though she “wasn’t allowed on the furniture” she would cram her big body into a small circle to fit on any chair if she could get away with it.
She was a discriminating cuddler, and when she decided it was your moment, no matter what you were doing you savored every minute until she was ready to move on.
She cuddled two of our kids a little more than the rest of us, and always seemed to know when they needed it most.
One of our greatest joys was playing frisbee with her when she was younger and fitter, and she would race at crazy speeds and distance to catch her favorite disks over and over and over again. Our yard was made for that dog.
Over the years she would be up for fewer and fewer tosses, but even as she got older and had no hope of catching it, she would still carry her red disk around for old times sake, and would still be up for endless games of short-distance fetch around the pool.
Despite the fact that she laboriously huffed and puffed with every step, she would voluntarily walk the yard with us every day…or loyally follow Mr. when he was on the tractor.
With their 75lb weight difference, she and Jack were definitely an unlikely couple, but they were really great together…and Kelly was always careful around Jack. Whatever friendships dogs can strike, theirs was very complementary.
One of my favorite things were our dance sessions. No, really! If everyone was gone during the day, I’d often crank my big 80’s Spotify playlist and clean to the music, and she would pop up and jump around as if she were dancing with me. Then again, maybe she was trying to tell me to keep my Elaine Benes moves to myself.
In my recent post about Roland joining the family, I think I mentioned that I wasn’t initially a BIG dog person; mine were always small breeds. I didn’t grasp that a dog like Kelly needed a firmer hand and there were a few months during her puppy phase when I didn’t think I was up to the challenge. But with the help of the dog academy just down the road, I learned what an irreplaceable experience having a big dog can be. It didn’t take long to reel her in, once we both learned who was supposed to be the pack leader and who was supposed to be the teddy bear.
She loved the water, and we had to leave a line on her when we visited the lake at Alleghany State Park or she might have forgotten to come back to shore. In the hour ride home, everyone would complain about the wet dog smell (even long after she had dried)…but we all loved how much SHE loved being in the water all day.
Her back legs had gotten weaker over the last year or so. She stopped climbing stairs and we could tell she carefully selected which door she would use to go outside based on the number of steps. Even getting up from sitting had become a bit of a struggle. Still, it came as a surprise to us one day in January when she stayed in the same spot all day…until we discovered one of her legs had completely stopped working.
We hurriedly bought these amazing lifts to help get her around and outside for “business,”
and despite the crazy distance from the door to her “favorite spot” she enthusiastically helped us walk her there and seemed to enjoy the crispness of the air and the change of scenery.
We assumed it was some kind of spinal thing and planned to work with it as long as Kelly wasn’t suffering, but clearly she needed to be examined.
On Sunday, the kiddos who left the nest wanted to visit with her “just in case.” So we brought our family room ottomans into the garage, carried Kelly in her bed and set her on top of them–like the queen on a fainting couch–and we all had a nice, socially distanced visit.
The mobile vet came to our house the next evening. They gently carried her to their truck for an x-ray and came back with the startling news that Kelly had somehow fractured her femur…likely by a freakish accident, but more so because her bone had become extremely thin and frail. The vet said ordinarily, a broken femur happens after something major, but in Kelly’s case the weakened condition of the bone was a strong contributor and, combined with her age, made a successful repair nearly impossible.
With two of our kiddos on the phone and two still with us at home, we decided together that she had clearly suffered enough. The vet brought her back to the garage to her ottoman throne and began the preparations as we said our goodbyes.
AND there’s a reason why I am tormenting you with this part of the story…but you have to get through just a little more:
After the IV was connected and Kelly was sedated and IT was just about to happen, the vet unwrapped something from a crinkly wrapper of some sort… For a long moment, Kelly’s head shot up and she looked around to check it out. Then we all held her gently and she passed peacefully and quickly.
I had to tell you that last part…because you might be horrified to think Kelly may have wondered what was happening. For us, believe it or not, it’s a great source of comfort; because that food-obsessed dog could be upstairs sleeping under my bed with the door pulled around, manage to hear a package of cookies being opened, and in a flash, would show up downstairs at your side hoping you would share.
That last wrapper brought a joyful memory alive for all of us, and we are comforted to think that at the end Kelly knew she was completely surrounded by the love of her family and had the hope of a snack when she crossed the rainbow bridge.
I sure hope it was a Beggin’ Strip…that was her favorite.
_____
Just a personal and huge thank you to our veterinarian, Dr. Teresa Labuszewski at the Animal Hospitable, who gave Kelly a lifetime of compassionate care, and recommended the mobile vet to bring great care to Kelly instead of making us bring her in…
and
FETCH the VET mobile veterinary practice and Dr. Jenni Tudini. Kind, compassionate, so very gentle. Because I am still a big ball of mush, I haven’t yet been able to appropriately thank her for the amazing care she brought to our sweet girl, and for her gentleness and accommodation to our family. We weren’t even patients at the time, but they found a spot in their schedule for Kelly and made it so we could all be with her, right in our own home.
When animals are most stressed and uncomfortable, what a gift to be able to deliver such compassionate treatment, both to a beloved pet and to an entire family.
This is a beautiful tribute to Kelly! I’m terribly sorry for your loss!
Thank you, Lovely. She was a sweet pea.
What a beautiful tribute. I almost chickened out and set the laptop aside. But I kept reading and I am so glad I did. Thank you for loving that baby so very well. And for sharing her with all of us so we can love her a little, too. I am certainly no authority on religion or spirituality (or anything else) but in my idea of heaven, we will be surrounded by all the creatures we loved. My heart breaks for you and for Kelly to have to be apart for a time, but won’t that reunion be heavenly!! Big love to you, dear, dear Em.
Thank you, sweet Leslie for that uplifting thought. It’s making me think that she is in the great company of my Uncle Bob and Mr’s Uncle Vinny, our beloved uncles. Both of them were absolute dog lovers and Im sure would take great care of her. What a happy thought! Thank you.
So sorry for your lost, I have a 15 year chihuahua that has tremendous hair lost, I find it in places I wish I didn’t and know that when something happens it will break my heart and leave a empty hole. Tinkerbell has her own designated chair with her own blanket and toys, unless I’m in the room and she is by my side or in my lap. best dog around if you are feeling under the weather. Think of all the memories you have and know Kelly knew she was loved and felt your love.
Hello, Barb. Totally get your affection for Tinkerbell. Even the smallest of dog take up the largest of spaces in our hearts and lives. Thank you for your kind words about Kelly… I definitely take comfort in that!
Didn’t read the whole thing, couldn’t, I was already tearing up and I got to go to work but wanted to say how terribly sorry I am. They love so intensely and are only with us for such a short time. Its almost as if there’s a price to pay. I have two dogs of my own. Sending hugs.
Thank you, Haiku!
It’s crazy to think of how many pet cycles I will endure in my lifetime; but certainly without love there is no loss. If they didn’t matter so much, losing them wouldn’t be so hard…
Thank you for the support and the hugs! xoxo
PS. Your name is gorgeous!
First you have me giggling at the Instagram video (where Jack’s tail is wagging non stop) to tears, then to another giggle at the crinkling of plastic and Kelly thinking it might be a treat.
Even though I knew the end, it doesn’t make it any easier.
But what this post especially shows is the love in your house. With Kelly, and with you guys. And that’s the best message ever.
XOXO
Jodie
HUGE virtual hug
Thanks, Jodie. It’s been a challenging year with a lot of changes. Despite the fact that the kiddos are beginning new adventures outside of our nest, I think we’ve kind of gotten stronger as a family this year. The adult versions are pretty special. Seeing them with Kelly was very sweet. xo
I was thinking about you and Kelly the other night and wondering, how did she get her name??
OXOX
Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.
{Edna St. Vincent Millay}
Death ends a life, not a relationship.
{Laura Beck}
*****
My husband came and found me in tears, reading your post. “What’s wrong…? Are you okay?”
“My blogger friend, Em – her dog died.” But I could hardly get words out.
He hugged me. He gets it – we both know animals are family members. The kind of family members who’ve never said a cross word or even once asked for money — or ever stopped being all about One Thing: the people they love.
My friend’s Jellybean died, and she wrote the most beautiful, loving, meaningful tribute imaginable.
My friend’s Bean died and my heart is broken. Thanks to her words, I’ll never forget that sweet, sweet dog. I’ll never forget her carrying her red frisbee, even when leaps were no longer an option.
I’m so glad you left the last of her story in. I’m thankful one of the last sounds Kelly heard – apart from the voices she loved – was the crinkle of a wrapper, the hope of a treat.
“…an appetite in a dog suit…” and as you rightly said, so much, much, much more.
Thank you for not keeping this post to yourself. Thank you. Thank you for knowing, somehow, that we needed this, too.
Thank you for brightening the world with beautiful story of a one-of-a-kind friend. Even most **people** will never have a tribute this touching and lovely. Your Bean deserved every word of it. I’m so sorry she’s not there for you to cuddle. She IS a person, and the very best of those.
love,
Cathy in Missouri
Now I’m crying all over again, But this time from how kind you and everyone else has been today… I feel so uplifted by all the beautiful words.
Your quote above is so lovely and meaningful, Cathy. I can’t imagine the sorrow people feel who have suffered even greater loss, because that quote very much characterized the first couple of weeks for us…like empty shell people walking around.
It’s gotten a little easier to talk and think about, and though missing her still “hurts like hell” we have lately been sharing pictures and video back and forth, and now it brings smiles to each of us to remember her (amid an occasional cry day). I’ve only shared this post with one of my kiddos, and I’ll tell Mr and the rest when they are ready. It was hard to write but I am so glad I have it now.
Thank you, Cathy, sincerely… for the warm embrace of all your kind words. I feel very blessed by the overwhelming generosity I experienced today. Hugs to you and yours. 😘
It’s never easy! And sometimes it’s extremely difficult.
I’m so sorry for your loss and I surely feel for you. Those furbabies can surely worm their way into our hearts. Thankfully you had him for a god number of years. I know, doesn’t make it any easier – but you’ll have sweet memories.
Grace & Peace, Iris
http://www.IrisOriginalsRamblings.com
Thank you, Iris. They do indeed! And you are so right about her years, big dogs do generally have shorter spans and we feel we had an extra couple of years given her general health. We all particularly noted this last one gave us lots of opportunity to really be home with her all the time. Hidden blessing.
What a lovely tribute to Kelly. This is the only real down side to having a pet; saying goodbye. Our fur babies just don’t live long enough and, when they go, they take a piece of our heart with them. I’m so, so sorry for your loss.
I read this post with Egor on my lap. Now I’m crying and he’s oblivious.
Hi, Vickiann, You are so right. We do know up front that we have a finite time with these fur babies… but they are so enriching! I know my mom reached her sadness limit when our family’s last terrier crossed unexpectedly. She said “no more.” I don’t think I’ll ever get to that point when letting them go overwhelms the joy they bring.
Hugs to you and Egor.
My heart goes out to you and your family. As a dog owner and lover, this is the hardest thing to go through and one we never want to face. May you be comforted by the memories of this sweet heart and may you find peace in knowing she had the best life with a loving family. Only time will heal the pain…blessings to you❤️
Hello, Rhonda. Thank you for your sweet note. Given her labored breathing, I always thought it would be other things (that were off in the not too far distance), and then this dumb thing snuck up on us. It felt so frustrating.
But your second sentence is almost verbatim what my daughter said this morning. This was a great place for her, and she got to be with everyone–full time–for most of her last year. She was great for us, and I hope we were great for her. So it does, indeed bring a LOT of comfort…THANK YOU!
Thank you… that’s all I can get out… thank you for loving your baby and for sharing this here… I stumbled here from somewhere else and now I’m just a big pile of blubbering mush. heart heart heart
Oh, Jaynn. I’m sorry. I cried for all the days I wrote that post, And then last night I almost unscheduled it because I was worried that it would look like I was exploiting her. And today, the visits remind me of an irish wake where we’re all celebrating the love we have for our furbabies, the sadness when they leave, and ultimately, the joy they leave in our hearts, Thanks for stumbling by!
So sorry for your loss. It does leave a big, gaping hole in your heart. 5 years after our precious Deogie passing, I still miss her terribly. We did have her cremated and I still stop by her container and talk to her. The are not our pets, they are our family.
My suggestion to renaming your blog? Don’t! Keep it in honor of Kelly and you still have Jack. You will be forever known to me as Dust and Doghair, I started following you when you made that awesome crate for Kelly…
I would never change my LLC name (bluedogbeads llc) because that too was name after Deogie, a blue heeler.
Prayers for healing for you and your family
Deogie! I see what you did there…what a great name for a gorgeous dog. Sweet baby.
They brought Kelly’s container and paw print last week…I haven’t been able to look at it yet.
I will still keep the name, thank you!!! (Even though most people go, “ew.”)
My son told me I will still be finding her hair 10 years from now. And today, that’s a-okay with me. 😘
A very big hole indeed. So sorry for your loss.
Thank you, kind Pamela!
Oh Em, thank you so much for this lovely good bye story about your Bean. Jodie told me about your loss right after so I knew what this post held. My tears came anyway. What a loving tribute. This stirred memories of sending our yellow lab Sage over the bridge as well as other beloved dogs. They leave such huge holes in our hearts and our lives. The love and memories they leave however is never ending. How lucky you were to have her and how lucky she was to have you! Warm hugs and love 💕 Lesley
Thanks, Lesley! So nice of you to come and read and laugh and cry with us. Pets are such a blessing!
I enjoy seeing your little cuties. We had a Shih-tzu before Kelly and grew up with Boston terriers…I remember all of them like it was yesterday. Hugs back! 🥰