One month ago today, you took your last breath here on earth. You left so peacefully that I didn’t even know exactly when it happened. I am so grateful for the decision I made to have a company come to my home. It gave me so much peace. You left in your own bed, in your own home, on our timeline. I never felt rushed.
Shadow, you were the biggest blessing wrapped up in the yummiest fur. I loved cuddling you. I would ask you, “Do you want to cuddle?” and you would roll onto your side and let me wrap you up in my arms and snuggle into you. Your ears… land sakes, anyone who had the opportunity knows exactly what I’m talking about. Your ears were so, so soft. I would always put my ear in yours and ask you what you were listening to.
You put up with all my antics and silliness because you simply wanted to be with me. Over the years, I would dress you up for Halloween or put glasses on you, headbands, or whatever. People would say I was being mean by doing that, but they didn’t know how much you actually loved it. I would ask you each Halloween what you wanted to wear, show you your options, and you decided. Your favorite was the bumblebee costume.
Everywhere I turn, I find more Shadow things, and it brings a smile to my face.
Sweet girl, through everything, you were sick. We managed your Lyme disease for nine years. It took three months to finally figure out what it was, and by then, you were down to 54 pounds. But with Dr. Peters’ persistence and patience, we figured it out. Once that was under control, we dealt with so many other health issues. You were an 80-pound girl with a sensitive tummy who loved to eat anything and everything—and then let us deal with the aftermath. Ugh. I got really good at managing so many medications when you had flare-ups. The meds… sigh. I am still finding more of them. Toward the end, you were on so many, but they kept you going. I swear you were a cat with nine lives, and you finally got to the point where you ran out of them.
I’m not sure how it’s possible, but I believe humans are able to decide when they are ready to transition. Shadow made me believe 1,000% that animals have that gift too. I believe that Shadow wanted to be with us for Christmas. That day, she was the normal that she had been lately—present, on her feet, eating her Christmas treats, and even badly wanting the salt ornament that Maci had made for her. That evening she was tired, but heck, weren’t we all? She made her way up to my room and slept right beside me, as she always did.
The next morning, I got up, and she was breathing a bit harder. It took her five minutes to walk about 20 steps, and then she lay down at the top of the stairs, just breathing like she had run a marathon. At that point, for her, it probably felt like one. Mya and I had to carry her down the stairs, and she let us. This very proud dog let us carry her. Right then, I knew something was definitely not right. I called my vet, who, bless her heart, took my call, and we talked about what was going on. I felt the time had come, and she confirmed it.
This day was one of the hardest days of my life. I had called Caring Pathways, and an appointment was set for 6:30 that evening. I had the whole day with her! She got to FaceTime with her favorite people who couldn’t be there, one of them being Maci. The bond those two had was indescribable. When Maci got on the call with her, Shadow was lying down but upright, and her breathing was rapid. She heard Maci’s voice, and Shadow rolled onto her side, and her breath immediately calmed. A few hours later, Shadow’s breath had gotten rapid again, so I showed her a video of Maci, and again, right away, she calmed down.
This sweet girl was done. I knew throughout the day that this was now a fact. She couldn’t even get up. She had given her absolute all. But she went out in grand style. She had her shortbread cookies throughout the day that she loved, and this girl ate like a queen. Her last meal was prime rib and Cool Whip. She loved every bite and lick of that meal!
About an hour before the vet arrived, Shadow and I were lying on the floor, and my mom asked me to take something out to her car. I got up and grabbed Mom’s keys. As soon as Shadow heard the keys and thought I was going, she struggled with everything she had to get to a sitting position, trying to go with me. I dropped everything and immediately went back to her side. I never wanted to, nor did I let, this dog suffer if I could avoid it. She gave me so, so much.
During the day, I kept going back to the same thought: How on earth am I going to go on without this beauty by my side? Well, after a grief counseling session Friday, I learned that, in all honesty, I had been grieving her for probably the past year. I knew this day would come sometime soon, and I grieved her absence well before it was actually here.
My sweet girl, when the day comes that I cross that rainbow bridge—if humans also do—you will be my very first hello, I know. You will greet me the way you always did every time I had been away from the house and you looked around everyone until you found me and put eyes on me. We will dance like we did when it snowed, play, and just be filled with joy because we are united again.
I love you forever, my beautiful, sweet girl. Rest in peace.