The long way

Some journal entries at the end of Pete's life. (On losing an animal you love, grief, and everything else it holds)

Christmas 2022

January 10, 2024

We have been taking care of Pete again for weeks now, minus this past weekend when he was at Hayden’s dad’s house which undid any progress we made. But what progress really? Can you make progress on an old 15-year-old dog?

When I say Pete I am referring to one of Hayden’s family dogs. They got him when Hayden was 15. It’s strange to think I’ve known Pete for 11 years.

The writing on the wall is that he is dying. I keep replaying what the vet said to us a few weeks ago. I keep replaying the language he used. “We just want to make sure he’s as comfortable as possible.” I asked him, “Do you think he’s about to die?” He gave a diplomatic answer like, “This is the type of dog that could live to be 18.” He went on and started making jokes like, “But then he’ll have you in here for this new ailment, and that new issue, and so on.” I could hear him and Hayden chuckling together, but I was still left confused about what he was actually saying. I was alarmed at the language he was using. Or maybe Hayden and I were too hopeful that we could cure Pete with meds if we just got him checked out. The vet prescribed 300 mg of gabapentin and 100 mg of trazodone and gave him a shot that was supposed to make him stop feeling the pain in his legs. Looking back, maybe the vet wasn’t in the mood to tell us that Yes, Pete will die soon. He’s riddled with tumors on his body, has arthritis, and doggy dementia. He keeps ripping his hair out because it itches so badly.

I thought about how Vets have a high suicide rate because of how often they have to put animals down.

It hurts to look Pete in the eyes.

—

We didn’t get much sleep last night. Pete just kept moaning and barking and trying to get up. He was uncomfortable with pain. We gave him his meds, which I had to lather in ketchup because he started eating around the pills all day/ night. Hayden and I switched on and off sitting on the floor with him to try to calm him down. There were moments when Hayden and I just looked at each other in fear, and grief because we thought Pete was going to die that night. He had trouble breathing. Was it the heater, or allergies? I thought to myself. Or maybe just the meds slowing his breathing significantly. Hayden cuddled him a lot that night, letting his tears fall on his blonde coat. Even while Pete was moaning in pain he would lift his head to lick Hayden’s tears from his face. It was like a scene from a movie. My heart broke and I cried too. For Pete’s imminent death, for the love an animal can have for a human, and for the love Pete has for Hayden. It was then I started to think, are we fighting for his life? Or does Pete want to go because he’s tired and in pain, but is willing to sacrifice it all for Hayden? It was like I could see the burden of love in Pete’s eyes. But I don’t know. Pete’s eyes have always held so much sadness in them. Even though he has lived a wonderful adventurous life, his eyes have always made me sad. There’s too much love in them maybe.

Questions of what’s morally right come into play in these situations and it becomes apparent that we don’t know, truly know, the answer to them. Which is more cruel? To let something live while suffering or to put it down? And who is the one hurting more? Which one carries our love? To not let go, not give up, or to honor them and not wish pain on them? Unless the answer is obvious (which it never is) the question becomes bigger. Old age is hard and confusing. Are they not themselves because of suffering or does old age change the self? We all speak of a person or animal’s spark in these instances. We are always looking for the spark of the soul. I kept searching Pete’s eyes for the past few days. Hoping he would tell me something with them.

—

It’s 5:37 P.M., same day. We took Pete to Hayden’s dad’s house. Pete was so happy to be back in the neighborhood he grew up in. He got a warm meal from Annie and then we took him on a walk behind SLMS (our old middle school). He was happy to be off leash trailing along behind us. I kept looking back, waiting for Pete. He was tired and happy. I think he went on this walk for us really, not for him. We were begging him to come for a walk. He didn’t want to, but he did anyway. He seemed happy to be sniffing all his familiar spots. I knew this was his last walk, but I hoped not. Hayden’s dad said he would call some places and make an appointment to get him put down and would call us for that. So I guess now we wait.

—

January 11,2024 9:13 AM

Hayden’s dad is putting Pete down today. This morning. Though he’s not answering so I don’t know. Is January 11 a good day to die? I suppose it’s all the same for Pete.

-

1:12 PM

Well. We put Pete down. Hayden and I met Hayden’s dad at the Alief Pet Hospital. Pete was waiting in the back of the truck while Hayden’s dad was checking in. We opened up the back of the truck to see him calmly lying down on a sleeping bag. I think he knew what was happening. It was so sad to see him sunbathing in the back of the truck. Hayden was crying and hugging Pete and Pete started licking his tears again. The pain and sadness started to bubble up in me too and I scrunched my face to hold back from crying but I started to anyway. I told him I loved him and kissed him. Poor sweet Pete.

We brought him into the room. Weighed him—66 lbs. The nurse explained it would be one shot to sedate him and take him out of it and another one to stop his heart. We put a towel on the cold weigh machine and he instantly laid down on it. He seemed so tired. The nurse gave him the sedative and we all started crying. A moment of panic washed over me and I thought, can we reverse this? Take this all back? Pete barked loudly and looked like he wanted to bite the nurse. His last yelp. His bark never weakened even in old age. His eyes jumped to Hayden, me, and Hayden’s dad. He knew he had been injected with something. Perhaps a moment of fear washed over him but soon he was snoring with his eyes open while Hayden cradled his head and cried into him. He looked into Hayden’s eyes as if to say, it’s okay, you can let go now, and kissed his salty tears one last time. It always looked like Pete was trying to comfort Hayden for as long as I’ve known either of them. Hayden’s protector, I would always say.

I cried too. Death is so sad. Then the nurse shaved his arm and the vet came in and gave the shot that would stop his heart.

There was no logic to time in this room. It all took about 30 minutes but somehow it all happened so fast. I checked the time. 11:46 A.M. Only a minute had passed since I last checked. Time slowed down in that room in the most excruciating way. Too many tears and goodbyes. And yet, it took mere seconds for his heart to stop, only seconds for his soul to leave his body.

Then the gases started to release and it was jarring and scary. I remember my face changing in fear when he released gas from his mouth and his tongue stuck out. I couldn’t stop staring. It felt like I was watching Pete’s body from a bird’s eye view. All I could think was that now he looked like roadkill. Now he looked dead. Sleep and death look nothing alike. I touched him one last time and almost recoiled my hand immediately. He no longer felt like Pete anymore. It just felt like I was petting a dead dog's body. Pete was gone.

We cried and cried and cried. Sweet Pete is gone, what could replace that old stubborn dog? I didn’t realize how attached I got to him. All the sweet moments I shared with Pete kept flashing in my head and I couldn’t believe he was really gone.

What an ugly brutal process Death is. Death and all its strange ways.

—

4:09 P.M.

The more we try to separate death and life, the more we see how intertwined they are. They are two sides of the same coin. I sit in sadness and silence at memories of Pete. Tears form. Hayden has to go back to work even though he is still processing, he calls me and tells me my sister got approved for the apartment they applied for. I am ecstatic and relieved for them. I go outside and sit with the sun on my face and feel happiness there too.

I hold both, death and life, in my hands at the same time. I stand up a little straighter. It’s the only thing that keeps me balanced.

On the drive home from putting Pete down, Hayden and I are crying off and on. Sharing memories of his long nose and his sad eyes, his Eeyore ways. When he stayed with us he used to wake up every morning and come see me on my side of the bed, and then go back to Hayden's side of the bed. I’ll miss that giant nub of a tail. I’ll never forget how he didn’t like me at first for stealing Hayden away from him. But then when he became my friend the memories were sweet and his kisses were softer than you would think. Hayden tells me again all the stories I’ve already heard of Pete but I don’t mind. I picture him in my mind’s eye— in a box on the side of the road with the name Popeye, in the pound when Hayden’s mom picked him out, the games he would play with the other dogs, his sneaky mischievous ways, how he ran after a trash truck and bit it, how he would always bark at planes, how particular he was about people, how he always stayed by Hayden’s side when he played the drums.

-

January 15, 2024

I keep thinking about how death makes us drop to our knees, but I guess so does life. We brace ourselves for death and what is to come but even so, we cannot fathom the hole in our hearts that will form from the loss of something. We know it will hurt but can you truly predict how a shattering heart will feel?

—

Not even a week has gone by since Pete’s death. Yet it seems like ages. So much has happened since then: A winter freeze, my sister got approved for an apartment, Hayden went under contract on a home we’ve had listed for 6 months, and I got my first fiction piece accepted in an online lit mag. The world keeps spinning. I am happy. But then I am sad I am happy. Because what about Pete? I wish he was here to be happy with us too. I don’t know why the timing of all this happened when it did. But maybe the good things and happy things are a reminder to us that death does not stop the world, even if it stops ours for a moment. Maybe it’s a reminder that death’s brutality is a reflection of life. Your heart can viciously break and you can laugh deeper than you have in awhile in the same day. It is not a dishonor to be happy amidst grief. It is an honor of how delicate life is. How bittersweet the world seems to always taste.

-

Back in the car, on the drive home from Pete’s death, I let the tears fall and looked out of the window. I turn back to Hayden and ask, “Do you think it takes a long time to get to heaven? Or do you think your soul instantly appears there?” Hayden pauses for a minute and then smiles, “Pete might wanna take the long way.”