A Month Later
I’m deeply grieving the loss of my service dog.
I’m not sure where to begin.
Should I tell you how life-changing it was to have Shadow as my service dog? Should I tell you about the devastating day we learned he had terminal cancer, or the joyful moment when the doctor told us he was cancer-free?
Or should I tell you about the disbelief at the thought that he is gone?
So much life is packed into the story of Shadow of Light and Hope. It has been a month since he died, and I still struggle to accept that fact.
The Last Days
The morning Rick brought him to the hospital is etched in my memory. As I snuggled with Shadow in his bed, something deep inside me whispered that it might be the last time I’d see him there.
I wanted to hold him forever.
Then, out of self-preservation, I guess, I pushed the thought away.
Looking back, I wish I had stayed longer; I wish I hadn’t rushed off to work.
Over the next five days, Shadow endured many tests, MRIs, X-rays, and major surgery. When I visited him after the surgery, I could see the exhaustion and sadness in his eyes. Still, I held onto hope.
The doctors told us he was strong. The surgery had gone well. He was recovering, and I was already imagining him coming home the next day.
Then things changed. The meds weren’t working.
The doctors explained that he needed a total platelet exchange to remove antibodies from his blood. They felt he was a strong candidate for the procedure and were confident about moving forward.
“Go ahead,” I said. “Do what it takes.”
Later, they gave an encouraging update. “He’s doing well. We’re almost finished.”
A huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have my boy back home.
The Call I Never Expected
Then the phone rang.
It was the last call I would ever receive about my Shadow.
“Shadow had an event.”
My world stopped.
“Oh my God,” I managed to say. “Can I come see him?”
Rick and I rushed to the hospital, our hearts pounding. We prayed. We hoped. We tried to outrun reality.
But we were too late.
He was already gone.
My boy, my protector, my Shadow.
Gone.
What I Wish I Could Tell Him
As I write these words, guilt still washes over me.
I am so sorry, Shadow.
Those last days were so hard, and I hate that you endured so much. You gave me more than I could ever repay. You stood beside me when I needed you most. You protected me. You loved me.
I’m so sorry, Li’l Man.
And I love you still and forever.
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Who knew grieving the loss of my service dog could be so difficult?
If you wonder how to talk to young people about pet loss and grief, check out this beautiful post by Charlotte Pomerleau in Central Mass Moms.
