Grieving My Dogs Before Their Deaths

Because of our dogs' truncated lifespans, we have the unfortunate privilege of caring for them in their last moments.

TW: Pet loss

I saw my future when I sat next to my mom as her dog was being put down. I was there to comfort her, but in reality, I was the one who needed comfort. I wept for her dog, Parker, who was taken too soon. I also wept for myself and my husband, Dave.

Dax, left, a black lab and coonhound mix; Bowie, right, a beagle and pug mix

Over the last 14 years, I have made my dogs, Bowie and Dax, one of my many personality traits. Anyone who knows me knows ‘the boys,’ even if they’ve never met. My dogs and their antics are so embedded in my life that by now I don’t know what life looks like without them, and that’s eventually going to be a huge problem.

What makes the impact worse is that I’ve planned my whole life around these two knuckleheads, way before they were even born. Growing up, I’d answer with “four dogs” whenever someone asked how many kids I wanted. During college, I was so anxious to have a companion that I promised myself I’d wait until my life had more stability before I adopted a dog.

Bowie showed up nearly one year to the day after my college graduation. I had no idea what a puggle was but after some investigation, I was satisfied to learn a puggle’s average lifespan is 15 years.

I remember thinking “Wow! I’ll be 40 when it’s time to say goodbye. That’s so far away!”

Reader, it was not far away.

As of this writing, Bowie is four months away from turning 15 and I am five months away from turning 40.

Dave and I are satisfied with our choice to remain childless, however, that means we’ve poured our time, energy, love and resources into our dogs. In a lifetime without kids of our own, they are the closest to children we will get. And because of their truncated lifespans, we have the unfortunate privilege of caring for them in their last moments. 

Knowing you will outlive your children 

An aspect of my thirties I did not consider until it happened was watching my friends grieve their pets. With social media making people’s lives more accessible, I grieved with my friends anytime one of the top three worst things you can post crossed my feed. 

The first gut punch happened when I learned our friends’ dog, Winslo, wasn’t doing well. Winslo was a staple of our mid-twenties. A pit-lab mix, he was Bowie’s best friend. The two loved roughhousing and their size discrepancies made them a hilarious pair. 

Dave and I were lucky to say goodbye to Winslo. We didn’t expect this luxury and had already grieved the fact that our last moments with Winslo were in the past. Having that last goodbye was bittersweet. I was happy to see him and so heartbroken it would be the last time. I wrapped my arms around him, instantly bursting into tears. As I pulled away, I noticed I smudged black makeup all over Winslo’s head. I later learned my friends kept it there for a bit, not ready for the finality of my relationship with their dog. 

I received another gut punch when a friend shared his pug, Chachi, passed. With Bowie being a pug mix and around the same age, I loved seeing their little similarities. There was a mutual appreciation for our dogs between us, so when I found out Chachi had passed, it was the hardest reality dose I’ve had yet. It was a signal that Bowie’s time was around the corner. 

This anxiety has unfortunately manifested through my dreams. Whenever I dream about my dogs, I am always trying to protect them. Most of the time I am trying to bring them home. Other times I attempt to save them from other dogs. When these dreams happen, I always wake up covered in sweat.

It doesn’t take a psychologist to connect the dots. My subconscious knows what’s on the way and she’s trying to protect her babies. 

Nearing the end 

I often think about their death order.

Bowie can live, and has, in a world without Dax. I don’t think Dax could live in a world without Bowie. It’s all he knows, it’s how—for better or for worse—Dax learned to be a dog. 

Thinking about Dax losing Bowie rips me to shreds. Bowie is our resilient one, Dax is not. Dax feels every emotion intensely. Sometimes, it’s to our benefit—like when he becomes our nanny on sick days—but Dax’s sensitivity has brought its fair share of challenges. Not knowing how Dax will respond gives waiting for their death sequence is another layer of anxiety.

So, to fill those gaps, we talk about what post-dogs life means for us. I can’t speak for Dave but thinking about what we can do after our dogs has given my depressing thoughts silver linings. 

I think about leaving the house with no concern about being back for feeding time. 

I think about our goal to spend a month in Philly every year. 

I think about vacations and not worrying about another creature’s well-being while we’re gone.

As much as I think these pleasant thoughts, they’ll never be enough. I know the inevitable is going to give me as much physical pain as it does emotional pain. My body is just waiting to misbehave and I must accept I can’t change the outcome. 

So, I cherish my moments instead. 

I’ve found I stay at home more, refusing to waste the little time left. I give more hugs. I give more kisses. I’m more generous with table scraps. 

Most of all, though, I’m more aware of how lucky I am. 

Many people do not get 14 and 12 years with their dogs, let alone experience healthy and energetic senior years. Of course, we’ve had our scares and midnight emergency vet runs, but our boys have been healthy their entire lives. (Well, except that one time Bowie ate 24 ibuprofen tablets.)

I don’t know how much time Bowie and Dax have but it’s an amount I can see. So, until then, I will be grateful and accept the grief I’m experiencing while my dogs are still alive. 

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