Aftermath

It's been a very long time since I lost a dog. My childhood dog, Sunny, passed when I was 26. I am now 55. And this was the first time I had to make a decision about WHEN it was time. Anyone who has walked down this path knows it is one of the hardest things we can ever do.
It's been a full day without my Shiloh now. I tear up just writing that. But, on reflecting on his 11 short years here, I realize Shiloh was gone long before his actual passing. First it was the deafness. Then the Myasthenia Gravis. Then Cushing's Disease. Then the awful tumors. His life and his ability to enjoy it was slowly being stolen from him.
He was so very strong and brave and he fought so hard. I was always told I'd know when it was Time and yes, he did tell me. He'd struggled to get up the deck stairs and couldn't do it. I helped him up and he sank to the ground and looked up at me. He needed my help, and I needed to be strong. Finally that Monday morning it was enough.
Coming back home that early evening, I went into the basement to let the dogs out. They all were taken aback by my energy and wide-eyed and quietly, they all backed away from the gate to be let out. Typically when I come down to let them out they rush the gate, barking and tails wagging. Not this time. To my amazement, Daisy was clearly stricken by my grief. She was the first one who came forward and simply laid her head in my lap. I was deeply moved by her act of compassion. The other dogs gave me my space for awhile and I let them sort out the new emotions and energy running through our home.
This morning I learned a lot from watching the pack: they were RELIEVED. I didn't realize how much stress Shiloh's illness had been placed squarely on their shoulders. The little things they used to do are coming back: Pinch loves to roll on his back and watch me prepare the morning meals; the younger dogs running and playing in the yard. All of this had been quietly evaporating away as I attended to Shiloh's many afflictions.
But today was a good day. Tears will come frequently as I deal with my loss but dogs are so in the moment. I love sitting down and having all of them cover me with kisses. Moto is a rubber stamp, albeit much larger, version of Shiloh. It is wonderful to have his legacy right here. And in all the sadness there is a small miracle - Blitz appears to be in remission. It could be temporary but he is gaining weight, his coat has some luster to it and there is some regrowth of hair on his legs. Dusty seems to have had a full recovery from the blood clot on his spine and also is doing very well for a 16.5 year old Sheltie. There is so much here to enjoy.
I hope the passage of time will fade the memories of his long illness and be replaced by all the adventures and special times we had together. When I remember my Dad I don't remember the cancer any longer and I hope the same will be said of Shiloh.
He was just too special to be remembered any other way.