After

It’s been three months since we said goodbye to Missy. I knew it would be tough—she was such a huge presence in our home, and I miss her countless times every single day. What I didn’t realize was just how huge the hole in my heart would be, left behind by a little 21-pound dog.

In the past months, we’ve donated many of her things to a local rescue and passed along other items to friends who also have dogs. We held on to her favorite toys, even though she hadn’t played with them in over a year—we just couldn’t let them go. They still sit in the basket in the living room.

I don’t see her hair on my Swiffer or in the vacuum anymore, though now and then I still spot a stray strand on blankets or comforters, and even those are becoming rare. I’m afraid soon there won’t be any left. Her nose smudges still stain the bathroom and bedroom doors, from when she’d burst in to make sure she wasn’t missing out on anything fun. I’m not sure I want to wipe them away—at least not yet.

Some days, the sadness feels overwhelming, mostly because I can’t shake the feeling that I failed her. I feel I let her down, and if I had just held on a bit longer and been stronger, maybe she could have enjoyed more good days. I’ve been a supporter of the Senior Dog Sanctuary in Mount Juliet, TN, for many years, always having a soft spot for sweet frosty-faced senior dogs, and yet I felt I let down my own senior girl. 

When I look at the pictures of Missy from our last week with her, I can see it—the pain, the anxiety—and it hurts to see it now. At the time, watching her suffer, I knew in my heart we were doing the right thing, giving her a dignified passing and sparing her from more pain than she deserved. I knew it then, but now, with my heart missing her so deeply, I can’t help but feel remorse. I absolutely did not want her last day to be her worst day, but I sometimes feel I deprived her of good days too. 

I miss her, and I miss the version of myself I was when I was with her. She was a silly little dog, and I was just as silly with her. I love people, but deep down, I’m an introvert, and Missy had a way of pulling me out of my shell and out of the house. Missy adored people, and the way she would run to greet them made it easier for me to connect with others too. I miss that and I needed that.

I know in my heart we did the right thing, sparing her from more pain and suffering, but there are moments when missing her hurts so much I second-guess my decision. She depended on me for everything her whole life, and I wanted to make the best decision for her. I know, in time, the pain will settle into a different place and missing her won't hurt so bad. Eventually, my heart will heal and be filled with the silly, goofy little Missy moments that brought so much joy to our lives. 

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