Goodbyes Suck

Today’s post is going to be a very personal post.

Why? Because I lost someone very special to me on Tuesday.

I had to say Goodbye. And goodbyes suck.

Monday, I awoke and life was normal. Pam arose early to let Lok outside and I stayed in bed with our boy Leviticus.

Little did I know that this was going to be the last day I’d get to spend with him. When I came home from work Monday night, there was family over but something was off.

Leviticus had no desire to eat. He also wouldn’t drink.

As the night progressed, we saw more changes. He began holding his head against the walls. He almost walked into our pond (man, did he ever hate the water and being wet). He also had trouble walking.

His hind legs would give out and he would fall. Then he’d get back up and walk a little. Then fall again.

We knew something was wrong when he wouldn’t take a chicken nugget from us. Instead, he turned his head.

Our hearts began to sink.

What A Great Dog Or Was He Something More?

Three years ago, I shared about the toughest decision I had to make when Pam and I had to put down our other dog Zane. He was a great dog.

But Leviticus… He was something special.

He was better than great.

He loved us. He loved us so much. And we returned that love.

He was wild and hyper and crazy in his young age.

Pam had Leviticus before her and I met. And I remember meeting her and him.

He was a bundle of energy. He had ups (Pam used to be able to get him to jump from the ground into her arms). He loved hikes and walks. He loved his treats. He loved being rubbed and cuddled.

He loved life. And he had a great one from the moment Pam rescued his dog-self from being put down at the pound 16 years ago.

He had a life other dogs wish they could have.

He was dotted on by us. He was dotted on by his grandmas and grandpas. My parents would give me bones to bring home to him to snack on. Oh, how he loved those bones.

Sadly, old age took its toll.

We saw his activity level slowly decline. His slick black coat began to change to a peppered grey. His love of squeak toys went away. His legs wouldn’t carry him up and down the stairs like they used to.

He was getting old.

Then Monday night happened. His body stopped working the way it should.

And we had to make a decision. Another crappy decision to say goodbye to the boy we love.

Tuesday, we made an appointment with the vet. We asked if there was any hope he would get better.

Her prognosis? He most likely wouldn’t make it through the night.

So, surrounded by Pam and I, Pam’s sister, and our friend Bobby, we said our goodbyes to our little man.

We held him. We wept over him. We told him we love him. We told him we is a great dog. We told him he wouldn’t be in pain any longer.

We said goodbye…

Oh, how we miss him. We miss coming home and being greeted by him at the door. We miss sleeping with him in our bed. We miss our walks. We miss the crazy looks he would give us. We miss worrying whether or not we’d come home to an accident in the house. We miss him coming up to us while we’re sitting on the couch or chair. We miss the treats we’d give him when he’d come inside. We miss having to help him get up and down the stairs. We miss his cuddles. We miss his barks. We miss his old dog breath.

We miss YOU, Leviticus.

We know he’s not in pain any longer. And for that we’re grateful.

Does it make it any easier to lose our dog? In a way, yes it does. In other ways, our hearts are broken.

We’ve lost what we considered our child.

For that, we’ll grieve.

Goodbye buddy. Leviticus, you are loved and never to be forgotten. Mom and dad will see you again one day soon.