How do I let my dog go & carry him with me at the same time?

Dear Sonya and Louis,

In early November, a few days before my dog Sully’s unofficial birthday, I had him euthanized. He was only three years old and in what I equated to his prime-time in life. Sully was my universe and all things turned with him since the day he was brought out of that old sheep farmer’s barn. From the day he came home, he provided himself both a terribly creative nuance in life and a cute nuisance, radiating all the energy of a small nuclear reactor. I adored him and he adored me…

From the start, Sully found a bemusing amount of trouble all the time on his running legs and became thus known as my ‘Fast Dog!’ – thanks to a swift completion of whatever trouble he wanted to get into and an even more speedy retreat. This title of his was said with all the emphasis of a cheerleading squad and he loved the attention he got for being a dark bolt of lightning everywhere he went. Everything about him – his solemn look of devotion, the happiness that lulled out of his features with his big ole tongue, the streamline sleek look he possessed when he tried to go ever faster over pasture and field just for the simple sake of what I called his ‘mocking the wind’ antics, and the sweet lazy moments when he curled up next to me in the tightest ball of shaggy fur – are all trapped images in my head. Every look, sigh and emotion I knew so well are on this sort of proverbial replay, becoming a fully installed form of mental torture sometimes and other times this treasure chest of memories I love. I still choke up in my apartment, littered with so many tennis balls, because he made me take out stock in them, his love of fetch now an empty game with no one at the other end.

For three whole years he was my best friend and in an instant of chaos that breaks my heart, I made the decision to euthanize him. Everyone was devastated – family, friends, the local vets who knew him, and all my neighbors. I still wonder what was robbed from us – the glory and beauty of being together. I want to take it back, to buy more time and find a better way to handle things, but what’s done is done. No reason under the sun seems enough to make that call once it’s over with, but at the time it was the only option.

Months later now, my boyfriend and I are now expecting a baby in October and I am beside myself with a continued weight of grief. It’s like a plague, drifting over my already hormonally-driven emotions, in a time when joy should be abound. It’s almost like a haunting – one I can’t agree to want or to push away. In dreams and just boring moments I empty back into memories of my lovely dog and it’s terribly painful. How do I let him go and carry him with me at the same time without it emotionally kill me? How do we forgive ourselves these burdens of life and death? Is he all right (spiritually)? And can heforgive me if I forgive myself for all that happened?

Thanks for your help.

- Adriana

Sully

Dear Adriana, 

Your beautiful Sully is here with me. He tells me how in his past life with you – you laughed and cried with him by your side and he tells me how much you love him. Well he wants you to cheer up because you will have his beautiful soul back with you. This time he has chosen a human body to come back into. Yes, all our souls have experienced being in all forms both human and animals. Sully tells me that both you and Sully have shared many past lives together. And you both have been in human form many times together in past lives. He wants you to know that he so looks forward to being in human form with you again. He wants you to let go of your grief. He is excited because this time he is going to return as a human baby. He was your child in dog form and now his soul will return as your child in human form. 

God bless you, 

Love, 

Louis (Read Through Sonya)


Comments

  1. Sorry for your loss. Often some vets pressure pet owners into euthenizing by telling owners the worst case scenarios. To a degree we all depreciate daily and if humans were euthanized by the same standards as dogs then there would not be that many. I was pressured but I remained adamant about not putting Sage down until she could not walk anymore. That was my personal gage. Vets would walk her to me after a treatment for cancer and had the nerve to say, ” I would put her down based on this…” Yet her tail was wagging and she walked on her own accord toward me. After dealing with vets during Sage’s cancer, I realized that only a few were not on the let her go into the light band wagon. I am sure that they would want someone to fight for their lives.

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