3 Years

3 Years and 2 days ago, we were on our way back to Great Falls with what would be one of our greatest joys in our life and our biggest heart break of 2016. I've been missing her and thinking about her a lot today. Cried a bit, but I like to think that I've smiled more. It breaks my heart knowing that we didn't get the time we wanted and hoped for. We always knew we might not have that much time with her, we just didn't know it would be that little. We had also hoped for more warning.

Sometimes I wonder if we could have saved her. If I had known puppy CPR; if we could have saved her life. If I could have restarted her heart or not.

We live with constant trauma from that night. Trigger had a nightmare about 2 weeks ago and had been whining in his sleep. I went to put my hand on his leg to calm him and wake him like we always do, and it scared him awake, and he was crying like he was in severe pain. He was fine. But it sent me into a panic with not a moment of solid sleep after that.

I see that night in my head like a bad movie. Over and over again. I see the light that leaves her eyes while she's lying there in our hands as we yell her name at her like we think it's going to bring her back.

It's same moment that stops my heart when Trigger is sleeping so hard and dreaming so hard, and he acts like he can't breathe but he won't wake up, so you have to literally shake him to wake him.

We miss her. There have been times I have felt guilty about having Trigger and not her. I've never been much for religion, but sometimes I wonder, if there was a being in charge of all of this, was it their way of punishing us for having 2? Or loving too much? Was she meant to be an only dog? At the same time, I don't know how we would have gotten through all of it like we did without him. Coming home to an empty house would have been too much. He gave us purpose.

I hope she's loving the rainbow bridge. Sometimes I wonder if she made it. Sometimes I feel her here, not like I did when we first lost her, but from time to time. This morning Trigger did the very thing that Zyera used to, every morning, that used to make us smile from ear to ear. He bowed at my feet and gave me a little whine that was also part howl, something he had never really done before.

<3

Time Passes, Whether You Feel It Or Not

It's been months. A little over 5 if we're counting. Next month, she would have been 3.

3. She didn't get enough time.  I appreciate everyones kind words over the last few months, but I still miss her terrribly.  Trigger fills a different void that I didn't know was there. I call him my sensitive sally, he's intuitive and knows when I need to hold him.

They would have been best friends. I can only imagine the rough housing and laps that would have been ran around my house and yard. The tussling and growling. I miss her voice. I'm not even sure I can dream it right.  Sometimes Triggers fur, when clean, feels just like hers, and sometimes that makes me cry.  I find myself comparing her to the German Shepards at the dog park, in how they do or do not obsess over a tennis ball or frisbee, wether their voices sound like hers.  The blue eyes in the huskies at the park sometimes freeze me and I have to tell myself to get with the program.

Sometimes I look at her "urn" on the shelf and wonder to myself how someone so so stinking precious and with such a big heart and soul could possibly fit in that little canister. Like, how can someone be reduced to something so small? I started working on a shadowing for her, but I couldn't choose a photo in the hundreds of photos and videos without crying or forgetting what I was doing.

Someone asked what my favorite part of my dogs personalities are, and it made me sobbing upset to think that I can't decide what was my favorite or how I can just pick one of the many traits I miss. Even the bad ones.  Lets face it. There's no such thing as a bad dog, just different.

You never move on, you never get over it. You just learn how to move along, how to cope, how to continue because you can't do it any other way. She may have been "just a dog" to you, but to me, she was so so so much more.

Stages Isn't How Grief Works

The 5 stages of grief.  At least that is what they call it.  Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance.  They list it out like its something that can possibly be quantified or measured. Like they happen in that order.

What they don't tell you is that it all hits you.  Sometimes all in 1 day. Usually in no particular order.

When we lost her, Ethan, that night fell to pieces in a fraction of a second. Me? I went right into denial and bargaining.   Pleading with him to help me get her to the vet, silently hoping that she was going to be okay.  I saw her heart stop, and the light leave her eyes, and still I was bargaining.  Pleading inside that the vet would have some miracle cure and save her even though after only half and hour I could feel how cold her body was.  Even when the vet was examining her, I was nodding to her and listening to her check every possible spot for a pulse, while she looked at me and could tell that I was pleading to her. It wasn't until she looked at me and said "I'm so sorry" that i finally hit the depression part.

The denial is still there.  That's the hardest part. Convincing our hearts that there is no fix.

I've been angry too.  I know many of you are faithful people who believe in one deity or another.  I have never truly believed in it.  In loosing her, it makes it even harder.  I believe that were there a deity of some kind they wouldn't allow things like this to happen.  They wouldn't allow children to be starved, beaten, sold, abused, neglected, tortured, and killed.  They would want animals, faithful loving companions who only know how to love and be compassionate, to die, in pain, and scared.  They would have found a way to alert us, make us aware, and help us make a choice to allow her to leave us, in a way that didn't cause her pain.  That is probably what I am most angry about.  She didn't deserve to leave this earth that way, she deserved a little more dignity than that.

I thought I was accepting this.  I thought I was doing okay.  I think I mostly pushed it to the back of my mind so I could continue to do.

I was updating my December Calendar with my vacation and my days off.  And as I was looking through the days, I came upon the 3pm vet appointment on the 19th and a reminder to give her the Bravecto for fleas on the 23rd. And I lost it.  There's a dose of Bravecto in the landfill somewhere because that made me cry a week or so ago. We still have her food.  I keep meaning to take it to the shelter to donate, but I keep "forgetting."

The other morning I called Trigger, Zyera again.  It was early in the morning and I was letting him out to potty and he went to run down the hall to snuggle in bed instead and I said "NO! ZYERA, CRAP TRIGGER, GET OVER HERE, GO OUT AND POTTY"

He's going to have a complex.  Sometimes I tell him hes a good girl. 😭
He doesn't care though.  He just wiggles his little butt and brings me a toy.
He doesn't come when hes called... but if you say "bring it here" he comes to you.  He's a character. Just like she was.  Sometimes I wonder if she hasn't passed on and if she is still hanging around the house, entertaining herself with all the tennis balls she murdered over the years.  If she's the reason he's such a good dog and doesn't get into too much trouble, because she's there whispering in his ear "don't do that, that will get you spanked you little shit."

I don't know if I believe in Heaven or if that is just something humans made up to make themselves feel better.  Part of me believes in reincarnation... so if that is true and possible, I hope whomever has the soul of our sweet dog loves her as much and spoils her as much as we did. I hope they know how much she loves having an operable back window in the truck, how she loves to ride IN the cab, not the box.  I hope they know she is stubborn and will milk any special treatment she gets.  How much she loved tennis balls. And how she hates feet.  I miss having a blanket monster at our house.

I miss her. Every day.  I talk to her ashes more often than I probably should. And sometimes I stare at the canvases in the living room and loose track of how long I have been staring.

Thanksgiving Grief

Today, it's been strange.  Grief is strange.

As I drove to work yesterday I was thinking of all of the things I have to be thankful for.  Our friends and family who have supported us though this roller coaster of a year.  The friends and family who have been there for me when I just couldn't hold it together anymore.  My co-workers who knew when I was about to go to pieces, and would cover for me, or hug me. Whatever I needed.

For a roof over our heads, food in the home, and nice cars. Even if mine resembles a golf ball.

Then I thought to myself.  "I'm so thankful for our dogs. I don't know what I'd do without them"  and then it hit me.  Perhaps the biggest support system I had all year, the one who held the most tears, hugs, who made me laugh and smile, and made everything easier is gone. Gone.  Not on a vacation, not visiting other family. Gone.

I spent the whole drive to work practically sobbing.  When I got to the parking lot, I dried my face, sucked it up, and went in. They could tell it been a tough morning, and didn't pry further.

Today, until bedtime I spent most of the day, reminiscing about her.  We spend time these days talking about the differences between her and Trigger. How much of a sensitive Sally he is, how tough she was.  How he chews with his feet, and uses his nose.  How she wouldn't hold anything in her paws and only used her nose for squirrels, bunnies, and hide-n-seek.

I still see her in my head. Being her. I remember the weekend before we lost her.  She was so so happy to get to go visit grandma's house and ride in the car. There was no way she'd let me leave without her.  She loved the drive.  I spent and still do spend a lot of time checking the back seat for her to see what kind of crazy sleeping method she had, or how dramatic she was being about the window being up.

Grief is strange.  One second I'm fine. The next I'm bawling all over again.

I'm learning how to be without her.  Today we let Skyler and Ann's dog, Nova, and Trigger have some interaction.  When Nova would growl at him trying to play, I would remember that Zyera made those exact same sounds to her. And how Zyera learned to be gentle with Nova just as Nova will someday learn to be with Trigger, and how Zyera did with Trigger.

I find myself writing these in moments of grief and saddness. I lay in bed with tears on my face, hoping if I write it all down and get it out I'll sleep better. To an extent that's true.  I look at the calendar to see what the date is and I count the never of days or weeks since we lost her.

I wonder if it would have been easier had We known. Had we been able to plan, say good bye, and let her leave us in peace, and pain free. I also wonder if cremation was the right choice for her. It was what we needed, and still do.

This isn't how I wanted to feel for the holidays.  For the 2nd year in a row it just doesn't feel like the holiday season, which is why, SPOILER ALERT: I have not started on any Christmas gifts...SO GOOD LUCK WITH THAT. ANY IDEAS WOULD BE APPRECIATED.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING. GOBBLE GOBBLE.

Be thankful for what you have, keep your loved ones close and never miss the chance to tell them tell them you love them. Life isn't guaranteed. Tomorrow, is a gift. And those who support and love you in return are meant to make sure you don't go it alone, and have someone to turn to.

Many people have a hard time with the holidays.  If you need help. Ask.  Don't let you consume you.  If you feel like crying? Cry. Sometimes it actually helps.

Its sneaks up on you.

Tonight, while standing at the dryer folding laundry, I called out to her,  something I've done many times while doing simple tasks in the past. Maybe out of habit, maybe because I forgot, maybe because I still don't believe it. I don't know.

I think of her almost all the time.  When I spend to much time on Pinterest pining quotes about dogs. When I drive by the park we used to play fetch at. When my photo on my desktop at work changes I always minimize the Windows to see if it's one of her.  Tonight I changed the sheets on the bed finally, but not entirely. They are piled in the corner of the room with the pillowcase folded neatly in the closet in case I forget how she smelled.

Every night I put Trigger to bed, I pause at the temporary shelf she sits on to tell her I love her, she's a good dog, and goodnight.

The tears don't come as easily now, but I still cry every day.

Speaking of Trigger.  He reminds me of her. When he greets someone at the door I'm reminded of her at his age. Or how she should be there next to him, howling and barking.  I hold him at night and watch him sleep, just like I had done just about every day of her life. I think of how precious she looked on the rare occasion that she snuggled me.  When he crawls in bed with me in the morning I am always telling him "that's where she should be" as I point to the foot of Ethans side of the bed.

We hung the bells on the door in hopes Trigger would learn to use them from her to let us know he needed to potty, She passed the next day.  Everytime they jingle, I think of her.  He still hasn't figured that out.

I hid her bed in the closet. I'm not ready to part with it, but I can't look without feeling sad either. 

He uses her food dishes, and in some respect that feels wrong, but they shared the same water dish, and 3 bowls doesn't make sense. He's almost out of puppy food, and I dread going to petco without her and the feelings that with bring up.

I find myself avoiding saying her name.  Zyera, Zyera, Zyera.  Like not saying it makes it easier, but it probably makes it worse. I have to conciously avoid saying "how are my puppies" and make sure it's not plural.

I received our monthly email from the veterinarian selling us a parasite protectant...the only difference was 1 email instead of 2, one for each.  I still haven't deactivated her microchip.

Next year we are planning a trip to Moab, Utah. Originally I was going to arrange a puppy sitter, but I don't care what it costs extra or how many times we need to stop...we aren't leaving Trigger behind.

It gets easier, if only for a moment.

Its been a week since we lost her.

It has been getting easier, slowly.  It takes one moment to put me right back where I was a week ago.  A crying mess.  This morning I was already missing her.  I knew the vet would be calling to tell me her remains were ready for pick up, but that didn't make the phone call any easier, or the sound of the receptionists voice on the other end, I know that is not how she wanted to start her Monday either. Making those heart breaking phone calls. 

We miss her almost every second of the day.  The house is too quiet now. 

Everyone keeps asking me how we are doing.  I tell a partial lie and tell them that we are okay. Which is partially true.  We are okay when we are missing her in the back of our minds and not thinking about her. Give us a few minutes of thinking of her and we aren't as okay as we were.  Anyone who thinks "they're just a dog" clearly never allowed themselves to make a connection with them.  And I'll be the first to tell you, they deserve to be truly connected and loved by their humans. 

The tree in the yard doesn't make me cry anymore, but the bunnies do.  I get choked up when I get out of the shower and she isn't laying there in the hallway waiting on me.  She isn't in the window when I come home from work.  We miss the crunching of her bean bag chair when she got comfortable in bed at night.  I miss the way she would bark and howl and spin in circles when we asked her if she wanted a teeth treat.  I miss her begging us to acknowledge that she wanted a teeth treat.  I miss snuggling in bed with her in the morning while Ethan is getting ready for work.  I miss her staring at me on the weekends because she needed to potty and I was sleeping too late.  I miss tripping over her while I'm trying to cook in the kitchen.  I miss the feel of her fur, how you could run your fingers through and hold on, the way she smells.  I miss her trying to open the door while I'm trying to use the bathroom.  I miss seeing her on my lunch. 

Friday the girls at the coffee shop asked how Zyera and Trigger were getting along--I cried the whole drive to work. I cried when I called the vet last week to find out when her ashes could be picked up.

I drive to work and I think of the drive we took that night to take her to the vet, hoping and praying that she wasn't gone, wrapped in a blanket on Ethan's lap in the backseat of my car. I drive home at night and I think of driving home that night. Without her. Crying the whole way.

I still haven't grown the courage to change the sheets in the spare bedroom because that's where we lost her, and I know if I do that, shes not here to mess them up. 

She was caught nesting in our guests bed.  Shouldn't have left the door open I guess.  She was hoping they wouldn't move her.

I still catch myself grabbing an extra treat for her when its bedtime or I leave the house.  I miss her darting out the front door to search the yard for squirrels and bunnies.  I miss telling her shes a "Bad Dog."  I miss cleaning up shredded laundry sheets and cotton from toys which have had too much play time.

Saturday morning I drove by our old apartment like I do most mornings only to see her friend Bubba in the yard running around having fun.  And that made me cry all morning.

Everyone tells me they wish they could help, take the hurt away.  And it will happen one day, but it will take time.

Losing her is different than I remember.  She was different.  I've never met a dog with her personality. I've never met a dog who stalked the UPS man in hopes of a barkbox.  We raised her.  We decided what was good for her, when to fix her, how much food she could have or couldn't have. We raised her without people food, and I almost wish we had just given her every table scrap ever. 

She was the friendliest dog I have ever known.  She would greet the meter man at the gate when he came to read our gas meter.  He would reach over the fence, scratch her head, read the meter and be on his way.  She had no stranger danger.  She protected me like her life depended on it.  We quit going to the dog park because of that.  She needed to greet every dog.  If an ungreeted dog got too close to me, she came unglued.  She tried to make friends with a Rattlesnake. 

Until we meet again.  We Love You. 💖🐶

Zyera. Always and Forever. RIP little Angel.

To all of our family and friends who have offered their love and support for us during the last few days... Thank you. I know many will say "It's just a dog, move on," but she was so so much more than "Just a Dog"

She filled a void in our lives that we didn't know was there.

She protected us.

She was silly, stubborn, sassy, and strong.

She put a smile on our faces. Every. Day.

She was the first one I wanted to hug after a hard day.

She trusted us.

Perhaps more importantly than all of that, she LOVED us. Truly and unconditionally. Even when she was in trouble, she loved us.

She's left a hole in our hearts that is impossible to fill or mend. The only time I am not thinking of her or reliving that night is when I am sleeping.

I had to shut the door to the spare bedroom because I cried every-time I looked in there.

I had to throw away the dog's pumpkin not just because it was starting to get moldy, but because that made me cry too. Even when my mind isn't thinking of her, my heart is. I can feel it.

I know this will get easier, some day. I'm still waiting for that day to be in sight. This is me trying to figure out a way to start healing.

Her wings were ready but our hearts weren't. I still speak to her at night, and tell her i love her and shes a good dog and to sleep well, even if i am saying it to the ceiling.

Trigger helps. Maybe somewhere someone knew what was going to happen and knew we would need something to love, take care of, and remind us why we got Zyera to begin with. He won't fill that void, fix it, or cover it up. He was supposed to grow with her, learn from her, and be each others best friends. But he's a good dog, a smart dog, and he'll learn how to be the best he can be. He makes this easier, if even a little bit. Just yesterday over lunch he was being very silly. He was running laps around the couch...we were smiling and even chuckling just a little as we counted the laps. He snuggles. And when i'm ready to break down and cry again he cuddles right up to me and loves on me. He's growing his own little spot in our hearts which i am sure one day will leave us feeling like this all over again, i hope that day never comes, but it inevitably will.

So we thank you. Family and friends who have offered their love and support. It is without love and support that we truly would never make it through. You each loved her in your own way, and i know many of you will miss her terribly too. I will be working on a shadow box to go with her cremated remains for our home, and will share that too when the time comes. I encourage each and every one of you that wishes to, to share a story, a photo, or anything you wish to to help us celebrate her life. As much as this hurts, I know that she would want us to be happy people and to live our lives like she was here. I was going to include her collar with her shadowbox, but it has become apparent that it belongs where Ethan has put it. In the Jeep. Because where the jeep went, she went. On adventure after adventure. And there are many more adventures to be had.

We love you baby girl. Until we meet you again. Be free. Run with the wolves, catch many tennis balls. Your fish taco will be kept safe and sound. Much Love.