• Goodbye Sweet Shadow

    Published May 12th, 2008

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    For those of you that don’t know Shadow’s story, he was the oldest member of our family.  At the age of 18 years, our boy was diagnosed with an aggressive tumour of his anal gland that had spread to the local lymph node.  He also had a separate problem in his back, that we had been managing successfully with acupuncture.  Sadly, the tumour either spread to his brain or he had a separate problem there as he developed an intermittent circling problem, and then had a pretty serious seizure a few days ago.  Unfortunately, this seizure confirmed my suspicion that it had gone to his brain.  While he remained happy in between the episodes, and recovered well from the seizure, we could tell that the cancer was starting to take its toll on the little guy.  We wanted him to have a good quality of life, and go with dignity before he had another seizure that would force that decision.

    Last Tuesday, my brother came to our home in Southern Ontario, and my husband drove us, Shadow, and our two dogs up to my parents’ home.  We spent a wonderful afternoon with everyone by the lake, had some family and friends come over to spend time with Shadow that evening, and gave him all of his favourite foods–even M&M cookies.  My parents spent one last night with the little man, and the next morning we said goodbye to Shadow.  We decided to do it at home where he felt safe and comfortable, and could have unlimited time to say goodbye.  Shadow went peacefully, surrounded by a family of dogs and humans who love him dearly. 

    Dear Shadow,

    I miss you little man.  Over the last 18 years, we’ve grown up together, lost Jasper, found Kira, and been through a whole host of good and bad times.  Over the last several weeks, you and I, we’ve been together almost 24 hours a day.  I’ve witnessed some pretty amazing things with the acupuncture, how you interacted with the other dogs, and am glad that we helped your back pain.

    Almost 18 years ago when we met you, you were very fearful, and had a difficult time trusting anyone since your first family had dumped you and left you to fend for yourself until the shelter picked you up.  Since you joined our family, you’ve always been most attached to Ruwan and Jaspy, since they best understood your unique personality.  I was always the one who had to give you your vaccines, trim your nails, and pull your blood samples over the years–so you weren’t always thrilled to see me in the past, but I can certainly understand that and never faulted you for it.

    Over the last couple of months, I’m grateful for all of the time we’ve spent together, and that we’ve gotten to know each other on a completely different level.   I’ve always known that you were a sweet, affectionate dog, but I’ve never seen it more than in the last few weeks when we were doing everything we can to try to make you comfortable and preserve your life.  You are a fighter, and I saw that with how you worked so hard to recover well from every neurological episode you had.  As long as you were ready to keep fighting, we were right there behind you every step of the way.

    That night you had the big seizure, and we snuggled together tight for the rest of the night until it was early enough to call mom, dad, and Ru, I knew you were almost ready to go.  I never thought I’d be able to trust myself to read the signs properly when you were going to tell us you were ready, but I did.

    That afternoon we all spent together by the lake was the happiest I’d seen you and everyone else in a while.  We took so many nice pictures, and you really enjoyed yourself and the rare occasion that all 5 humans and 4 dogs from your whole family were all together in one place.  That evening, we had a celebration of your life, and everyone came over to wish you well on the journey you were about to take.

    I’m glad you got to spend one more night with mom and dad, as I know you hadn’t gotten to spend much time with them in the past few weeks.  You were always such a good boy in the car, especially with all of the traveling we did between your doctor in Toronto, here, and driving up North.  We were happy to meet halfway twice a week so you could spend some time with them…that rest-stop off of highway 400 will always have special meaning to me.

    The morning we finally said goodbye to you has been the hardest day of my life so far.  I didn’t want to be the one to do it, but I knew I needed to:  I knew that you would’ve been scared in a strange, cold, clinic, where we would feel rushed, and you would have to be handled by strangers.  While it was very difficult, I don’t regret it, because you went peacefully, and you were surrounded by the family of humans and dogs you have known your whole life.  Although I have put in a million IV catheters, and laid to rest quite a few animals over the years, none will ever compare to yours.  My hands were shaking so badly that day, but not doing it perfectly for you just wasn’t an option.  I’m glad that you slept peacefully though the whole thing, and that everything went properly and smoothly–even though I was scared, I felt it was the least I could do for you after all you’ve given us and been through.

    While I miss you terribly, I feel relieved that you are not suffering, that you will never have another seizure, and that you got to leave this life peacefully and in the comfort of your own home and family.  I only hope that I can one day feel that same peace.

    Today we picked out and planted a raspberry bush in the back yard for you.  It reminds me of you because it’s a little bit prickly on the outside, but so so sweet on the inside. 

    You really were our Shadow, following us wherever we went.  I know that even though you are physically gone, you will continue to shadow us in the days, months, and years to come.  Beyond that…I know we will meet again little guy.  As a family of Buddhists, we wish that you have enough merits to have an even better time in your next life, because you deserve nothing more. 

    Bye my little angel. dscn4193.JPG
    Love from your sister,

    Amanda

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    5 Comments

    1. Nan on May 12, 2008

      Shadow we all miss you terribly, I keep thinking about you all day. I can imagine how affectionate and sweet my little Shadow was, he followed me everywhere and I miss him somuch. Kira is missing you and has been sleeping all the time. I wonder what’s going on in her little mind. We will always think of you and the happy memories you gave us over the years.

      Love you Shadow,

      Mom, Dad and Kira

    2. Kalum on May 15, 2008

      Dear Shadowman!

      You were larger than life! You have given me soo many fond memories that I will never forget. I know through these memories, your legacy will live forever! It didn’t matter how old you were and the fact that I haven’t seen you for a long time; you always recognized me and followed me. Where ever you are, just keep smiling little man!

    3. pam on May 15, 2008

      I’m so sorry for your loss. My girls Tess and Zoe will keep him busy at the Bridge until you two meet again…

      {{{Hugs}}}

    4. Natalie on May 16, 2008

      I came via the canine carnival. I’m so sorry for your loss. Got me all teary just reading your blog. It sounds like you gave Shadow a wonderful life and you have many amazing memories. There needs to be more great dog owners in this world like you and your family! Take care.

    5. Amanda Milne on May 16, 2008

      Mom, I’m sure our little S misses you too. I feel like he’s watching over us now…

      Kalum, Shadow has always enjoyed the time with his cousins. To our family you are all brothers and sisters :)

      Pam, Thanks for your good wishes and for including Shadow in the Canine Carnivals–the positive energy for him was much appreciated.

      Natalie, Thank you for your kind words, and for helping us to focus on how Shadow got to live his life to the fullest…in the end that’s what really counts.

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