Had to say goodbye to my 9 year old Frenchie, Gonzo, a week ago and I’m still a complete mess. For a Frenchie, Gonzo had always been pretty healthy, then in mid-February during a walk he became extremely lethargic. We rushed him to the emergency vet, and found out he had a splenetic mass that was hemorrhaging and he needed emergency surgery. We were told there was a 60 percent chance it was cancer, and if it was cancer; there was a 60 percent chance he had an aggressive blood vessel cancer, Hemangiosarcoma. We opted for the surgery anyway (thank you pet insurance) and awaited the biopsy. A couple days later they confirmed he had Hemangiosarcoma and gave him a 1-3 month prognosis. We were told if he hemorrhaged again, surgery wouldn’t be an option.
Once he was healed from surgery things were pretty normal. His energy, appetite, and personality all returned and for a couple of months, he didn’t seem sick at all. Then last week, after a totally normal day, he was spending some time in the yard and suddenly wouldn’t get up, wasn’t interested in food or toys, and kept turning his head to the left. He didn’t seem distressed, just out of it. In that moment we knew this was it and made the decision to have him put down. It all happened in less than an hour. We stayed with him the entire time and although I’m happy we could be there with him, I can’t stop seeing him like that in my head.
I’m eternally grateful for the extra time we had with him. Over the last 2.5 months we did all of his favorite things and spent some incredibly meaningful time together.
It’s been a week since his passing and today is my first day alone at home without him. I’m completely distraught. I work from home and other than work trips and such, he and I spent nearly every day together for the last 10 years. He would cuddle with me on the bed every morning and evening. And even though he wasn’t always the cuddliest boy (depended on the time of day and his mood) he would always be there for me when I was sad and needed him. I feel emotionally drained, I can’t stop myself from getting emotional every time I see his things or think about him. He was so ingrained in my everyday life that I’m having to break habits and thought patterns I’ve developed and lived with all these years (closing bedroom doors when I’d leave the house, counting how many hours I’d been away, opening the freezer to get ice, even just opening the front door). I can’t even imagine getting rid of his toys and beds.
I know this is all part of the grieving process, but I can’t stop myself from feeling guilty for not being a better dog-mom sometimes, and feeling stupid for thinking that because he seemed fine on the outside he would make it longer than 3 months. It just all feels so shitty.