Izzy: One Year Later

Writing this entry has been on my mind for the last month. What was I going to say? Did I need to even do this at all? I decided I needed to express what I’m feeling, whether anyone reads this or not. The feelings are still raw and I honestly can not believe I’ve gone a year without my sweet Izzy by my side. I’m sure I’m gonna cry and have to take breaks while typing this. Everyday I get busy and my mind is preoccupied with other things. But in the quiet moments in the morning and before bed, the loss all comes flooding back. The hole in my heart aches. And the tears begin to flow. Every single day since January 18th of last year I’ve felt grief and longed for my furry companion curled up next to the bed or sitting by the front door looking out at the world.

The events of January 17th are still a blur in my mind. I remember seeing the other dog come running over to Izzy and thinking nothing of it. I figured they’d sniff each other and that’d be it. From the attack onward all I remember is blood and picking Izzy up and running home with her and frantically screaming at Jane to drive us to the vet. Izzy lay with her head on my lap, shivering in fear, and whimpering. I didn’t know at the time, but her back had been injured. Her back legs didn’t work. We got her to the vet. The diagnoses was she had a cracked vertebrae and several deep puncture wounds. They clean her up and we took her home. But that night she just yelped and couldn’t navigate around. She had several accidents. She cried all night. And so did Jane and I. My heart ached for her. I came to the conclusion that she should be put to sleep. A decision I’ve regretted every single day since.

The next day, January 18th, we took her back to the vet and started the process of putting her to sleep. I told the doctor I didn’t have the energy to care for her and I couldn’t stand to see her suffer. In hindsight, I still question my decisions. Would she have recovered? Could she be here sitting by my side right now? Those are the things that still cycle through my head every evening. Did I do the right thing? As Izzy fell asleep for the last time, I held her and told her I loved her. She went limp and my companion of 16 years was gone. I wailed. I was angry. I was sad. I felt lost. I had been her caregiver, her companion, and her best friend for so many years. Where was she? Was she just gone? Or was she somewhere missing me like I missed her? Does she grieve for the loss of our bond like I do? Does she have the same gaping hole in her heart.

Life has gone on. But there hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought of her. I swore I’d never be able to walk the path over at the park again ever. I had walked that path twice a day, everyday, for the last 10 years with her. Too many memories. It took a few months, but I did go over and walk the path for the first time. I cried the entire time, remembering so many interactions and events I shared with her there. Meeting up with Pokemon friends and Izzy getting all the love and attention. Slipping on ice and both of us falling. Every tree that got sniffed for the previous message left. And of course, the attack. I now walk that path everyday. I still think of her. It has gotten easier, but some days are worse than others. I suspect today’s walk on MLK day (the day it happened) will bring back a flood of emotion.

As I said, I regret putting her to sleep. Was it the right thing to do? Probably. But I also wonder if she’d be with me today ready to take a walk if I hadn’t made that decision. Yes, her legs were getting old and she was beginning to have trouble getting up and down the stairs. Things were gonna change, regardless of the attack. But was I selfish because I didn’t want to watch her go through the rehab? Was I just too tired with my own health issues? I’d give anything to have her here today. But all of this is what-ifs. I made the decision to put her down and Jane concurred, as did the Vet, who I’ve known for 25 years and I trust. He said in his next life he wants to come back as my dog, because of the love and care I gave Izzy. I knew that day I picked her up at “Mingle with the Mutts” and saw those eyes that we were meant for each other. We both gave each other what we needed.

Izzy, we miss you. Every day we feel the loss of your presence. I swear I hear your collar jingling as you come up the stairs. I hear your panting as you plop down next to the bed exhausted. I hear your cute little barks as your feet move while your dreaming of running. My stupid scientific brain believes you are just gone. A part of me hopes that isn’t true and that you are somewhere running around and waiting for us to be reunited, because that will be a wonderful thing, if true. I’ll wrap you in my arms and feel your soft fur once again. You’ll be so excited your little butt will wiggle back and forth and you’ll bark up a storm. I haven’t forgotten you. I turn around in my chair and I see you lying here with you eyes shut tight dreaming and content. We had a good life. I miss you!