Why can't I stop crying?
Because a much-loved dog is NEVER just a dog.
Hello, Friend.
I’m so glad you’re here.
In today’s article, I’m tackling that topic I told you about in early January — the one that was too painful to talk about. It still is. But I’m going to try to put my heartache into words.
It’s been a difficult start to 2025 in my household. There have been a number of distressing things happening. Today, I’m sharing about one of them. The others will have to wait.
I share about this experience, too, because I know there are other pet lovers out there who are reeling from a recent, or not so recent, loss of a beloved pet. Perhaps you're one of them. Perhaps your loss was long ago. Or maybe you’re likely facing pet loss soon. Or maybe it’s still years out for you. Regardless, you’ve been there, or will be, at some point.
As the wonderful recently responded to a comment of mine about Titus following the loss of her dog Casey, “We are sisters in sorrow.” Indeed.
If you stick around and read this essay, I want you to know how much I appreciate your caring heart. If you relate, I wrote it for you. And it’s for you, too, Titus.
If you think my essay has value, consider hitting the like button, commenting, or restacking. Doing any or all of these means so much to me and helps get my article pushed out to more readers. Thank you for helping to normalize pet grief, too.
Why Can’t I Stop Crying?
Because a much-loved dog is NEVER just a dog.
(Same deal for cats or whatever pet has wiggled its way into your heart. If you’re a cat person, feel free to exchange “cat” for “dog” throughout this piece.)
On January 6 (yeah, I know, that date), Titus, our much-loved Frenchie, died. Unexpectedly. Way too soon. It was shocking, brutally so. He was only two and a half years old. Just getting started in his young life.
I’ve been trying to figure out how to write about this heart-breaking experience in a way that might be helpful not just for me, but for you, Dear Reader, too. The only way I know how to do that is by being completely honest and open.
So here goes.
Before going further, if you’re tempted to tell me I knew what I was getting into, or want to go even further by telling me French bulldogs are an unacceptable breed to consider bringing into your home and heart, maybe stop reading right here. That sort of thing has happened on social media. (Not directed at me, but to others.) Pros and cons of getting a Frenchie. Yep. I knew about both.
Such folks have valid points and even facts and data to back them up. But there is a reason the French bulldog recently became the #one dog breed in the country. These dogs are adorable. Affectionate. Great with kids. Wonderful travelers. Easy to care for. A perfect size. Smart. Adaptable. Don’t bark much. Comical. Energetic (in bursts). Cuddly lap dogs. And just plain lovable.
Of course, perfect they are not. They are a wee bit stubborn. Can’t take the heat. Their smooshed-in faces can mean breathing issues. And sometimes they have spinal issues, too. Due to breed-specific health issues, getting a Frenchie from a reputable breeder is an absolute must. As is quality vet care, of course.
Now, on with my story. I just needed to get the above off my chest.
One of the many things I’m most grateful to my parents (and other relatives) for is that they taught me what it means to love a pet.
One of my aunts used to joke that besides having the BRCA2 mutation gene, my mother’s side of the family also has a “dog gene”. Yeah, we’re a bit dog obsessed. That comment of hers will forever give me a chuckle.
As I wrote in my book, EMERGING: Stories from the Other Side of a Cancer Diagnosis, Loss, and a Pandemic:
My mother loved dogs, and we always had a dog when I was growing up. My dad pretended he didn’t care that much about them. Of course, we all knew better…
Sometimes, I think about my life in dog chunks, a timeline of dog lives intertwined with mine. There has always been at least one dog in my life at all times, so by the time you get to be my age, this adds up to be a fair number of dogs.
Having all these dogs weaving their way in and out of my life has opened my heart and taught me things — some of which I didn’t even realize I needed to learn. You can read about all that in my book, if that’s ever of interest to you.
The thing about having all these dogs in my life means, of course, there have been a lot of painful, tearful goodbyes. But losing Titus was different. His death didn’t follow the natural order of things. Dogs die young, yes, but even dogs aren’t suppose to die when they’re not yet three years old.
So here’s what happened.
Husband and I picked up Titus from the kennel following a trip to Texas to visit Son #one and family for New Year’s. That was late Friday afternoon. Saturday he and I went on our last walk together. Still fine. Saturday night he didn’t want to jump up on the sofa or recliner to sit with Husband or me. Didn’t think much of it.
By Sunday, he was exhibiting a couple odd movements. He was backing up while outside doing his business. A hind leg seemed to be bothering him a bit. We figured he’d hurt himself jumping on and off furniture and chasing Ninja, our cat. They were always excited to reunite after separations.
Sunday night we contemplated going to emergency vet services as his back leg seemed worse. After talking with them on the phone, we decided to wait till morning and see our own vet instead. They seemed to think this would be fine. (Big mistake)
During the night, Titus was panting quite a lot (a sign of stress and/or pain in dogs), so I got up with him. I took him outside and noticed both back legs weren’t working properly. I woke Husband and shortly thereafter, we headed to emergency vet services, a 30-minute drive.
Things went from bad to worse quickly. By this time, Titus was experiencing full-blown paralysis in his back legs. He needed a facility with even higher-level care. After pain meds and sedation were given to Titus, we were later cleared to head to a Twin Cities pet trauma center. Titus needed back surgery for an exasperated congenital spinal condition spotted on an Xray. That drive was roughly 70 minutes. I sat next to him, petting and speaking softly to him the whole time. He was pretty out of it, but I like to think doing both made him feel a little better.
While undergoing evaluation at the trauma center, Titus died. The vet, Husband, and I later surmised he likely died due to an allergic reaction to the meds he had been given earlier which ended up severely impairing his breathing. Titus never made it to surgery. We didn't even get to say goodbye to him or tell him once more how much we loved him. Our hearts were shattered into a million pieces.
Next, we were shuttled into one of those designated “sad rooms” with Kleenex boxes strategically placed everywhere. We spent a few minutes with Titus and tried to say goodbye. But how do you do that while in a state of shock and when he was already gone? It felt impossible. Because it was.
There were a lot of tears shed in that room. As I've mentioned before, you can tell a lot about a man by watching his heart break just like yours when your beloved pet dies. My heart ached for my own loss, but probably even more for Husband’s. He had wanted a Frenchie for years. Titus was supposed to be his retirement dog. It wasn’t meant to be.
Tears have continued at both expected and unexpected moments ever since that day. As I type these words, tears well up again. More than once since that day I have asked myself, why can’t I stop crying? Sometimes, I still wake in the middle of the night and have a private little cry.
Of course, I know the answer to that question. So do you. Titus was not just a dog. Your dog is never just a dog. Titus was family. Your dog is family, too.
Time with our pets is limited, and we know that going in. And yet, we willingly give our hearts to them anyway.
Why?
Because it’s worth it. The joy outweighs the inconvenience. The joy outweighs the exasperation. The joy outweighs the heartache. If there’s one word that best describes what a dog brings to one’s life, I would choose joy.
The EOL experience with Titus was harder because he was so young. And also because Guilt's cousin — Regret — has reared its head way too often since that awful day.
Regrets are always difficult, but when you realize there were signs you didn’t see, and as a result, didn’t act upon quickly enough, regrets can shatter your heart over and over again.
“What ifs” are always hard. Ask any cancer patient. Ask anyone. “What ifs” can take you to dark places.
No matter what medical situation you’re faced with, human or otherwise, you do the best you can with the information you have at the time. Again, ask any cancer patient.
Self-forgiveness isn’t easy. We’re always hardest on ourselves, right?
I'm getting there. But it still hurts. I still blame myself for not acting more quickly. Would it have mattered?
Maybe. Maybe not.
Titus reminded me every day about the importance of living in the moment, of just being. He reminded me that joy can be found in the smallest of things — like chasing a blowing leaf down the street while on one of our daily walks.
Mostly, Titus taught me about the purest sort of love. The uncomplicated kind. He reminded me what it means to be loved unconditionally and without judgment. That’s what pets are so good at — living their lives as perfect examples of love.
Titus’ life might’ve been brief, but his impact was great and will be long lasting. Of this, I am quite certain.
That is quite a legacy for a pup not yet three.
Thank you, Titus. You’ll be forever in our hearts.
NOTE: If you decide to get a Frenchie (or any other breed sucseptible to spinal issues), familiarizing yourself with intervertebral disk disease (IVDD) is essential.
Other articles I’ve written about pet loss you might like to read:
Pet grief is real grief too - 8 tips to help you deal with it
Saying Goodbye to a Dear Old Dog. Again.
Saying Goodbye to a Dear Old Dog
I would love to hear about an experience you’ve had with pet loss. Share about it with a comment below. Let’s have a conversation about losing our beloved pets.
Share about a beloved pet you’ve grieved for - recently or not so recently.
Do you have a tip for dealing with pet grief?
Has anyone ever said, or implied, that you should just get over it because your beloved pet was “just a dog” or “just a cat”?
Do you ever look at your life as a timeline of pets who’ve weaved in and out of it?
If you think my article has value, I’d be honored if you shared it. Together, we can help normalize pet grief, too.
Read more about pet grief in my latest book, EMERGING: Stories from the Other Side of a Cancer Diagnosis, Loss, and a Pandemic.
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As always, I see you. I hear you, and I care about what you have to say.
Until next time…
Take care of yourself, be kind to someone, and be a light.
With much gratitude,
Nancy
I'm so sorry. And I know how empty those words are when the pain still lives in your heart. Your little Titus died a sudden and excruciating death much like my beautiful Buda. He suddenly went into cardiomyopathy while we were in a hotel. Like Titus, he didn't jump up on the sofa to sit with me. I could see he was nervous, thought it was because he was in a strange place. Within the hour, though, he was writhing. Paralyzed back legs. Thrashing with claws out. There was no way I could've held and comforted him. Thank God, the hotel clerk helped us find an emergency vet a few miles away. They were ready to receive him and get him settled. And when the final hard decision was made and implemented, we were able to spend a few moments cuddling him. God, I'm crying now just writing this. I'm so sorry, Nancy. I'm so very sorry.
Oh, Nancy, I find my eyes well up with tears while I'm reading this. I am so sorry for this unimaginable, devastating loss for you and your family.
Please let yourself off the hook. You and your husband did the very best that you could for Titus. You are both only human. But I know that second-guessing ourselves comes naturally sometimes. Like you said, ask a cancer patient: I think, would I have gotten cancer had I left an abusive marriage sooner? No one knows.
Yes, let's discuss pets. I come from a family that dislikes/hates/fears animals, with the exception of my maternal grandfather, who raised homing pigeons and loved animals. Other than him, although I am biologically related to my family, I have very little in common with them, especially in the pet arena. I grew up loving/adoring/worshipping animals despite it all -- so much that I wanted to be a veterinarian and worked a few years at an animal hospital!
I've lost several cats over the years, and it is difficult as hell to lose a pet. When my cat Cosette, whom I adopted the day after I was diagnosed with breast cancer, died, I was lost. Still am. For 15 years, she slept with me every night, all night. She comforted me when I was sick with cancer treatments. Our cat Hemi had diabetes, but he was doing well. Then he felt what we thought was just under the weather, so we brought him in. His liver values were sky high. Unexpectedly for us. We made the humane decision to put in to sleep.
Our pets are members of our family, and they give us great joy. While we have them for only a short time, relatively speaking, they are worth spending our love on. Titus died way too soon. I am so saddened by this loss. As we know, grief has no timeline. Sending love and hugs.