My Heart Aches For You

Dear FETCH Friends,

T his is by far the hardest piece I have written. My heart hurts beyond measure. On April 16, 2021, I made the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make. I chose to let my best friend go. I still struggle with knowing if I made the right decision for her. She was and is my heart dog. I’ve had two thus far in my life, but this one was the hardest to let go. For months I’ve been in a very dark place filled with guilt, sadness, anger and disgust. I had the most vague vets at the time I made my decision, and when you are in grief, you aren’t thinking right. You need the right person to help you through a very difficult time, and if that person isn’t present, a nightmare can occur. Sometimes vets misdiagnose them; sometimes they overlook issues because they are too busy, and with Covid it has become even harder to see a vet when you need one. And you need a good one! I have learned that you should always get a second and third opinion before letting someone you love go. But at the time, you feel you are making the best decision with the information you have, right?

Every single moment, I wish I could take back the decision I made for Sophy, but I can’t. I just pray. That she didn’t suffer. That she would forgive me for saying goodbye. That she wanted to go before it got too bad for her. My heart is broken, and nothing fills this void. This issue is dedicated to her. And also to all of the dogs YOU have lost along the way. This is the “Heart Dog” Issue. This is the issue where people are encouraged to pour their hearts out about their soul mates, to grieve their loss, to celebrate their dogs’ lives and so much more.

I hope you find something in here that touches your heart and soul the way Sophy did mine.

Here’s To You Sophy…I love and miss you more than you will ever know,

N. PUTZ

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The Final Farewell: 11 Beautiful Ways to Honor Your Deceased Pet

BY CHERESE COBB

Whether your companion animal suddenly passes away or you’ve had time to brace yourself, nothing can truly prepare you to lose the pet that you love. Every animal’s life is important, and each family chooses to celebrate it differently. Some pet owners throw euthanasia or celebration of life parties. Others put their pet’s photos in a scrapbook or light a memorial candle. Still, some turn their pet’s ashes into a vinyl record or diamond. From the commonplace to the unusual, here are 11 beautiful ways to honor your deceased pet.

1. Plan Your Pet’s Last Moments
Euthanasia can be painful and difficult for you, your family and your pet. But turning it into a spiritual sendoff can make it easier. “I’ve had families that hosted euthanasia parties, complete with family and friends dressed formally, drinking cocktails and eating gourmet food. I’ve done euthanasias outside on a beautiful day, under the pet’s favorite tree, or on a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan,” says Elisa Horsch, D.M.V., founder of Ozaukee Home Vet LLC. “I’ve had families that have sobbed uncontrollably the entire time, and I’ve had families that shared funny stories and laughed joyfully through their tears. I’ve read Bible passages and poems, played all sorts of music, lit candles, and sang songs with owners as we prepared for euthanasia.”

2. Take Last Day Photos
Hire a professional photographer to take photos of your pet at the end of their life. “Cats mostly want to be snuggled or loved. If they still have an appetite, giving them their favorite food is a nice thing to do. If dogs are still mobile, take them on their favorite walk, then spoil them with their favorite human food. A lot of pet owners go through the McDonald’s drive-through and get cheeseburgers and ice cream cones. Others make a full steak dinner,” Horsch says. “If they’re not mobile or don’t have an appetite, have their favorite people gather around and share favorite memories. Dogs are extremely intuitive and will understand the beautiful feelings that accompany recognition of a life well-lived.” Photos of your last happy moments together can be used to create a memorial video, scrapbook or quilt.

3. Start New Traditions
On your pet’s adoption anniversary, bake birthday cake treats and take them to a local animal shelter. On their death anniversary, light a memorial candle, or write a personalized message on a balloon or paper lantern. During the holiday season, write a pet-related memory on each ring of a paper garland. Then read one each day as you countdown to Christmas, Hanukkah or Kwanzaa.

4. Have An Item of Jewelry Made
Several companies can turn your pet’s ashes into a lab-created diamond by extracting carbon and heating it to 2,500°F. In most cases, you can choose the cut, color and size. The memorial diamond can be incorporated into rings, necklaces or earrings. Likewise, Precious Metal Prints will let you take an impression of your pet’s nose and will turn it into a handcrafted necklace.

5. Create a Memorial Garden
Planting flowers or trees with special meanings in your garden to signify your pet’s life is a heart-warming daily reminder of the happy times you shared. Whether your pet lounged in a sunny spot in the yard or cooled off under a particular bush, choose a significant spot to plant something new. Instead of a traditional headstone, you can also use an animal-shaped statue, garden marker or birdbath.

6. Rescue Another Animal
When it comes to adopting another pet, there’s no right or wrong answer. “I know people who’ve gotten a pet the next day or committed to adopting another pet. Still, others have decided that they were going to move out of their house because they couldn’t be there anymore,” says Mental Health Therapist Amanda Fellerer, M.S., LPC-IT. The new pet isn’t a replacement. Every companion animal is different, so you’re not disrespecting the honor of your deceased pet by getting another one. “Grief is love with no place to go, so you’re just refocusing your love. In my own personal experience, the new pet has often brought up stories of the one that we lost, and sometimes, that’s a very helpful part of the grieving process.”

7. Donate Your Time to an Animal Shelter
Volunteering at a local animal shelter and giving your love to homeless dogs and cats is a healthy way to mourn the loss of your deceased pet. If you volunteer at an animal rescue organization, you may be able to help with administrative or creative tasks like photography, web design, accounting or writing. You can also help with cleaning, socializing or walking the animals. Other options include donating pet supplies, giving an honorary gift, sponsoring an animal or starting a memorial fundraiser.

8. Get a Pet Memorial Tattoo
Tattoo artists can create memorial tattoos by mixing less than a tablespoon of your pet’s ashes into the ink. Whether you choose to get a life-size paw print or a symbol that represents what your pet meant to you, it’s a lovely way to keep their legacy alive.

9. Have Your Pet’s Ashes Pressed Into a Record
And Vinyly is a U.K.-based company that will press one tablespoon of your pet’s ashes into a 7-or 12-inch vinyl record. It can also paint the sleeve with your four-legged friend’s cremated remains. Side A and Side B hold 18-22 minutes of audio, so you can recite the personalized poem that you wrote for your pet or record your Spotify pet playlist.

10. Turn Your Pet’s Hair Into a Keepsake Clothing Item
Crafters can knit your companion animal’s hair into keepsake sweaters, gloves, and purses. If your dog or cat has a short, coarse coat or if you haven’t been able to collect several ounces of fur during grooming, they can blend it with alpaca or wool. Already know how to knit? Etsy sellers (like SimplyHandspunYarn and PetHair2KnitWear) will process your pet’s fur into yarn for you, so you make your own snuggly momentos.

11. Turn Your Pet’s Ashes Into Fireworks
Some companies, like Angels Flight, will turn your pet’s ashes into fireworks. Every memorial fireworks display is designed to your specific requirements whether you want to personalize each firework with a brief farewell message or choreograph it to your favorite songs. If you choose self-fire fireworks and apply for a fireworks permit, you can also have your own memorial fireworks display at home or your pet’s favorite location.

How to Handle Your Pet’s Remains

Deciding how to handle your pet’s remains is a difficult decision. It depends on your financial situation, your religious beliefs and how you want your beloved animal to be remembered. Here are some of your options:

Cremation
There are three types of cremation: individual, semi-private and group. In an individual cremation, your pet is placed in the oven alone. It makes sure the ashes you get back aren’t mixed with the remains of other pets. During a semi-private cremation, your pet is placed into its own cremation tray and incinerated with 4-6 other animals at the same time. Because there’s a shared space above the animals, the ashes of other pets might be mingled with yours. In group cremation, pets from different families are cremated together and then scattered on private cemetery grounds or taken to the local landfill.

Aquamation
Aquamation (sometimes referred to as water cremation) is a gentle and eco-friendly way to handle your pet’s remains. It uses 90 percent less energy than cremation and has 1/10th of the carbon footprint. With aquamation, your pet’s body is respectfully placed in a biodegradable bag and then lowered in a stainless steel cradle. Sodium, potassium hydroxide and 202°F water are used to speed up the natural way your pet’s body breaks down. It results in powdery, white-to-tan ash that contains 20 percent more remains than cremation.

Home Burial
With a backyard pet burial, you avoid the cost of having a service provider make arrangements, and you’re near your beloved pet so that you can visit and take care of the grave. If you decide an at-home burial is right for your family, wrap your pet in a pillowcase, t-shirt or small blanket. Avoid plastic containers because they slow down the natural decaying process. Dig a hole that’s at least 3 feet deep in an area that doesn’t flood or get soggy. Also, keep the gravesite far away from underground utility lines and natural water sources like ponds and streams. Pet burial isn’t allowed in some Wisconsin counties, so it’s best to check with local authorities and your homeowner’s association before laying your pet to rest.

Cemetery Burial
Pet cemeteries let you honor your pets without worrying about what will happen to their graves if you have to move or pass away. They can help transport your pet’s body from a veterinarian’s office or your home to their facilities. Full-service pet cemeteries allow you to choose a plot, casket, vault and grave marker. They also offer memorials, visitations and graveside burials for an additional fee. Unlike human cemeteries, most pet cemeteries aren’t deeded in perpetuity. That means your pet’s gravesite can be closed or sold and used for other purposes.

Body Donation
It’s possible to donate your pet’s body to an Educational Memorial Program. Modeled after human cadaver donation programs, it accepts pets that have died from natural causes or were euthanized for medical reasons. They’re used to study anatomy and in place of live animals during non-recovery surgeries. In non-recovery surgeries, animals are euthanized before recovering from anesthesia. Currently, four veterinary schools have Educational Memorial Programs: Oregon State University, Tufts University, Western University and the University of Pennsylvania.

5 Ways To Heal After the Loss of a Pet

“People treat their pets differently, and that needs to be respected,” Fellerer says. “They’re so ingrained in our everyday routines that their loss can make a much bigger impact than anyone realizes.” How do you cope with the loss of a pet? These five expert tips will help you work through your grief.

1. Take Time to Grieve
When we lose our pets, grief can strike us all at once. Or it may surface weeks, months or even years after our pets’ deaths. Fellerer shared an analogy that explains how grief unfolds over time and why we still experience aftershocks when we hit milestones. Think of your life as a box. Your grief is a ball inside of it. At the bottom of the box, there’s a pain button. In the beginning, the grief ball slams into the pain button every time you move the box. Over time, it shrinks and slams into the pain button less often, giving you more time to heal between hits. For most people, the grief ball never disappears. Every now and then, it pounds the pain button, and the loss can be as overwhelming as it was in the beginning.

2. Express Your Emotions
Shock, anger, guilt, bargaining, denial and depression are like bubbles in a glass of champagne or soda. If you let them float to the surface, they’ll eventually pop and evaporate into thin air. If you bottle up your grief, you’ll explode if you’re shaken, and that, in turn, will impact you physically, emotionally, socially and spiritually. But you’ll also flatten more positive emotions like love, joy and peace.

3. Accept Feelings of Guilt
It’s normal to feel guilty about your pet’s death, but it’s also important to keep in mind that death is a natural part of life. “Our pets can communicate with us in a sense, but we can never really know exactly how they’re feeling,” Fellerer says. You may ask yourself: “Did I euthanize my pet too late or too soon?” If you’re having nagging thoughts like these, Horsch suggests telling yourself, “I loved my pet, and I did the best I could for him. His life was meaningful, and he’ll be remembered.”

4. Realize You Did the Best for Your Pet
“Euthanasia means “good death”. Pets that are allowed to pass at home do so in their most comfortable environment surrounded by their family,” Horsch says. “It’s also easier on pet owners to be at home for euthanasia—it’s private and quiet. Because pets are intuitive, if the people are more comfortable, so are the animals.” Regardless of whether your pet is put to sleep or naturally dies at home, remind yourself that you did the best that you could for your four-legged friend with the information you had at the time.

5. Get the Right Kind of Support
There’s no shame in pet grief. “In my experience, people want to talk about their pets. They want to remember the good times and need you to listen and truly care. They want to be reminded that they gave their pet a beautiful life,” Horsch says. Need someone to lean on? Consider free pet loss support groups in the area and national pet loss hotlines like Cornell University’s Pet Loss Support Hotline (607-253-3932) or Tufts University’s Pet Loss Support Hotline (508-839-7966).

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Oatsie, My Love…

BY KRISTIN CATALANO, FREELANCER

Ten months have passed since my soulmate has left me. I don’t believe in anything anymore. I don’t trust anyone anymore. I feel as alone as I did the day of his diagnosis. Even more so now that he is gone.

Otis was my first dog. I never even planned on getting a dog. He came into my life because a privacy fence that I put up in my yard offended my neighbors. I remedied the situation by getting a 12-week-old puppy. It sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. The first week was filled with sleep deprivation and Google searches on “puppy training.” By the second week, Otis and I were joined at the heart.

The Bond
Wherever I went, Otis went. And if Otis wasn’t invited, I would show up very briefly or not at all. As one of my friends put it, “Otis got to experience more in his life than most children.” He went on three road trips where he saw half of the country with his head out the window, ate cheeseburgers, stayed in fancy hotels, got to swim in the Atlantic Ocean and ran free on sandy beaches. I took him to friends’ houses, restaurant patios, coffee shops, bars and festivals. His wagging tail would swirl around in a circle while he would do a two-step walk-dance followed by a gymnastics routine each time he encountered a person in his path. He just couldn’t believe that everywhere he went, people were always throwing a party—just for him!

It’s hard to say if Otis liked people or dogs more. He would lie down and wait to say hello to doggy strangers on walks and would play “chase me, chase me, catch me if you can, my name is Otis” when his friends came over. When I would dog sit or foster, Otis was so patient and kind always offering up his beds and toys and even his bones to our guests. And when we were alone together, we did the simple things—multiple walks, “treat game,” sniffing and swimming at our lake cottage in the summer and sniffing and exploring in the snow at the Seminary Woods in the winter.

My dad always told me that Otis never took his eyes off of me. Ever since he was a puppy, he would follow me with his eyes. When I was on the computer, I would get startled when I’d turn and see him just staring at me. He would just appear, staring at me, like a ghost. When I’d leave the house, he would watch me out of the window like an abandoned child. When I left him at a friend’s house, he would watch me drive away with a look of horror. Otis’s eyes always looked so familiar to me like I knew him from somewhere…but I could never figure out how. I thought maybe his eyes looked like a famous person like Barack Obama or George Clooney, but they weren’t. They were just his. And I knew them. I remember one of my cousins telling me that Otis would live a very long time because of the deep bond we shared. I believed her. But it was a lie.

The Diagnosis
Ten years. That’s all I got. Ten years. What did I do wrong? Was he absorbing the stress from my unhealthy relationships? Did he die to get me unstuck—to get me to move on with my life? I don’t understand. Why do most people get 14 years or even longer? He didn’t have hip problems, eyesight issues or bad hearing. He wasn’t overweight. He was spry and limber. He was a 5-year-old dog in a 10-year-old dog’s body. I gave him vitamins. I avoided unhealthy treats. I bought him the best food. I avoided pesticides. I sparingly gave him flea and tick medicines. I brushed his teeth. He got plenty of exercise. I let him be himself. I never forced him to do anything he didn’t want to do (besides a bath and the vet). If I treated people the way that I treated Otis, with zero judgment and total acceptance of who they were, everyone in the world would want to be my best friend. I remember having a thought once, as we ventured out of the house together, that I would never feel guilty about how I cared for Otis. Now, all I feel is guilt.

In March, Otis started using his front legs to get up more…but my friend said her dog was the same age and was also having joint issues. In April, Otis threw-up once, was acting scared and his gums were pale. But then a few hours later, he was totally fine and eating and playing. In May, Otis had a limp for a half a day. When the vet checked him out she said his joints looked great. And what about the time even way before that in October when his legs were shaky and he laid down after playing chase at the dog park? But the vet said it was probably just a pinched nerve that resolved itself. “Humans get those too,” she told me.

On July 10, I made a same day appointment for Otis to go to the vet because he didn’t get up for breakfast. That was extremely abnormal for him. For two weeks, he was intermittently acting lethargic, was breathing heavy at times and was sometimes being finicky about his food. But I had just changed his food, there was a heat wave in Milwaukee and he drank the lake water when I took him swimming. Everyone I told chalked it up to the 100-degree weather or swimming in the lake because their dogs were also panting from the heat or got sick after swimming.

That morning, before I took Otis to the vet, I took him for a little walk. We got three houses down when a neighbor dog darted out onto the sidewalk and attacked him. This was the second time this same dog attacked Otis. This time the injury was more than just a puncture wound. It was a deep bite wound that needed stitches. These were strict COVID times, and I couldn’t go inside the vet office with Otis. I tried explaining over the phone to the vet what was going on with him for the past couple weeks, but the vet was more concerned about the dog bite and just gave him an antibiotic. He said the antibiotic “should clear up anything else that was going on with him.” I wasn’t satisfied with that answer because Otis was also running a 104-degree fever, so I requested a blood panel and a fecal exam. The fecal test was clear of parasites, but the vet didn’t take the time to evaluate the blood panel, and he didn’t take the time to feel on Otis’s abdomen. All he told me was that Otis was anemic and “let’s just wait and see if the antibiotic clears everything up.” Otis was so sick over that weekend. I stayed up with him putting a cold washcloth on his paws, trying to bring his fever down.

So much needless suffering.

On Monday morning, when I was able to get a copy of the blood test, I sent it to my friend who is a vet. She said that the results pointed to internal bleeding and that I should bring him to see her right away. She felt something on palpation, so she did an ultrasound. She found a grapefruit-sized mass attached to Otis’s spleen. The dog attack ruptured the tumor, and he was bleeding internally. The following morning, Otis had the mass removed. I prayed and prayed and prayed that it would be benign. But God didn’t listen. Does the power of prayer really work? If I would have blasted Otis’s disease on social media and asked everyone to pray for him, would he still be alive? I’ve seen people do that. Does it really work? Is that what I did wrong?

The Silent Killer
Hemangiosarcoma is a cancer of the blood vessels, and because the symptoms are never obvious, it is also called “the silent killer.” I call it the silent killer because it crept into my heart and stole the love of my life. The survival rate for hemangiosarcoma with surgery alone is 1-3 months. With chemotherapy it is 5-7 months. Only 10 percent of dogs will survive for one year. I wanted to try oral chemotherapy, but I had to wait three weeks for an appointment with an oncologist, and within that time frame of frantic internet searches, I got sucked into hemangiosarcoma support groups on Facebook. At the time, I felt blessed to find these groups, since veterinarians view hemangiosarcoma as a death sentence. I didn’t have anyone supportive in my personal life to help me navigate.

I was soon brainwashed into believing that chemo doesn’t work…but herbs and supplements and an immunotherapy vaccine might. When I hear my thoughts, it sounds like I am pushing blame, but I was so overwhelmed with vulnerability and desperation. I lost 20 lbs. within a few weeks, and my body would physically shake when sitting perfectly still. My mind was like a pendulum. I would go from staring at the computer searching for a cure for Otis’s cancer to staring at Otis to make sure he was still breathing. Back and forth. I was obsessed. I was a zombie. I was unable to figure out anything on my own. All I wanted was for someone to say, “Kristin. Let me help you. Let’s look at all of this medical information together, read everything we can and come up with a plan.” And that’s what a bunch of strangers on irresponsible Facebook pages did. I listened to bad advice because nobody else was speaking.

Two weeks before Otis passed away, he had a clear ultrasound. No sign of cancer anywhere. The day before he passed away, an ultrasound showed that his liver was covered in tumors. He was bleeding to death internally. I tried so hard to save him. I was on the phone with the Facebook people who were telling me to try other remedies. It’s asinine looking back. He couldn’t breathe. He had no oxygen. I couldn’t let him suffer like that. I begged my vet to come over in the middle of the night to help him pass. He died in my arms. I was not able to hold it together. He was so scared, and I couldn’t be strong for him. Three months and one day after getting his spleen removed, Otis was gone. It was like we both died on October 15, 2020.

The Present
I am a shell of a person now. My soul has left with his. And yet, I am told to move on. I am told to move forward and to just get over it. I am trying and failing miserably. I cried for six months non-stop. I discovered that biting down on the insides of my cheeks until I tasted blood helped to hold back the tears when I was in public. I hit “pause” on certain friendships and relationships. I came to realize that the type of friends that I wanted and needed were those who knew how to “listen” rather than those who preferred to tell me what to do, tell me what to feel, flood my inbox with pictures of their living dogs, or tell me that they understood what I was going through. But how could they? What nobody seemed to understand was that I didn’t have children. I didn’t have a husband. All I had was Otis. When I say that he was my everything, I truly mean that. He was my everything. A lot of people talk about how their dog was their heart dog or soul mate, but it’s not the same. It’s not even close to what I had with Otis.

I tried coping creatively. I wrote a screenplay, I started a novel, I even created a meditation so that I could talk with Otis. And it did help, but my environment was tormenting me. I couldn’t be in my house surrounded by Otis anymore when he wasn’t there. Everything was a reminder. I couldn’t live a few houses away from the dog that attacked Otis and see him happily walking past my window with his owner. It gave me PTSD.

I had to remove myself from what was once “ours.” In a matter of two weeks, I made a decision to leave. I moved across the country, I got a new job, I rented out my house, and I broke up with my boyfriend. I even got a puppy to see if what everyone said is true. “Just get another dog and that will ease the pain.” But, if anything, it made it worse because I am unable to love him the same.

Someone told me once that we have chapters in our life, to keep on moving through, and I’ll find love again. But I am trying and it’s not working. The only thing that will fix this hole is having Otis back. And with that, I wait. I wait to see those familiar eyes. If reincarnation is real, then I will see him again.

“Goodnight Oatsie. Mama loves you the most.” Is what I said to Otis every night before bed. I would press my forehead against his and say, “Sleep good. Have lots of dreams about squirrels and other fun things, OK? I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.” I’d end our ritual by giving him a bunch of kisses and then asking him for a kiss in return. I wrote that identical message on his urn. I still say the same thing to him every night before bed. Only now, I can’t feel his kisses.

I always thought the phrase “life is short” was odd. It’s not short. It’s long. And it’s excruciatingly long when you have to live it without your best friend.

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