Rosie Passed Away
On 12/23 just after 9 AM, we said goodbye to our sweet Rosie.
Anyone who even glances at this blog, let alone know us in real life, would know how she was not a dog. She was a person. She was our daughter. Our whole entire world.
Now I know what people mean when they say words can’t express the type of pain grief brings. It’s devastating. Earth shattering. Logically, with all my words, we have so much to be thankful for, to be glad about. She knew how much we love her, we had the chance to spend almost all of 2024 as the year of Rosie, cherishing every moment with her and taking nothing for granted. She was tired, and now is no longer suffering, so this was the best choice for her. We knew this day was coming, and we were lucky to get the time we had. We can keep telling ourselves all this, but this pain overtakes all thoughts and it’s purely visceral. At times all I can do to get it all out is to wail at the top of my lungs into a pillow. All my insides feel like they’re being crushed and twisted. My heart physically hurts.
We miss her so much. We love her so much. If I just let my eyes glaze over, I can still see her in all her places. I can still feel the tug of her leash on my wrist, hear the little jingle of her tag on her harness, feel her enthusiastic licks on my hand. She was my whole world. I can’t imagine living in this world without being able to hug her and put my head against hers ever again. I don’t know if I ever believed in an afterlife, but being able to see Rosie again someday is really all I’m hanging onto at times to keep carrying on.
In the end, it wasn’t the hemangiosarcoma that took her. Or her new mast cell tumor. But her stomach. Her poor stomach stopped working. The short story of the last few weeks is: she kept throwing up and aspirating, needing to be hospitalized, and coming home with antibiotics. The last time, we were ready to say goodbye to her then, but we didn’t want to do it in the ER. I had some notion of a last day where we would get to give her a proper send off and do it at home. We wanted to stabilize her enough to take her home. But she ended up improving in the ER. We visited her, and she was so scared and crying and just wanted to go home. We decided to give it one more go with tons of stomach protecting/mobility medication on a rigid schedule, and help her try and get through a course of antibiotics and maybe her stomach could heal
The last three weeks, she did good on her strict regiment. It included medicine at 6am, 8am. 8:30 a.m., 1pm, 5pm, 6pm, 6:30 pm, 8:30 pm, and 10:30 pm. At the back of our minds, we knew what another throw up and aspiration meant, but were hopeful especially after finishing her antibiotics. This weekend, she was perfectly fine. We had nice family nap and snuggle time, and after Noah went to work, we had nice couch nap with lots of belly rubs. I even got her a pup cup after many weeks of not going. But it didn’t work. We did everything we could, but she still threw up and aspirated again Monday morning, and we knew that was it.
Her stomach just didn’t work anymore. These last 3 weeks she really couldn’t eat anything solid. We switched to even softer canned food, fed her very sparingly small pieces of treats. She did get her daily milkbone from the front desk, but only half. She couldn’t go to the froyo shop to get her favorite pup cup. It was no way to live for a little girl who loved food as much as we did.
We had to hand feed her small meatballs of her food because even the slow feeders were too much.
We didn’t try and take her home again. It wasn’t fair for her to do another night at the hospital. We tried to bring her some special treats we had saved for this day, but the poor girl didn’t have any appetite. It’s okay. We just held her and told her how much we loved her. I think she knew what was happening, and she was tired too. She knows all our feelings and everything we’re thinking all the time. And I know she know much we loved her with our whole hearts.
We only had seven short years with our girl. Sometimes, I get angry at how it’s really not fair. Why couldn’t we have gotten 10, 15 years with our sweet baby? But at least we did everything with her. We were the people who shamelessly asked if we could bring Rosie to people’s houses for gatherings, if friends minded eating on the patio in less-than-idea weather, if they’d be willing to do take out at our place instead, or simply didn’t go places without her. We included her in almost every single thing.
Since the COVID shutdowns in March 2020, I haven’t left her thanks to my remote job. We had almost five years of daily routines. She really was my best friend. And thanks to our obsession with Rosie, so many people got to know and love her too. If you knew her, I hope you remember her with us for as long as you can. She really was the sweetest girl who ever lived. The most food-loving girl, the girl who every vet described as “the most perfect patient” (and unfortunately she’s seen a lot of vets this year), the most patient grandma with little puppies, but a fierce protector of her mommy and daddy with strangers on the street, people carrying ladders, and snowmen in the field.
She’ll still be this blog’s mascot, forever. Maybe I’ll even bake more! God knows I need something to keep busy now that my nights aren’t spent sitting next to and petting Roro.
We love you so much sweet girl. Thanks for making me a mommy, and all your unconditional love for 7+ years. We will miss you forever. Love you.
The first picture I ever took of her (the second ever overall, because Noah took the first one in the car).