This will be something that’s hard for me to write. This is not the kind of thing I’m really comfortable talking or writing about. However, I think it’s probably cathartic and there’s always the slightest chance talking about what you’ve been experiencing might help someone else.
So, where to begin? In August 2022, I had to take my Labrador, Cooper, to the emergency vet. There was some unusual behavior – he was trying to urinate and then shifting into try to defecate and not being productive with either. We decided to take him in first thing the next morning. Right before walking into the emergency vet, there was blood in his urine…and I knew we were in the right place. Our immediate issue was a urinary tract infection, but I could tell the doctor was concerned when she was discussing she could tell he had an enlarged prostate. They got him on antibiotics and pain relief straight away, and he remained overnight so that he could see a specialist for more testing. He had x-rays and fine needle aspiration biopsies in suspicious areas. We were able to go pick him up the next morning and he was already living a better life (and sporting a bald tummy). Over the course of the next few weeks, we ultimately learned that Cooper had prostate cancer. We circled back around getting him into our regular veterinarian and discussed our options. For the short term he seemed to bounce back really to his normal state with some abatement of the UTI, and we started him on carprofen (an NSAID) which has shown to be beneficial in treatment of prostate cancer in canines. I believe the concept is that the anti-inflammatory drugs help to prevent tumor growth. We researched chemotherapy and radiation treatments, and we did schedule a visit with a specialist that walked us through our potential treatment plans and life expectancies of each. It was a very tough decision, but with Cooper already 10 years old…we ultimately could not justify changing his life so drastically by taking on these treatments. Especially, with no certainty he would gain more time with quality life. We decided the best thing for him was to let him keep doing all the things that he loved and maintain good quality of life for as long as we good. I’m happy to say we had almost another year from that first trip to the ER. We had walks, we had agility, we had snuggles, we had swims… We had cycles where the persistent UTI (that sometimes goes hand in hand with the prostate cancer) would get worse, and we would treat with some antibiotics and get a bounce back. Each time though, it was like he bounced back a little less and the cycles where we were having poor days and difficulty were getting closer together. Eventually, the day came where we were no longer able to get him relief and we knew it was time…we could not watch him suffer.
This period of nearly ten months from August 2022 to May 2023 – feels a bit like a black hole. I’m not sure I could tell you all the other things that happened during that time. We really tried to stay hyper focused on keeping Cooper’s quality of life high. There are some stand out things (stresses? on top of stress?) that I do remember from this time: I had to move my business to a new location (after being in the same location for 11 years). I became a moderator in a fairly large whiskey club. In my new business location, there was a water leak in my studio – I came in to water in my room one November morning (which also happened to be when my husband was out of the country). That same week he was out of the country – my truck died and needed a new battery (a pretty easy fix), some critter got into one of the upstairs AC unit fans (it stopped working…and smelled), and also that week my friend was in the ER/hospitalized. We didn’t travel for Thanksgiving or Christmas because we didn’t want to be far from our known veterinarians (if needed).
I actually have a hard time remembering what happened when…or even what year. Then, after he was gone- the grief hit. In one way, it was a relief to not have so much focus on if Cooper was eating or experiencing discomfort. I did not expect his absence to affect me the way that it did. Cooper was not just my around the house dog…we did things together. We went to agility classes weekly for 10 years. Overnight, I felt like my routine was totally changed. I struggled, and I cried all the time. I realized I was exhausted physically and mentally…I had not been sleeping well. It was probably hard for me to know then, but I think I realize now – I was experiencing a form of depression. It was a little easier to “keep up routine” in those last 10 months with Cooper. After he was gone, I didn’t want to do much. Motivation was at an all time low…I quit going to the gym…I gained weight. I beat myself up for both. I struggled to be in groups outside the house. I withdrew a bit. It was a period of numbness.
Finally, sometime around the end of September I decided I had to come up with some way to make a new routine. I decided to take Hendrix for a walk every morning. At that point my most consistent habit was having coffee. I decided I would make my coffee, and take her on a walk….it didn’t matter how far. We did that every day, and it was one of the best things for my mental health. The walks gradually got longer, and my mental load got a bit lighter. I began to think again about things that brought me joy. I started cooking a little more, and I finally travelled a bit. I found out my dad would start a course of radiation for his prostate cancer, and I decided I would come to visit him every month before his treatments started.
I was only starting to climb out of the hole, and able to actually reflect on the numbness, depression and keeping up that had swallowed up days/months… It’s was hard to start that reflection and face/admit that I was struggling. I realized I had probably internalized too much. I had felt embarrassed about how deeply the loss was affecting me. I didn’t feel comfortable talking to many about it (outside of Ronald). I didn’t want to appear to others as someone who had outsized grief for the loss of “just a pet”. I felt I should not be struggling as much as I was…that there were people with bigger problems/struggles than mine. I felt I would look silly to people if I talked to much about it. As I was recounting these things, I tried to give them space, give myself grace and process them. I was starting to see this as a process, and that I needed to care for myself and be kind. Negative emotions are normal – especially when life deals you loss and stress.
At the beginning of 2024, things were starting to resemble normal again. Ronald and I started working out together 2 times a week. I found some new interests – crocheting amigurumi and baking. We planned a trip returning to Europe for the first time since 2019. In May, I rucked 100 miles in memory of Cooper. The one year mark of his passing coincided with our trip to Europe, and we took some time out to remember him and what should’ve been his 12 birthday.
It’s probably taken this much time since we lost Cooper to be able to write any of this. Fortunately, I don’t feel buried and consumed with deep unhappiness like I did there for a bit. Working through grief is a process and requires taking care of yourself and protecting your mental health. Even now, I still feel a bit of anxiousness writing any of this – like I know there are people who’ve lost children, family, friends, etc. I think, “Other people have been through so much more!” I just have to remember all feelings are valid, and processing them is important.
I didn’t feel much like adding photos to this post, but then I remembered this video I made the day we said goodbye – mostly for Ronald and I. Previously, I only shared it with our veterinarian as a thank you for helping us so much in giving Cooper as many of the best possible days for as long as we could. He really did have a wonderful and lengthy farewell tour. ð€ð€ð€ð€ð€ð€ð€ð€ð€ð€ð€
