Archive for the ‘Dear Fozzy’ Category
Still Saying Goodbye, two years later
Dear Fozzy,
I knew today would be sad. It’s been two years since we said goodbye. I still think of you more often than I want to admit. You were the original bear and every time I use “bear†to call another dog I think of how it all started with you. I still have your photos at work and on my phone; around the house and in my heart. You were the best dog.
Still I find myself telling people what a wonderful dog you were and to us it was true; you were the best. You were not perfect though. I remember your dog bite incident. How you had to spend two weeks in rabies quarantine even though you’d had your shots and we had all the records. I remember rushing home every day to visit you and how desperately you looked at me. I tried not to cry seeing you in that horrible cage. You never cried. You were always so happy to see me. I remember Brian and me fighting all the time because he said you could never be around people again and you loved people so much. He said they would kill you if it happened again and I couldn’t bear the thought of that so soon after MacKenzie died. But you loved people so much and I thought you would be so unhappy. I cried that I couldn’t fix you. In the end you never cared and I never knew how much pain you were really in.
I remember all the vet visits. It pains me still to think of everything you went through but I wasn’t ready to let you go and I don’t think you were ready to let me go. The brown recluse bite you handled like a champ, and enjoyed the attention. The melanoma that should have killed you. Instead, you ate your bandage repeatedly and gave the vet and us great stories to tell about the extent we had to go to for you to not eat your bandage! Finally though, it was the osteosarcoma that took you. Who would have thought you could survive one cancer just to get another one. The strange part is I was always checking your lymph nodes, waiting for the return and I still didn’t catch it early enough. From what they say, there was no early enough.
So two years ago today we said goodbye. We fed you filet mignon for your last supper. You ate it so fast. Like there was no grapefruit sized tumor on your spleen. Nothing could stop you from eating. You never refused food. After dinner, we sat at the end of the driveway together and I took our photo in the setting sun. I’m sure you licked my cheek; you always did.
She’s no Fozzy Dog
Dear Fozzy,
Yesterday we brought home a new puppy. Bennett has been so depressed since you passed. I have been too but at least I understand. I’m so thankful for the years you gave me but it was time to try and move on. For a while I tried to convince Brian to let me get a Doberman. It was my attempt to replace you when, really, there’s not replacing you. I wasn’t really looking but I found a great little girl. She’s about half your size and we’re naming her Siena.
She’s no Fozzy dog. I’ve told her that many times but really I need to tell myself. I think of you all the time. Even as we were bringing her home we reminisced about your first days; when you pooped in the back of the XTerra on the way back from the vet, when piddled every time the lights went out for bedtime, or when it took you a month to lean “sitâ€. I remember how awful you were in your puppy training class. You’d wrestle with your leash, and try to get my attention. Then, after interrupting the entire class, you’d just look up at me with those happy eyes. You were always the happiest puppy ever.
Ohh, what a good dog you became. You learned to do everything we asked of you. I love how you pointed out dinner every night, how excited you were for puppy-cookies, and how much you loved taking walks. But mostly you snuggled. You were my shadow and part of me died with you.
I know Siena won’t be you, but I hope I find she’s very special in her own way. I’m a little scared that I will never love a puppy like I loved you. I feel guilty when I hope I’m wrong.
Love you baby-boy,
Mom
Saying Goodbye
 Dear Fozzy,
You gave me so many happy times and, yet, with each one was a sadness that someday I would have to let you go. As the years went by, I knew we were coming closer and closer to that day. When we came home from the vet that Tuesday afternoon I was completely empty. I knew that you were in pain and letting you go was the right decision but I couldn’t face my life without you. I never knew what a void you filled.
That night I cried endlessly. I hated waking up and not having your face in mine; reminding me it was time for puppy breakfast. My life moved forward, even when I was not with it. I went to work and I rode my bike but my heart was not in it. My heart was with you. Those first days I had a crisis at work and escaped into my work like a drug. I was ashamed at how much I tried not to think about you but remembering brought so much pain and tears.
After a few days, the pain subsided and felt myself healing. Healing is a curious thing. It feels much like forgetting and I began to worry that I was forgetting you and all the years of joy you brought me. I found myself flipping through photos of you and trying to remember all the memorable stories, all the things that were uniquely Fozzy, and even how your head would stretch up when I scratched under your chin in that way you loved.
I wonder what you thought those last days. I wonder if you really wanted relief in the way we project on to you. I wonder if you knew how painful letting you go was for us and I wonder if it made you feel sad. I wonder if you were scared.
I hated that I couldn’t tell you how amazing you were and how much you meant to us. You were not an easy dog at times but we always made it work. All I could do was pet you and feed you and hope.
Love,
Mom