Farewell to Milo, our bear

This morning I began my first day without Milo. It will take a long time to get used to the feeling. Although we've gone through the loss of Nick and of Achilles, Milo's departure has left a much deeper, much more painful void.

We said farewell to Milo yesterday. At 1:39 p.m. He took his last breath in his home, surrounded by comfort, compassion, and love. (And his two hooligan sisters, Laverne & Shirley.) I hope he knew it and that it brought some measure of peace and comfort to him. He was a part of many lives, all dear friends who came to see our boy and to give him kisses and love.

Shirley keeping vigil...

...when she wasn't preoccupied with her bully stick.

My little Laverne tried making her mama smile...

...and when it didn't work, she nuzzled & comforted.

With Milo.

In March we found out Milo's kidneys were failing. Renal failure in dogs is painful and sucks the life out of them. Thanks to a very good friend of ours who is a physician, we were able to get I.V. bags of kidney supportive fluids for him at pennies per daily treatment as opposed to $13 per day. So, we began daily fluid treatment and his kidney values improved dramatically. So did his quality of life, thank God.

In addition to his chronic renal failure, Milo also began to suffer from canine "dementia." That was probably the most difficult for us. His sleep/wake cycle was off and he suffered from disorientation, must the same way humans with dementia and senility do. He spents nights 'woofing' and howling, barking at walls and getting lost in the backyard. Ed and I were "sleepless in San Diego" for the past couple of months, but believe it or not, we eventually got used to it.

Milo was plugging along well for a geriatric Golden Retriever with renal disease. Until this past weekend. We noticed something rapidly changing in his demeanor and his appetite. He was ravenous one day and ate well, then refused food for a couple of days. He had trouble walking just to the end of the block and back. Tuesday night I kind of saw that he had "checked out" in his eyes. We spent the night with him on the couch and he didn't sleep much. Every time I opened my eyes I found him staring up at me with his big, beautiful brown eyes.

Yesterday morning he wouldn't wake or rise. We carried him outside to pee and he fell right over. It was awful. We both knew. But, to make sure he wasn't going through an infection or anything, we went to the vet right away. X-rays showed he had thrown an blood clot, possibly from a mass somewhere inside of him, and he had fluid in his lungs restricting his breathing. He would die a painful death within a couple of days if we didn't act for him in mercy.

Our home vet reminded us that millions of humans and animals suffer in agony and pain, waiting for the sweet final relief of death. As conflicted as I will always be about having to "put down" one of God's creatures, it is a blessing to know that we have the choice of mercy for our beloved pets. We can give them that sweet relief before they know suffering and the relentless agony of waiting...

Our Milo was a Navy fan for his papa.
And a secret Chicago Bears fan for his mama, hence the nickname Milo Da Bear.
In some circles he was known as the International Slipper Thief.
Most importantly, he was our "schweetie bear", our sun loving golden, our boy. A part of our humble family, now forever less one.
It is hard to swallow this was only 1 month ago at the vet's.
We brought our sweet, gentle bear back home and called the home euthanasia vet. I cannot the describe the level of devastation we feel. He left us as sweet and fuzzy and handsome...

...as the day he forever joined our life.

I am at work today. My heart is still at home. August 9th would have been Milo's 4 year anniversary with us. I had grand plans to have a pooch party celebrating the dog who'd hung with us the longest.

He had such a gentle, firm presence, and I am crushed with grief.

I sometimes asked him, a I would kiss his fuzzy head, "Are you my bear, or are you my bear?!" And Ed would laugh, saying I didn't leave Milo much choice for an answer. He was indeed my beloved bear. I miss my boy.

I cannot believe he is gone.

Ed and I believe that Milo became an "old man" the day Achilles died. He missed Achilles terribly. I'll never forget that. I have always loved this old picture of Achilles and Milo walking home from the dog park, shuffling along together, two buddies exploring the universe, looking forward to dinner and a nap. I believe they are together again, and perhaps they made room for Nick in the pack, and perhaps are also saving room for those of us who have yet to join them.

Milo Bear, sweet golden boy of mine, I hope you and Achilles are together again.