He was 13 years old, or at least that was our guess. We rescued our feisty French bulldog, Bugz, 11 years ago and he instantly became a family member. He was there for our milestones of marriage, career change, new home and children. He had some challenging quirks to him caused from an abusive past, but that made us just love him even more. We accepted him for who he was and would give him the best home possible.
As time went on and his hair turned gray, his back legs became weak and there were fewer tug-a-war games, I knew we would face the inevitable. I tried to prepare the family, but knew that when the actual day came the pain was going to be awful to work through and witness. My kids had already experienced a tremendous amount of deaths in a short period of time, so I knew that this loss would rip open those old wounds and possibly instill fear and uncertainty about their own life.
One week before school was to begin, Bugz’s health rapidly declined. I brought him to the vet that morning to see if there was any hope, but the doctor validated what I already knew in my heart.
It was time.
Through a flood of tears, I made arrangements to come back that afternoon with my husband to put Bugz to sleep. I knew we only had a few hours at home with him and my mind went into overdrive on how to make this time memorable and how I was going to tell my kids.
So here is what I did.
It’s easy to sugar coat difficult conversations or avoid them all together, but I know kids need to hear the truth from the people they trust the most, their parents.
My husband and I sat the kids down and told them that the vet confirmed that Bugz’ health wasn’t going to get any better. He was suffering and crippled by the pain. We explained our plans of bringing them to their grandparent’s house while we took Bugz back to the vet. I wanted to be clear about what the vet would do to avoid the boy’s imagining more frightening scenarios or thinking that the vet was a bad person. We explained that the doctor would give Bugz medicine that would make him go to sleep, very similar to medicine given before surgery. Once he was asleep, the doctor would give him an additional dose that would stop his heart from beating and he would die.
Yes, I used that word.
My husband and I were right there to hold them as they processed what I said. My 7 year-old screamed and cried, while my 4 year-old calmly asked, “Will he go to heaven with Grandma and Grandpa?”
We knew that they would both react differently and their grief would continue to come out over the next several months. The most important things that we did was validate their emotions, told the truth, answered questions and explained that they did nothing to have caused it. We then gave them the choice to participate in memory making activities.
I wanted the boys to always have something tangible of Bugz, so we took lots of candid photos and we did some paw prints on a canvas. They chose the paint colors and how many paw prints they wanted on their canvas. My four-year old even painted his own hand that is displayed next to Bugz’s paw print. The boys also chose Bugz’s favorite tug-a-war rope to be cremated with. During all of this there were some tears shed and memories shared about our time together.
Dog’s Palliative Care
I grilled Bugz a big, juicy cheeseburger and gave him enough pain medication and sedatives to calm his nerves. He laid down in his favorite outdoor spot, soaking up the sunrays for the last time. I sat there with him,stroking his back and holding back tears.
Never Left His Side
I carried Bugz into the exam room and my husband and I sat on the floor with him. We reassured him he was safe, and then sobbed into his fur coat and said our final goodbyes. My heart was broken as we drove away. I rubbed his empty leash with my hands, but I knew he was no longer suffering.
That first night without Bugz was awful. My 7 year-old lied awake until midnight as he mourned his dog’s loss. My four-year old had a challenging time controlling his temper. We knew that out of all the recent deaths we had experienced, that Bugz’s would cut a bit deeper.
It has now been a month and the kids continue to express their emotions verbally, through creative arts and play. We have had to adjust to a home without a dog and still face painful triggers of his loss. Through it all, we have grown closer together on our journey of grief.