You Make Me Happy When Skies Are Grey

TW: This post deals with pet illness, death, and grief. If that’s not for you right now, please feel free to skip this one.

I don’t really like the phrase “heart dog” for the same reason I don’t really like “soul mate.” It feels limiting to me to imply that we are only capable of one great love.

But you guys, I love Bertie so much. I’ve had many pets in my life but none like him. None of them that felt like they carried a piece of my soul with them.

In summer of 2020, (ya’ll remember 2020?) we got into the buttons. In fall of 2020, Bertie was diagnosed with a heart murmur. It was concerning because he was only 9 and it had come on quite swiftly. I made an appointment with a cardiologist who said it wasn’t a problem yet, but that we should check in every 6 months to see if it developed into anything worse. Katelyn helped me enormously through all of this, I could not have afforded those very expensive vet visits without her help.

So while we were experimenting with the buttons, and posting videos and generally exploring this new frontier, we also had this sword of Damocles over us. I knew as soon as the vet mentioned a heart murmur that this would be what killed my dog. For about a year he was fine. Then one day, Bertie seemed to be having a hard time, and when we went in to the cardio the next day they told us he was in congestive heart failure. They gave us the option of having him hospitalized but it was still the height of the Pandemic and all the vets were slammed. The cardiologist operated out of an emergency vet but they didn’t have room and we would have had to call around. We decided that that would only stress Bertie out so we opted for them to give him a dose of IV lasix and see how he fared. He perked up immediately (lasix is amazing guys) and we had a follow up with our regular vet and he looked good. Then two weeks later he crashed. We went to the ER and he was in heart failure again. That happened 3 times before we finally got his medication dialed in at the right dosage. After the last ER trip I vowed that the next one would be the last. It was too awful. But in the in between periods Bertie was so perky and happy and playful and making button progress. His quality of life was high when he wasn’t in active heart failure.

Once the meds were dialed in, things were stable. 2022 and 2023 were good years with no major health emergencies. We still checked in with the cardiologist every 6 months and it was still not cheap. The next gremlin became his kidney levels. Heart meds are really rough on the kidneys. Torsemide (a more powerful diuretic we switched to when the lasix pills weren’t cutting it) made Bertie have to pee constantly and we had to closely monitor his water intake to make sure he was drinking enough. It was really hard, y’all. I’d have to take Bertie out multiple times a night sometimes. He couldn’t go more than about 2 1/2 hours at a stretch. He would have accidents where it was clear that the urge to go had come upon him suddenly and surprised him. He was clearly upset by those even though I tried to let him know that it was OK. I tried really hard to get him to use piddle pads in the house but he would just hold it as long as he could until I took him outside. But still, quality of life was high. We were still going to the beach and playing ball, though admittedly, less throws less far.

But this spring the writing was on the wall. Bertie had slowed way down. He was clearly physically uncomfortable. I started carrying him up and down the stairs. My biggest regret is that I couldn’t find him a place with a yard, but our second story apartment was literally the only place available when we moved in 2017. I made a vet appointment and we hoped that it wouldn’t be a big deal. Maybe he just needed a medication change. But I also told him a few days before that it was OK if he was All Done. I had hoped that he might go quietly in his sleep. No dice. We went to the ER again and they thought it might just be pain related to arthritis, they gave us some pain meds and sent us home. After that he had a great day. He ate a jar and a half of meat flavored baby food (this dog was NOT a big eater on a good day, so this was huge). He was drinking water again. Spirits were high. I thought there was a slim chance that maybe this was just another bump in the road, not the end of the line. Then the next day he didn’t drink any water and didn’t pee. Remember the kidneys? I was desperate for him to drink, I kept taking him outside and begging him to pee. The day after that was the vet appointment we made in the first place and we all knew what was coming I think, though again, there was still some denial. The vet did some bloodwork and then came back with the news that I knew was coming, that his kidneys were shot.

I said, “OK. We’re done.” The vet looked relieved that I understood and wasn’t going to demand other options.

I’ve thought a lot about the phrases “There was nothing we could do,” and “There was no other choice.” They’re intended to be comforting I think. But we did have other choices. I could have gotten a second opinion. I could have taken Bertie home and watched him die slowly over the next couple days. I could have demanded that they do everything possible to save my dog, eek out as much time as possible. I would have pushed a stranger under a bus for more time with this dog. But I didn’t make any of those choices. I chose to have Bertie euthanized and end all his pain and if I had it to do over I still wouldn’t make another choice.

I brought Bertie home. I cleaned him up, brushed out his fur. I gave him his pillow (if you know, you know) and his favorite ball, wrapped him in plastic wrap and put him in the freezer.

If you need a good instagram follow check out Dr. Paul, aka @hexenkult. His content isn’t for everybody (he has a lot of photos of human remains and weird art as well as funerals he conducts for road killed animals. They are beautiful but upsetting to some), but he has a background in pet grief counseling and a deep compassion for animals and the people who care for them. He recommends not making any decisions about a pet’s disposition for several months. The vet will offer to take care of it for you, and in a moment when you’re shocked and grieving it can be easy to agree to a quick cremation. But it may be valuable to give yourself some time to consider what you want to do. You can’t take back a cremation.

For a time (and maybe even now) I felt like I needed to do All The Memorial Things. Like I could take care of him in death in a way that I couldn’t when he was alive. I’ve got an appointment coming up to get a memorial tattoo. I got a glass locket and put Bertie’s fur inside it. I felted it into a heart and added some dried flowers. I’ve worn it every day. I know that at some point I will want to wear other jewelry so I decided that I’d wear this every day for a year. I do think the Victorians were on to something with their elaborate mourning wear because I’ve often wished that I didn’t have to tell people. That they could look at me and just know. I met my girlfriend’s family for the first time last week and she was talking about her cat and her brother very politely turned to me and asked “And you have a dog right?” I did not start crying in that strip mall burger joint but it was a near thing.

I’m a fairly private person. If you’ve ever wondered why I stopped posting videos of Bertie, it’s partly because of this. I knew it was coming. I did not want to deal with any parasocial followers judging my decisions about Bertie’s care, or making helpful suggestions of things that we’d already tried. I’ve also been private about my grief. Lizzy has been wonderful, she told me “The hardest thing you’ve ever done was your greatest act of compassion,” and that’s just so beautiful I want to embroider it onto a throw pillow. But early on I couldn’t bear some well meaning stranger who’s never even met my dog suggesting that “he’s in a better place” or similar. Although, in retrospect I think that may be a bit unfair. Most people aren’t just trying to smooth over awkwardness, they are genuinely sorry to hear about my loss.

It’s been a couple months since Bertie passed. I miss him like an organ. But I also just miss having a dog. It gives a structure to your whole day. I have often thought “This wouldn’t feel so bad if I had curly ears to pet.” A few weeks ago I met a lovely chocolate standard poodle named Hazel and I petted her and didn’t cry in front of her owner, a nice stranger who had no idea of the significance, that we had just taken Bertie’s body to the artist who is going to preserve it for me and we were getting frozen yogurt after because I didn’t want to go home yet.

My mother recently got a brand new puppy and I visited her last month partly as a test, to see how it would feel. And it was lovely. The puppy did some puppy thing that reminded me of Bertie and made me cry but in a happy way, instead of sad, for the first time. I taught her one of Bertie’s favorite tricks, and it felt good. It felt like giving her a piece of him to carry. She still does it, my mom tells me on the phone every time.

I’m making this post now because I’m getting a new dog. A new little poodle monster. I might have put it off indefinitely but I didn’t want to just start dropping the new dog into conversation when not everybody knows Bertie is gone. I paid the adoption fee yesterday and he’s coming on a transport from Texas next week. I’m very anxious about the transport. I don’t know much about this dog. I haven’t met him. He doesn’t have a name. He’s definitely mostly poodle, but not all. The foster said he’s “Friendly, outgoing, and gets along with other dogs.” He’s just under a year old, about the same size as Bertie. Looks absolutely nothing like Bertie for which I am grateful. And that’s all I know. I’m excited to find out who he is. I want to teach him all Bertie’s tricks and games. I want to share the things Bertie taught me, and I want to pet curly ears. We can always lose anyone at any time, I think that’s important to remember. But I am excited to have a young dog again. Before Bertie I had Amelie, another poodle who lived to be 16 and passed when Bertie was about 8. So I’ve had senior dogs for the better part of a decade really. I don’t know how much of this new dog I’ll want to share with the internet at large, but I suspect I’ll be more willing to be forthcoming since I won’t be actively anticipating his loss.

I took apart Bertie’s soundboard a few weeks after he died. I took all the batteries out of the buttons and put them in a box. I kept out his name button which I plan to place with his remains in what can only be described as a shrine. I also kept Love You. I planned to do the same with that one but Katelyn requested that we put that on Rosie’s board. That we keep it in use.

Thank you for reading.

-Anna