Cori was what many people would call my “heart dog” although I love ALL my dogs with all my heart!
Cori was a rescue pup, a golden retriever mix of some sort. My parents actually picked her out when I was off doing something else… they knew I wanted, needed a dog at that time, and they wanted to try to help me get a good one. I wasn’t bothered by that. I was just happy she was with us!
When Cori was about 2 years old, she went blind in one eye. Her diagnosis was glaucoma. She and I navigated just fine actually, with vision in just one eye. She learned to adapt pretty quickly.
It was when she lost vision in the other eye about a year later, when the trouble started. All of a sudden, she was totally blind, at age 3. She started bumping into things and being terrified of her surroundings. Who wouldn’t be, when all of a sudden you can’t see? I was so upset, as you can imagine.
The next step was emergency laser surgery to try to save the vision. It didn’t work.
After that, there were discussions of what’s next. Should we euthanize? Some family members suggested perhaps that was the best option. I remember though, a conversation I had with my dad as we were walking together. I was trying to pinpoint the best solution, and iron everything out detail by detail. I said to my dad, do you think we should put her to sleep? My dad, in his usual calm voice, said something like, “I don’t think we should jump to that.” I then asked, “Well how long should we give it to get better before we decide?” Again calmly he said, “I don’t think we need to give it a set time.” At the time I think I was thinking gee Dad, why don’t you have an answer for me? But looking back, he was so right! Thanks Dad!
For the next 12 or 13 years, Cori and I became even more inseparable. I felt ultra-responsible for her, considering her blindness. I brought her with me as much as I could, and we lived in four different houses together. Each one, she mapped out with some help from me. Cori’s special situation, and my emotional response and devotion to keeping her safe as a blind dog, made our bond extra important then and in my memories now. We went through a lot together. She was my inspiration to write about her and other blind dogs, to cook her special food and become interested in dog nutrition, and so much more.
When she was 15 1/2, I could do no more for her. I tried many different meds to keep her comfortable. She stopped eating, and couldn’t walk. I felt I couldn’t do any more, and the vet gave me one more option – euthanasia. I felt like I was collapsing or suffocating inside. I remember two days before the event, I was trying to stay productive doing some house cleaning. At one point, I basically stopped, dropped to the floor and starting crying and hyperventilating. I said out loud, How am I ever going to go on without her? It was a panicked, powerful moment. I felt so helpless, and doomed, like I could not go on without her. The next two days took forever, and when the day came, the vet came to the house (which I think is really the best way to do it, if there is a best way) and Cori was actually already asleep. I swear sometimes it was like she knew what was going to happen, and she was staying asleep for me so it would be a smooth transition.
Before Cori, I had three cats, and three dogs over the course of my childhood and young adulthood. My little poodle, Muffy, was the first really painful loss of a pet. I got him when I was 7, and he lived to about 19 years old. I was incredibly resistant to what I called “killing my dog” (euthanizing) but looking back, I do believe I waited too long. This is a common issue we struggle with as animal caregivers. When is the right time? How soon is too soon, and how late is too late? This can weigh on us significantly and it is a personal, unique decision that takes great care and thought.
After the euthanasia, I remember coming into my parents’ room late many nights, after being out with my friends (I was in my 20s at the time). They patiently told me it was okay and let me cry while sitting on their bedroom floor as they were trying to sleep. It was a long, painful process to deal with the loss of my constant childhood sidekick I grew up with.
There is no easy way to deal with the death of a companion animal.
In closing, my pets are my children, my best friends, my exercise buddies, my protectors, and the center of my world.
Do you feel the same? Email me with your thoughts and for additional support.