When I was a teacher, I would sometimes have students shyly approach me and say they did not complete their homework because their pet died the night before. I always told them not to worry about the homework. They were learning about loss and grief.
Sadly, two months ago, my dog, Smooshie, passed away after being with me every minute of the day for the last nine years. He came down with a slight cough, and I thought he had caught a virus from another animal he encountered at the groomer. Instead, the vet diagnosed Smoosh with advanced lymphoma and, without treatment, was told he had less than a month to live.
I wasn’t ready for the hole he would leave behind in my life.
Almost nine years ago, I saw a picture of a young Shih Tzu on a Facebook animal shelter site. He had escaped from a terrible puppy mill. I stepped in, and Smoosh came home with me.
We came up with the name Smoosh Face because, after competing with dozens of other dogs for food at the puppy mill, he had become accustomed to smashing his face in his food to protect it and ensure he had enough to eat.
After a bit, it was just shortened to Smoosh, or as my 2- and 4-year-old would call him, Shooshie.
The vet said Smoosh could have a high quality of life for another couple of years with treatment. I handed them a blank check and said let’s do it. But no treatment worked.
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Thankfully, he was not in pain, was always eating, and was still his loveable self. But the tumors were pressing in on his trachea, and his cough was getting worse. He was starting to have trouble breathing.
On our last trip to the vet, our last car ride together, I had my come to Jesus moment. I had just been telling Smoosh that soon he would be joining our other dog up in heaven — who passed only two years prior.
While driving, I asked God for a sign that I was doing the right thing. A few minutes later, we drove by an older man walking a young Shih Tzu down the road. I drove around aimlessly for another 10 minutes, not wanting to head to the vet, and we drove by the same man with his dog.
I decided spur of the moment to pull off to the side of the road, and the man approached me with his Shih Tzu. He saw Smoosh and asked how old he was. I could barely speak at that moment and said this was his last ride. We were heading to the vet.
This stranger put his hand on my arm and asked if he could pray for me and Smoosh. I held Smoosh, and the man prayed for us.
Fifteen minutes later, Smoosh was with me at the vet and crossing over.
Anyone who has lost a beloved pet knows just how difficult this loss can be. The silence around the house has almost been unbearable. I no longer have Smoosh following me from room to room.
This loss has broken my heart, and it has been difficult to move past. My whole family is grieving.
Our young toddlers surmised that Smoosh must have run away, and I didn’t have the heart or strength to tell them the truth.
To help relieve some of the grief, I decided to take the family on a trip to an animal shelter.
A four-month-old puppy was abandoned at birth and then, not long after, came down with the parvovirus. The shelter said they thought he had actually died a couple of times from it but fought through the illness and survived. He needed a family.
It had only been a month since Smoosh passed on, and I was not ready to bring home another dog, but seeing the joy on my children’s faces overruled my preference.
We now have a pup named Scrappy Doo and have our hands full. I forgot just how difficult it can be to housebreak a puppy, but we’re getting there.
Hopefully, Smoosh is lending a guiding paw to Scrappy from the other side.
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