It is okay.

Dear Facebook memories,

I cannot decide if I am angry at you, or if I am grateful for you.

If it were not for you, I would not know. Curse you.

If it were not for you, I would not know. Thank you.

I was in my early 20s when Harley came into my life. Her father was OJ, an beautiful and majestic Great Dane. He was perfection. He was gentle, kind, wonderful. Her mother was a Great Pyrenees. I did not know her, but I had seen pictures.

As OJ’s groomer I had earned a level a trust from his parents that to this day I am proud.

The trick to being an excellent groomer is not the skill of the styling, although that is important. It is the level of comfort which the client has when they leave their beloved pets in your care. I was an excellent groomer with moderate styling skills. The dogs loved me. The parents loved me. We were all very happy.

When I learned of the puppies, I knew I must have one. I was given my choice. I perused pictures. I met babies. At five weeks she was five pounds and Harley came to my home.

I had never had a puppy before.

I have not had a puppy since.

Harley brought me years of happiness, joy, safety, and love. Her birthday was Valentine’s Day. I always felt that was appropriate.

I could sit all day and tell of stories, memories, joys. The wonder of life with a wonderful dog. Those who knew her, already know. Those who did not, you may have an idea but you can never truly know of her perfection.

At about 12 ½ years, Harley’s heart started to go bad. It was found quite by accident. If you believe that the exam your veterinarian requires annually when giving vaccines is a sham, you are sorely mistaken. Harley was there to board and needed vaccines. The doctor could have easily poked her with the needle and sent her on her way but she did not. She took the stethoscope in hand and listened to her heart. And she heard it. Bongo drums. Her heart is not supposed to sound that way.

We began heart medicine on my gentle giant of a girl who had already lived longer than the average Great Dane OR Great Pyrenees.

There is no preparation for the slow decline of a pet.

She stopped eating.

I bought all of the fanciest canned food that PetSmart had to offer.

Nothing.

I started cooking for her.

I would offer her something. Some egg perhaps. She would eat it.

Yes! I have found something!

I would prepare more and she would turn her head.

Boiled chicken and rice.

One bite and done.

Ground beef.

One bite and done.

Steak.

One bite and done.

She turned into a skeleton, a shadow of who she had once been.

There has to be something else I can try!

She began losing control of her bladder and her bowels. I would come home to find a mess and I would be frustrated.

Then I would feel ashamed.

She would not eat again and I would grow angry.

And I would feel ashamed.

Due to my frustrations and anger, I felt I could not let her go. I had convinced myself that to put her down now would be selfish, an act of convenience. I held on longer than I should have out of guilt of feelings I could not express, I was too ashamed to express.

I felt myself a horrible person for being angry, for being frustrated, for being tired of this wheel.

And she worsened.

And worsened.

I woke up 5 years ago today and knew today was the day.

She went to work with me and I let my Harley girl go.

I compassionately and humanely put an end to both of our suffering. My pain was to ebb and flow for many, many months, but my Harley was free.

I would walk into my home and for a moment I would have forgotten that she was gone. I would look around for her. Why is she not on the couch? That’s weird.

Oh. She is gone. The sadness would come again.

My life was made better for having had her in it.

I share this today to say this:

It is the deal we make with them. We will love them and they will love us and they will bring us years of joy. And then we will outlive them and it will hurt like hell. It will be worth it. It is okay.

No one can tell you it is time. Only you can know. And you will know. You will also doubt yourself in this. It is okay.  

You are not selfish. Letting a declining pet go is never selfish. It is okay.

You will be frustrated. It is normal. This is a terribly painful and difficult experience to walk through. Be gentle with yourself. It is okay.

They trust us to care for them to the end. Do that. You can. I know you can. It is okay.

I miss my Harley girl each day still. But I would not trade it. I would not trade what she gave me for the 13 years that she was my family for the pain and struggles at the end.

My head still says maybe I should have let her go earlier. Maybe I should have tried more, hung on longer. The reality is, I let her go at exactly the right time. Five years ago today.

I love you, Harley girl. We miss you here.