Losing a loving friend hurts to the core, especially when they are with us through thick and thin. Sending you so much LOVE in the hopes that you can hold all the perfect moments with him in your heart. I have never EVER shared my writing, but here goes. I lost my loving golden retriever friend about 5 weeks ago. He was there by my side through breast cancer, and then a hysterectomy-- and I was by his side for life's simple pleasures of walks and cuddling every day. My need to voice my anguish and love prompted this love letter to him:
Dearest Toby,
Yesterday came upon us so suddenly in some ways, and so progressive in the other ways. You died at nearly 14– 13.75 years young to be exact. OLD for a golden. The night before, I had a clear vision- the kind of vision one has between sleep and awakeness. It said “I am afraid”. I felt into the feeling and went to sleep, in the hope of accepting the fear, and trying to understand it. You were feeling good all night, sleeping on your side, touching me all night. We two are one. In the early morning, you went and slept on Bobs pillow beside me as he went to pee. You haven’t moved from you spot in months at night- but I know you love the pillow. You are a dream come true, and I am thankful for every day we were together.
The morning was our usual- you going out to pee and poop and coming back in and waiting patiently for me to be ready to go for a walk. You gave me a clue you weren’t well when you didn’t want to come up the stairs—because of the salt- I thought. When you came up I had to coax you, and it was frigidly cold so we waited for the day to warm up a bit.
Then you started uncontrollably shaking and I went over to hold you-- screaming for help-- adrenaline rushing ,and my legs couldn’t stop shaking. The seizure felt like it lasted forever- you with your tongue out, legs moving, sweating and wheezing. When it stopped you couldn’t see us, listened but couldn’t see. You growled at Bob and Talia, and I thought you were trying to protect me as I held you. But you didn’t recognize my voice and you turned your head and bit me— a big chunk out of my lip.
Why go over this story of the end, when we have so many other love stories to tell? Like the day we got you, and you immediately decided that I was your one and only. That changed over the years, and you gained a few other one and onlies— after lots of love and confidence building.
The meta story is one of love and connection. For the past 11 years I have taken you on long walks every day, fed you raw meat, took you to to the best holistic vets for color therapy, acupuncture, massage, and everything else to heal you. You wanted an alpha who would offer you the structure you needed to be the best dog you could be. And I delivered. But I got so much in return. I got whole-hearted connection EVERY DAY, and you showed me how to open my heart and keep it open.
WE are a love story. A never ending love story. Even the photos recollect your awe and love for me., and my happiness with you. You keep telling me: stay open, and I feel calm. I will forever feel your ultra soft auburn, red and golden hair, and your rose colored muzzle turned grey with age. You lived the way you died, smiling and content in my gaze.
Sarah always said she thought you were a lover from a past life— your eyes always on me. To be seen, truly seen is the best gift a person could ever have, and for that I will be forever grateful.
I understand the heartbreak Suleika is feeling over Oscar’s death. There’s just nothing like the loving bond and heartfelt experience of having a dog. It’s undecorated love at its best! All of us who have dogs know part of the journey is departure, the dreaded goodbye and the emptiness that follows. I am sorry the timing of Oscar’s death was while Suleika was healing herself and planning to return to him. Thankfully with the passage of time, the raw sting of death subsides and memories sustain us. I see that sweet Oscar was loved and always first in her thoughts and concerns. In her absence, you, Liz, sustained Oscar and gave everything you had to make his days happy, meaningful and full of love! A beautiful send off when it was what he needed.
I feel my heart minced into those million little pieces. The unconditional love of our animals is like no other. This kind of heartbreak that has yet to be named. (in English anyway) May Oscar be running around with new and old friends. Feisty and Fierce. And spreading his doggie love all over!
They sure do teach us, and on THEIR terms.
My kitty Stella saved me when my daughter passed away. There was something so primal and comforting about laying our bodies next to each other, and hearing our mutual heartbeats. It reminded me that life goes on. It made me listen to our oneness (despite the difference in cat and human heart rates.) Holding my Stella gave me a window into the power of the life force, without words; without anything else, but two heartbeats melting into one.
Suleika, may you feel the heartbeat of a million others, knowing you are not alone. May you feel held and loved through this loss with no name.
Feb 28, 2022·edited Feb 28, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad
Good Dog - Bad Dog - I am a man and beautiful Oscar never bit me when I rubbed his butt. I had heard about Oscar taking shots at mostly dudes when being petted and figured, while being careful, oh no, not me, not this little runt, he'll never get a piece of me. Boy was i wrong!!! After a few interactions with my little friend, I think he realized I was onto him when he would spin around to take a shot, but eventually he then just gave in to the pleasure of my dog loving presence. I have been around dogs for most of my life and it was clear pretty quickly, Oscar, while having an attitude (especially w/men), he and most dogs don't really want to be bad. Getting down on the floor with him at his domain and level turned out to be my best strategy to exchange love. I wish we could have had more time together, but I know, he served his purpose while being here (Good boy). Whether he was sharing his Napolean strut or craftly stealing giant hunks of food right off the coffee table, cruising in a VW bus across the nation or dodging traffic in New York, he was a recipient of the wonderful life he deserved. Love always present. Thank you, Liz. It is heartwarming to visualize Oscar sharing his time with you and those you love.
Sorry to hear about Oscar. This is really beautiful, thank you. I just got a dog for the first time, and he spend the last few days on my chest as I caught corona, and am glued to the images of war. He just hangs out with me and as I read this, any doubt that I had that I am really not a dog person despite getting a dog for my child went away. I am looking forward to all the lessons, and actually he did inspire me already to write about him, which I never thought would happen.
Crying my eyes out over your loss of Oscar especially when you are going through so much. It’s so painful to lose your beloved pet, but not being able to be there to kiss him to the other side is heart wrenching. I said goodbye to my 20 year old kitty over the phone when I was pregnant living in Washington state waiting to have a home birth. My husband was with her in Saudi Arabia. It still hurts. I send you love and hugs dear Susu. 😘🎈
For 16 1/2 of his 21 1/2 years, I was blessed with my brown tabby cat, Roy. He chose us as his people, me and my allergic husband, when he wandered onto our deck and decided to stay a while. as that comfy deck chair was a perfect spot from which to watch and chatter at the birds at our feeder. Slowly, he wormed his way into my heart and our home. We made a deal with my husband, Roy and I, that our bedroom was off limits to his fur. And even though our bedroom was a loft and Roy could climb those stairs at any time, he respected our agreement. Roy probably understood me better than I did him. Those deep green eyes of his could bore holes into my soul, I was sure! Roy became the third leg of our three-legged stool, and a much-loved part of our story. I always dreaded the time he would leave us and how I would respond, how would I make that difficult decision to let him go, if intervention was necessary. A dear friend told me, "Don't worry, you will know - Roy will tell you." And she was so right....it was in Roy's eyes, that he'd taught us all he knew and it was time for him to rest. He left as quietly as he came. And even though our three-legged stool was wobbly for a long time, we still fondly remember and cherish our time with our shy boy with those deep and loving emerald eyes.
I am so so sorry about the loss of Oscar. What a super companion in a compact scruffy and little body.
Just over 13 years ago, our black-labbish and quite tall mutt, Belle, came into our lives. At the time, my mom was visiting, and so I was overwhelmed by entertaining her (my mom). My son, Jake, 11 at the time, therefore became Belle’s chief human and best playmate. Belle is an anxious girl, and sadly, her anxiety seems to be triggered by being hugged and given snuggles. Unless I or we go away and return, she is not so affectionate. She simply curls into a ball in the corner. I’m like “what the heck,” I want the affection. I know that she loves us, but dangit, I want snuggles.
As the years went by, Jake moved on to college and to another town semi-permanently without Belle. I then became her chief playmate. My hubby Steve adores her and walks her, but doesn’t really play. So, while she isn’t a snuggler, per se, I get down on all fours and lower my head, sticking my long hair into her snout. Then I wait until she gets the idea, that it’s play time. I also take her out into our fenced-in back yard, which I call her Holiest of Holies, and watch her prance around like the happiest creature, like it is totally where she belongs. Then, I launch fake attacks at her. She responds by doing figure eights around the yard, zig-zagging through the arborvitaes, speeding across the grass until she reaches a certain bush and quickly digs. She then returns and we repeat the process.
Belle is now 13 and is aging rapidly as dogs do. Her black snout is white now, her belly frosty. I realize that she may have 1 or 2 years left, if we are lucky. While not so affectionate, I have learned that I have to let Belle be herself, and that the Universe didn’t intend for her to be one of those super cuddlers. And, that’s okay. We are all designed differently. Dogs included. Lord knows, I have my own foibles, just ask Steve. If I get a tail-wag, and on those rare moments when I am fortunate enough to stick my nose into her peppery fur, that is the best she can give. And that is enough.
I tell Belle everyday (and our orange tabby, Edward and even our 15 y.o. turtle Josephine, “I am so thankful that you chose our family. You are beautiful.” They seem to get it. And, the moment is magical.
May Oscar watch over Susu and all his Beloveds from the realm of Loving Peace ✨️. (Vet, kids, most men -- you're on your own.) Liz, you are a treasure! 💜
What a terrible burden to bear on top of all your present suffering. I send all the love in me and hope you find enough comfort from your friends and family to ease the reopened wounds of grief.
Deep saddness that you would not able to hold your Beloved Oscar to say goodbye. A trusted friend, companion and healer. When I got my first Wheaten, as I held her the first night, "I said God chose you to teach me to love again." It was the end of a bitter divorce and my 49th birthday. She was my soulmate and shadow. When I found out she had cancer, I told God he didn't deserve her and to give it to me. I could fight it. I could not imagine life without her. Although I have a new companion, she has her own mind and will. Always happy but independent. Her first groomer said, God gave me what I needed. However, my first gave me the pursit love I have ever known.
Losing a loving friend hurts to the core, especially when they are with us through thick and thin. Sending you so much LOVE in the hopes that you can hold all the perfect moments with him in your heart. I have never EVER shared my writing, but here goes. I lost my loving golden retriever friend about 5 weeks ago. He was there by my side through breast cancer, and then a hysterectomy-- and I was by his side for life's simple pleasures of walks and cuddling every day. My need to voice my anguish and love prompted this love letter to him:
Dearest Toby,
Yesterday came upon us so suddenly in some ways, and so progressive in the other ways. You died at nearly 14– 13.75 years young to be exact. OLD for a golden. The night before, I had a clear vision- the kind of vision one has between sleep and awakeness. It said “I am afraid”. I felt into the feeling and went to sleep, in the hope of accepting the fear, and trying to understand it. You were feeling good all night, sleeping on your side, touching me all night. We two are one. In the early morning, you went and slept on Bobs pillow beside me as he went to pee. You haven’t moved from you spot in months at night- but I know you love the pillow. You are a dream come true, and I am thankful for every day we were together.
The morning was our usual- you going out to pee and poop and coming back in and waiting patiently for me to be ready to go for a walk. You gave me a clue you weren’t well when you didn’t want to come up the stairs—because of the salt- I thought. When you came up I had to coax you, and it was frigidly cold so we waited for the day to warm up a bit.
Then you started uncontrollably shaking and I went over to hold you-- screaming for help-- adrenaline rushing ,and my legs couldn’t stop shaking. The seizure felt like it lasted forever- you with your tongue out, legs moving, sweating and wheezing. When it stopped you couldn’t see us, listened but couldn’t see. You growled at Bob and Talia, and I thought you were trying to protect me as I held you. But you didn’t recognize my voice and you turned your head and bit me— a big chunk out of my lip.
Why go over this story of the end, when we have so many other love stories to tell? Like the day we got you, and you immediately decided that I was your one and only. That changed over the years, and you gained a few other one and onlies— after lots of love and confidence building.
The meta story is one of love and connection. For the past 11 years I have taken you on long walks every day, fed you raw meat, took you to to the best holistic vets for color therapy, acupuncture, massage, and everything else to heal you. You wanted an alpha who would offer you the structure you needed to be the best dog you could be. And I delivered. But I got so much in return. I got whole-hearted connection EVERY DAY, and you showed me how to open my heart and keep it open.
WE are a love story. A never ending love story. Even the photos recollect your awe and love for me., and my happiness with you. You keep telling me: stay open, and I feel calm. I will forever feel your ultra soft auburn, red and golden hair, and your rose colored muzzle turned grey with age. You lived the way you died, smiling and content in my gaze.
Sarah always said she thought you were a lover from a past life— your eyes always on me. To be seen, truly seen is the best gift a person could ever have, and for that I will be forever grateful.
I understand the heartbreak Suleika is feeling over Oscar’s death. There’s just nothing like the loving bond and heartfelt experience of having a dog. It’s undecorated love at its best! All of us who have dogs know part of the journey is departure, the dreaded goodbye and the emptiness that follows. I am sorry the timing of Oscar’s death was while Suleika was healing herself and planning to return to him. Thankfully with the passage of time, the raw sting of death subsides and memories sustain us. I see that sweet Oscar was loved and always first in her thoughts and concerns. In her absence, you, Liz, sustained Oscar and gave everything you had to make his days happy, meaningful and full of love! A beautiful send off when it was what he needed.
I feel my heart minced into those million little pieces. The unconditional love of our animals is like no other. This kind of heartbreak that has yet to be named. (in English anyway) May Oscar be running around with new and old friends. Feisty and Fierce. And spreading his doggie love all over!
They sure do teach us, and on THEIR terms.
My kitty Stella saved me when my daughter passed away. There was something so primal and comforting about laying our bodies next to each other, and hearing our mutual heartbeats. It reminded me that life goes on. It made me listen to our oneness (despite the difference in cat and human heart rates.) Holding my Stella gave me a window into the power of the life force, without words; without anything else, but two heartbeats melting into one.
Suleika, may you feel the heartbeat of a million others, knowing you are not alone. May you feel held and loved through this loss with no name.
Good Dog - Bad Dog - I am a man and beautiful Oscar never bit me when I rubbed his butt. I had heard about Oscar taking shots at mostly dudes when being petted and figured, while being careful, oh no, not me, not this little runt, he'll never get a piece of me. Boy was i wrong!!! After a few interactions with my little friend, I think he realized I was onto him when he would spin around to take a shot, but eventually he then just gave in to the pleasure of my dog loving presence. I have been around dogs for most of my life and it was clear pretty quickly, Oscar, while having an attitude (especially w/men), he and most dogs don't really want to be bad. Getting down on the floor with him at his domain and level turned out to be my best strategy to exchange love. I wish we could have had more time together, but I know, he served his purpose while being here (Good boy). Whether he was sharing his Napolean strut or craftly stealing giant hunks of food right off the coffee table, cruising in a VW bus across the nation or dodging traffic in New York, he was a recipient of the wonderful life he deserved. Love always present. Thank you, Liz. It is heartwarming to visualize Oscar sharing his time with you and those you love.
Thank you for writing so beautifully to tell us. Sending all love and light 💕✨
Sorry to hear about Oscar. This is really beautiful, thank you. I just got a dog for the first time, and he spend the last few days on my chest as I caught corona, and am glued to the images of war. He just hangs out with me and as I read this, any doubt that I had that I am really not a dog person despite getting a dog for my child went away. I am looking forward to all the lessons, and actually he did inspire me already to write about him, which I never thought would happen.
Beautiful tribute. “Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.”
Anatole France
Im speechless. My heart feels so much for you Suleika.
Crying my eyes out over your loss of Oscar especially when you are going through so much. It’s so painful to lose your beloved pet, but not being able to be there to kiss him to the other side is heart wrenching. I said goodbye to my 20 year old kitty over the phone when I was pregnant living in Washington state waiting to have a home birth. My husband was with her in Saudi Arabia. It still hurts. I send you love and hugs dear Susu. 😘🎈
For 16 1/2 of his 21 1/2 years, I was blessed with my brown tabby cat, Roy. He chose us as his people, me and my allergic husband, when he wandered onto our deck and decided to stay a while. as that comfy deck chair was a perfect spot from which to watch and chatter at the birds at our feeder. Slowly, he wormed his way into my heart and our home. We made a deal with my husband, Roy and I, that our bedroom was off limits to his fur. And even though our bedroom was a loft and Roy could climb those stairs at any time, he respected our agreement. Roy probably understood me better than I did him. Those deep green eyes of his could bore holes into my soul, I was sure! Roy became the third leg of our three-legged stool, and a much-loved part of our story. I always dreaded the time he would leave us and how I would respond, how would I make that difficult decision to let him go, if intervention was necessary. A dear friend told me, "Don't worry, you will know - Roy will tell you." And she was so right....it was in Roy's eyes, that he'd taught us all he knew and it was time for him to rest. He left as quietly as he came. And even though our three-legged stool was wobbly for a long time, we still fondly remember and cherish our time with our shy boy with those deep and loving emerald eyes.
I am so so sorry about the loss of Oscar. What a super companion in a compact scruffy and little body.
Just over 13 years ago, our black-labbish and quite tall mutt, Belle, came into our lives. At the time, my mom was visiting, and so I was overwhelmed by entertaining her (my mom). My son, Jake, 11 at the time, therefore became Belle’s chief human and best playmate. Belle is an anxious girl, and sadly, her anxiety seems to be triggered by being hugged and given snuggles. Unless I or we go away and return, she is not so affectionate. She simply curls into a ball in the corner. I’m like “what the heck,” I want the affection. I know that she loves us, but dangit, I want snuggles.
As the years went by, Jake moved on to college and to another town semi-permanently without Belle. I then became her chief playmate. My hubby Steve adores her and walks her, but doesn’t really play. So, while she isn’t a snuggler, per se, I get down on all fours and lower my head, sticking my long hair into her snout. Then I wait until she gets the idea, that it’s play time. I also take her out into our fenced-in back yard, which I call her Holiest of Holies, and watch her prance around like the happiest creature, like it is totally where she belongs. Then, I launch fake attacks at her. She responds by doing figure eights around the yard, zig-zagging through the arborvitaes, speeding across the grass until she reaches a certain bush and quickly digs. She then returns and we repeat the process.
Belle is now 13 and is aging rapidly as dogs do. Her black snout is white now, her belly frosty. I realize that she may have 1 or 2 years left, if we are lucky. While not so affectionate, I have learned that I have to let Belle be herself, and that the Universe didn’t intend for her to be one of those super cuddlers. And, that’s okay. We are all designed differently. Dogs included. Lord knows, I have my own foibles, just ask Steve. If I get a tail-wag, and on those rare moments when I am fortunate enough to stick my nose into her peppery fur, that is the best she can give. And that is enough.
I tell Belle everyday (and our orange tabby, Edward and even our 15 y.o. turtle Josephine, “I am so thankful that you chose our family. You are beautiful.” They seem to get it. And, the moment is magical.
This quote, from Margaret Wise Brown, was my prayer to my cats and then through my pregnancy and new motherhood:
Dear Father, hear and bless thy beasts and singing birds, and guard with tenderness small things that have no words.
May Oscar watch over Susu and all his Beloveds from the realm of Loving Peace ✨️. (Vet, kids, most men -- you're on your own.) Liz, you are a treasure! 💜
What a terrible burden to bear on top of all your present suffering. I send all the love in me and hope you find enough comfort from your friends and family to ease the reopened wounds of grief.
Love and hugs to all touched by Oscar. May the memory of his love and devotion help carry you through the grief.
Deep saddness that you would not able to hold your Beloved Oscar to say goodbye. A trusted friend, companion and healer. When I got my first Wheaten, as I held her the first night, "I said God chose you to teach me to love again." It was the end of a bitter divorce and my 49th birthday. She was my soulmate and shadow. When I found out she had cancer, I told God he didn't deserve her and to give it to me. I could fight it. I could not imagine life without her. Although I have a new companion, she has her own mind and will. Always happy but independent. Her first groomer said, God gave me what I needed. However, my first gave me the pursit love I have ever known.
Suleika, My soul weeps with you.