I don’t often share personal stories on this blog. Since I started my website, I’ve generally kept the content focused on food and history. Many writers treat their blogs as online journals where they pour out their thoughts, feelings, and emotions. I never really needed that before now. I preferred to keep my personal life and my website somewhat compartmentalized, at times sharing anecdotes and food-related stories from my home life, but nothing too deep. That changed recently after experiencing the loss of our 9 year-old maltese, Momo. In the midst of my grief, I posted his picture on Facebook and was overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support– hundreds of comments from people who understood this pain I was going through. Through this experience, I’ve learned there is comfort in sharing these moments… there is solace in hearing from others who have gone through this difficult transition. The Facebook community really lifted me up during a dark time. I wanted to take a moment here on the blog to express gratitude and pay homage to Momo, this little creature who made such a big impression on our lives.
BTW, if you only come here for food, and you’re not interested in hearing about my personal life, I totally understand. This post starts with a bummer and ends with a smile, so feel free to skip ahead to the happy ending, or just ignore it entirely. I won’t be offended, promise.
The picture above is Momo on Thanksgiving, a few hours before we ate dinner. It was a great day for our little guy. He got to see all of his family celebrating together. He spent lots of quality time playing and snuggling with the people he loved most. He also got to eat lots of his favorite food, unsalted turkey breast. It was a good day.
Things went downhill after that. He’d been battling congestive heart failure for several months, and we knew he was in the end stages– it’s a progressive disease, most dogs only live a year or so after their diagnosis. We knew the end was coming, but you’re never totally prepared for it. The day after Thanksgiving, he couldn’t breathe. I took him straight to the emergency vet, just as I’ve done so many times before as he battled this illness. This episode seemed different than the others– his breathing was very labored, he was obviously in more distress. They tried giving him oxygen and strong diuretics overnight to clear his lungs, which has always worked in the past. This time he wasn’t responding, instead he was getting worse. In the end there was nothing more they could do for him. I held him close, cuddled him and stroked his back, as they put him to sleep. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I was shaking from emotion, trying hard to stay strong and fighting my own urge to sob in his final moments. I know it was the right thing to ease his suffering, but the sorrow I felt was incredibly, surprisingly deep.
I think there is an element of guilt that most people feel when they go through this. Even though it’s the kind and merciful choice, you are making the decision to end a life… your friend’s life, your companion who has stuck by you for so long. The whole experience left a hole in my heart– an emotional hole, but it also strangely felt like something was physically missing from inside my chest. I felt hollow and aching and terribly sad. So did my husband. I think we were both surprised at the strength of sadness we felt.
Momo was such a sweet soul. He loved snacking on turkey and sitting in your lap. Whenever somebody was at the door, he’d bark like an attack dog. I think he believed he was 10 times his size. And yet, whenever he met new people he was as friendly and sweet as could be. He wanted nothing more than to please us. There is something strangely fitting about the fact that he had an enlarged heart… he was the kindest, most gentle little pup I’ve ever known. He followed me around everywhere like my little shadow, looking at me with those big brown eyes. He loved it when I’d make matzo ball soup; I’d tear the chicken from the bones in pieces, always saving the best scraps for him. When I was sick, he stuck to me like glue. When I was sad, he would sense it and snuggle closer. Dogs love unconditionally; they never judge you. They only ask for food, attention and kindness. Perhaps that is why losing them is so incredibly difficult. It’s not a complex relationship, it’s as simple as loving and wanting to be loved. If only human relationships were so pure.
After losing Momo, there was a part of me that thought I’d never get another dog. To go through that pain again, to enter another relationship with a dog knowing that the inevitable end comes far too soon, seemed too great a risk emotionally. We have a Labrador retriever, Marley and a cat, Muffin. I held them closer and let the tears flow. It would hit me in unexpected waves– seeing Momo’s old food dish or his bed would send me into a tailspin again. I didn’t blog much. You probably noticed fewer recipes here. I had to hit pause and be easy on myself. I’m sure you understand.
And then, a funny thing happened. My husband and I noticed our Labrador Marley was depressed. He missed Momo, and we missed having the energy of a little pup– a sidekick for our lab. While at first I felt heartbroken and unable to fathom getting another pet, our hearts slowly opened to the idea of adding another companion to our “mishpucha” (that’s Yiddish for family). A feeling of guilt nagged at me– “maybe it’s too soon,” I thought. I couldn’t replace Momo, he was irreplaceable. Then I remembered how depressed Momo used to get when I was sick or sad. He would lay his head next to mine and look into my eyes, just wanting me to feel better. He never wanted me to be in pain, just as I couldn’t stand to see him hurting. He wouldn’t want there to be an empty place in our home, a hole in our hearts. He would have wanted us to be happy.
And so, a few weeks later, my husband gave me a Hanukkah gift… this little guy, Milo.
Milo is a mixed breed, small like Momo. We’re told that because of his mixed parentage, he may be less prone to the genetic problems that led to our sweet dog’s untimely end (of course, there are never any guarantees in life). He’s 8 1/2 weeks old as of yesterday, a tiny ball of fluff and sweetness and spunk. He’s got a different personality than Momo, who was more shy and retiring. Milo is outgoing and ready to play at a moment’s notice. He also loves to snuggle, when he’s tired he’ll relax in our arms like a little rag doll. Our Labrador has been amazing with him so far; I think he recognizes how young he is. Marley has been remarkably gentle with Milo, even when he’s being an obnoxious little brother. Muffin, our cat, is not too happy at the moment, but she’ll adjust. We’ve been giving her lots of extra snuggles to keep her from getting too jealous.
We are in the midst of potty training, multiple daily feedings, and teaching this little guy the ropes. Every day is a new first for him. Yesterday he barked for the first time. Today he climbed down a couple of stairs, which seemed an enormous challenge for his tiny legs. Where sadness hung heavy like a cloud after Momo passed, Milo has brought new light and energy to our home.
The sadness still hits me in waves from time to time. As we lit the candles for Hanukkah, celebrating the third night of the holiday and Milo’s first night with us, we placed Momo’s pawprint next to our menorah. His memory lives on in all of us. I am so grateful for the years we had with him.
Glancena Williams says
I’m so sorry for ur loss!!!!
stella jones says
Hey Tory I read you all the time and get your news letter on my email. may I just add one more story that may help get through the grief. At 66 have lost too many loved pets to cancer of one form or another and refused to have them go through chemo. Heck if a human has a hard time imagine how they would feel. anyway 5 years we lost our mutt Taco Loco and it was hard to think I would get another. then one day a friend’s dog was having pups and I piped up. he was the spitting image of taco though half his size. My husband who has mental damage calls him taco though his name is Pickles. there will always be enough room in ones heart for one more beloved pet. my heart goes out to you.
Melody Coleman says
Oh Tori I’m so sorry for your loss of sweet Momo! I too am grieving. We had to put our 16-1/2 yr old lab down yesterday. His name was MoeMoe! I feel uncontrollably sad today and I’m having a hard time getting into the holiday spirit. Thank you for sharing Momo’s story, it helped uplift me!
Tori Avey says
Oh Melody, your post touches my heart. Wishing I could reach through the screen and give you a big hug. It will get easier with time. MoeMoe and Momo are playing together happy somewhere, knowing more peace than we have ever known! Hang in there.
Christina M Williams says
I am so incredibly sorry for your loss. Don’t be hard on yourself for feeling sad. This kind of grief is a difficult thing to navigate. I had to put my 18 year old dog to sleep in May and still cry about it.
Melody Coleman says
Thank you Tori and Christina M Williams for your kind words. ❤️
Yvonne Harris says
Melody and Christina please get another dog to take care of . You will not forget your other pets , but there are a lot of dogs ot ther needing to be cared for xxx
Melody Coleman says
Yvonne we had just got a chihuahua puppy in June which she does help to bring joy but we will probably get another Lab next year! I’m just really missing Moe’s presence! Thank you!
Leah Singer says
Thank you for sharing. We lost our beloved retriever mix this year. I’m still sad about it. But it does get better. I’m happy you found a new member of your family to love. There really isn’t anything better than finding another pet to bring into the family and love!
Maureen Klesmer says
So sorry for your loss. RIP Momo. I know you’ll live on in your mommy’s heart.
Ann O'Brien Cooney says
I know the pain, it will get further away and Milo is, I’m sure, a huge help.
Valerie Ahrens says
So sorry for your loss. Milo is so cute❤
Lyn says
Hi Tori,
Thanks for sharing. Non pet owners fail to realize our fur babies are like small children. I am so sorry for your loss. My schnauzer is in decline, and I dread having to face the day she will no longer be with us. The new puppy will never replace Momo, but the heart is a wonderful thing with great capacity for love.
Tori Avey says
It’s so true. They are like our children, and the pain of losing them is very real and raw.
Maryjo Afonso says
I’m so sorry for your loss I myself have a Maltese female she’s five years old and I didn’t know what I would do if I lost her
bobbie jo says
Tori, PLEASE dont feel guilty about needing to put ur dog down, he was suffering & u took care of him best, as he always took care of u…..I personally I think momo gave milo to u to fill ur hearts with joy again…. NO GUILT…. ONLY LOVE…..Blessings & Happy Hanukkah
Donna Bolyard-Gerson says
Such a heartwarming story.
audrey says
Hello Tori,
thanks for sharing your story!
I was wondering if you made that paw print yourself of you had it done somewhere?
Thank you!
Tori Avey says
Hi Audrey, they did it at the vet for me. I think there are kits available for it online if you’d like to make one yourself. I didn’t realize how comforting it would be to have that little piece of him with us… a nice memory that we will cherish.
Pat Lawson says
Wonderful blog from the heart, Tori! Welcome, Milo, I’m looking forward to watching you grow and learning of your escapades!!
Halcyeon Nowack-paniagua says
There is no shame in mourning a much loved furbaby ,I know the feeling too well .Keep Momo in your heart, but do not close your heart to another furbaby when you are ready.
Kathy Hull Ross says
Beautiful!!! we understand and am glad their is now a smile on your face, more love in your heart and a new furry, fun, ball of puppy.
Dorothy at Shockingly Delicious says
so, so sorry for your loss, and glad you have welcomed a new family member.
Kathy Gillen says
I know soon I will have to do this also, and I don’t know if I have enough strength to hold him while they put him to sleep, I know that’s what he wants but I will be devastated….Luca is my best buddy and nicest dog I have ever had, it surely will be a heartache..sorry for your loss….
Tori Avey says
Kathy it is so hard, I know. Just take it one day at a time and cherish every moment.
Meredith Bittner Wilson says
Kathy…I urge you to be with Luca when it’s time. It’s difficult yes, but also peaceful. It comforts me to know the last thing Alex felt was my loving touch. He felt safe in my arms. He gave me so much love in his too short life. God bless you and your lovely Luca. And Tori, thank you for sharing. I’m so happy you have a new little boy to love!
Terry Diemer says
I used to shun being with my pet as they passed, but I am learning that it is the last act of love I can show. (tears)
sandi bretz says
Tory, I am so glad you shared your story – Momo seemed like precious dog about whom you will have wonderful memories. Your little Milo could not be cuter! Having him means many accidents in the house, many chewed things that aren’t meant to be chewed, many funny incidents about which you’ll laugh over the years and many many more wonderful memories. He was definitely a very thoughtful (albeit time consuming) Chanukah gift. Chag Sameach and thank you for all your recipes which I’ve used over and over.
bgl says
Thank you for sharing this. Our Morky crossed the Rainbow Bridge last spring, also from congestive heart failure. And yes – I believe sometimes these little guys have hearts that are just too big. Every furry family creates a much bigger place in your heart to share love. As lucky as Milo is to have you, you are also lucky to have found him. Wishing all of you much joy this holiday and for the new year
Gayle Goldberg Cohen says
Tori. Boy do we dog people understand!
We have lost many dogs in our lifetime and just recently lost our 11 old pittie Skylar to lymphoma after about 2 months of Chemo