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.
Welcome Milo the best thing that could have happened.
August this year I had to say good bye to my darling best friend of 16 years my Lucy golden retriever. The pain and longing missing is terrible so my heart goes out to you. Love from these little souls is unconditional and special. The day will come and you will want a new little darling. Sorry for you
So sorry to hear Tori… Now seeing all my past pets( 7) of them over my life time…..
It’s hard losing our furry family members.
Love these doggies very sad when you have to put them down. Still miss mine after three years.
I too had a Maltese to age 13 named Samson.
He was the best friend.he contracted stomach cancer and we had to ‘put him to sleep. I had to go in because Carol was too distraught and had to wait outside for me. It was a very difficult thing to have to do but our devoted family member deserved not to suffer. I too held him while Dr. administered his sleep shot. We said our good byes before the shot. I held him close. Told him he was a good boy and he would be in our hearts forever. I petted him during the shot. Then Carol n I sobbed in the car for a while before returning home to grieve some more. We miss him a lot.Samson was so devoted to us.
I am so sorry for the loss of Momo who liked like the sweetest dog…and congrats on the arrival of Milo! Milo will not take the place of Momo as he was a separate being but he will ease the pain and loneliness over the loss of Momo. Your new “little buddy” is adorable and it sounds as though he is fitting in perfectly.
I, too, was surprised at how raw the pain was after we put our beloved poodle Snickers to sleep, also from congestive heart failure. He was 12 1/2. Everything you went through sounded familiar. It took us two years, but we now have another canine member in our family: Toby. Sweet, mischievous, and full of energy. He’s been a great comfort as we’ve dealt with losing my mother in September. And my heartbroken father is getting a brand new puppy on January 1! (He’s 89 – he and Mom had been together 64 years.) Yes, dogs are a special – and important – part of our families. Congrats on your adorable new baby, and sincere condolences on the loss of your sweet pup
Sitting here sobbing after reading your blog brought back having to put down my dear Teddy, a Cockapoo, in 2005. It still seems like yesterday and I still miss him even though we have two other pooches. Teddy was special and will always have a place in my heart just like Momo will in yours! God Bless You!
Your story was touching and something exactly I could write too same exact story but my little pup was named Madison same thing exactly
This was a very heartwarming post. My family has gone through justice. It doesn’t get easier. Rip Mojo.
I’m so sorry to hear about your loss, but it’s wonderful you are healing with this adorable pup! I am going through a very similar thing, so thank you for sharing!
First let me say that I am so very sorry for your loss. It’s like losing a family member. Second, is a warning to all you pet lovers. I know Momo died from heart trouble but last year I lost my beloved Timmy 2 days after Christmas from feeding him turkey. He got pancreatitis from it. His Dr said most dogs cannot digest turkey well. I don’t want anyone else lose a fur baby
Terry thanks for sharing this. I have heard that turkey skin, fat and bones are dangerous for dogs; the fat and skin can lead to pancreatitis if consumed in large quantities, and bones can lead to choking. However, turkey breast meat (like Momo ate that day) without skin, salt or seasonings is considered safe as far as I know– it’s the same as chicken or any other meat. The concentrated dose of fat is the thing that can be problematic. Always avoid meats that have been seasoned, salted, or flavored with onions or garlic, which can be toxic to dogs in large quantities.
Dear Tori,
Thank you for sharing the story of Momo and Milo. You wrote about your experiences so eloquently that I was moved to write to you.
We have Pekingese, all rescues, starting with our first, Shasta, who was a purebred Peke descended from champions–amazingly, no one wanted her, but we did (we got her from a co-worker of my husband). She was my very first dog–I grew up with cats–and we adored her. She was 9 months old when she came to us, and it was like having a baby for us (we don’t have children). As time went on, we added two more rescued Pekes, Rusty and Lady, and then tragedy struck. Pekes are plagued with orthopedic issues, and Shasta was undergoing a routine surgical procedure to repair a torn ligament that was giving her a lot of pain. She had two skilled, experienced surgeons working with her, our regular vet and the orthopedic vet–and we got the horrible call that we never expected: she had gone into cardiac arrest shortly after they anesthetized her before beginning the procedure. She died on the table, after incredible efforts to revive her. The day was Dec. 27, 2010, and that day still haunts me; Shasta was 6 1/2 years old, still a young dog.
We were devastated; I couldn’t sleep at night. I kept dreaming about my little dog, all 9 pounds of attitude, with her chest laid open as they administered direct heart massage, trying to perform a miracle. It got so bad that I finally went to my doctor for a sleep aid, and that did the trick–at least I was able to sleep.
I understand the feeling of “I don’t want any more, it’s just too painful to part with them,” or “he (or she) is irreplaceable.” I had all of those feelings. We did have two other dogs, and Rusty in particular needed a companion; Lady was much older, going blind and deaf, and in her own little world. So I knew that we would get another Peke–it was just a matter of waiting until we felt like we were ready.
On President’s Day weekend a few months later, I went to Petfinders.com (I have to stay off that website, or I’ll adopt them all!), and I found Jasper, who was rescued from a puppy mill. He came home with us, and is now, after nearly four years, practically inseparable from Rusty. Jasper will be 6 years old in a few weeks.
Our latest rescue is Sunny, who is mostly Peke, but definitely has something else in her woodpile, because she has mannerisms that are definitely NOT “Peke-like,” such as liking to dig–that’s too much work for the boys! But talk about really mending broken hearts–we adopted her in April 2014, and she has the attitude that Shasta had (that the boys really don’t have), and so much personality, she just lights up a room. We have no idea how old Sunny is, but our vet estimates she is about 2 years old.
I know I’ll go through it again, and again, and again–the grief and the pain of the loss–and it will nearly kill me. But the time we have with them is so worth the trade-off, so I know I will always want another dog. And those we have lost will all be waiting to meet us at the Rainbow Bridge.
I wish you and your husband and your “fur kids” a very Happy Hanukkah, and a blessed and prosperous 2015. And I very much enjoy your recipes!!
Thanks so much for your message Lisa. And bless you for rescuing!
Prayera
Losing a good companion is horrid. finding a new one is awesome. Having the strength and ability to let them go is good and bad. Glad you are honoring your Momo by not choosing to close your heart and mourn. You will cry any time you think of your pet, but you are choosing love over sadness.
So sorry
We’ve been there. I’m glad you got Milo. Momo would be pleased to do this in his honor.
I, too, empathize with your profound and physical heartache from the loss of a beloved pet. You really poured out your thoughts beautifully in your story. And I think it helps to put those deep feelings onto “paper” so to speak in this forum. You may wish to print out your thoughtful, heartfelt words as well ax the comments. It may help to read them occasionally. Wishing you millions of moments with all your loved ones, Jackie
I’m sorry for your loss. I know it is hard. God sends us sweet animals to help us thru life.