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.
Evan Hubner says
I am so sorry. Our Belle died of the same disease 5 years ago. Our hearts were as broken as hers and for years we could not contemplate bringing another dog into the family.
Esther Green says
(((hugs)))
Nicole Massa says
I’m a fur momma myself and my Diana is everything to me. She was born on the barrier islands when Superstorm Sandy hit. The only survivor of her litter. I fell for her the second I saw her. Two years later, I can’t imagine life without her.
Leslie Zanzalari Hollingsworth says
I lost my cat Gemini to congestive heart failure. He passed in my arms, it happened so fast we couldn’t get to the vet. He was 17, and I’d had him since he was tiny. He was my constant companion. It’s hard, every time.
Chanel Barnard says
Very sad to read this. I had to put one of my cats to sleep after having him for 13 years. When I hugged him for the last time, he didn’t even look sick. Wish you well.
Victoria Dennison says
sorry for your loss… I’ve been there and it is hard.
Anita Mitchell Goldberg says
Understand completely, had to do this more then once.
Lisa says
I am sorry to hear you losing your beloved companion. You made me cry, not only for you but remembering our loss and what we went thru – exactly like you, with our only 7 year old doberman, so young. My children and other pets were so distraught. 2014 started out as a bad year with this loss so I am praying for a wonderful 2015. As a new subscriber to your blog I wish you Happy Hanukah and a wonderful coming year. Good luck and much love with your new fluff.
Tori Avey says
7 is so young Lisa! So sorry for you guys. Praying that 2015 will be a much better year for you all!
Jeanne says
Dear Tori:
How much I know the devastating loss of a loved pet! The pain is so great. I have to pause here for a moment too – In our lives we have lost Spider (Shepherd/Collie cross),Lola (another Shepherd/Collie cross), both females, Sugar (an apricot Poodle), Zippy (mixed breed). Duncan (a Scottish Terrier), Chelsea (a Springer Spaniel), Charlie (a German Shepherd puppy, killed by a car), Tancy (our beloved whacky cat), Fluffy (a long-haired cat of my late sister’s) all of these we adopted from friends or relatives. When we moved to t his house 10 years ago I mentioned to my late husband that we should get another dog. He said NO, NO! And I understood because he was always was the one who said his last goodbye to them! Such courage that takes. I could not do it! When he passed away 3 yrs ago, the vet we took Fluffy to, had a 6 yr old German Shepherd whose family could not take him with them. And so, I now have a gentle giant Jake, a full blooded German Shepherd who is my shadow and constant companion who is 9 years old now! He has somewhat filled the hole in my heart after losing the love of my life (58 years). He is a mild, kooky, and loving soul, and greets everyone with his paw held out to say hello! All of my family has dogs & cats, and I guess that we are an animal loving family. I digress only to let you know how devastating it is to lose a beloved pet and my heart s heavy when I hear of someone losing one.. Keep Milo close and love him, for animals truly are just here to be a member of our pack, love us unconditionally, and keep us sane! My sincere condolences on your loss. I would post a picture of him, but unfortunately I don’t know how to do that! Just think of Rin Tin Tin, and you will know what he looks like. xo
Tori Avey says
Such a sweet story Jeanne! Thank you for sharing and for rescuing Jake!
Linda says
Thank you for this. I, too, lost my first baby, a 5 lp Shih Tzu, due to an accident many years ago. Like you I couldn’t imagine another little one capturing my heart but within a week,a rescue pup was brought to my attention and I couldn’t see her die before her time. She is now 15 years old and I have never regretted a minute of having her. I’ve taken in two more rescues in memory of my original little Punkindog. I feel both your pain and your new joy. God bless you.
Francine Novakoff says
We understand your pain. You did lose a member of your mispucha and it will take quite a while for the pain to ease – meantime you have wonderful memories and now, Milo to love and housebreak!
Sara Flynn says
Thank you for sharing your story Tori Avey. We all feel your loss and it was nice to see you understand the pain of losing a pet. Although I share your passion for cooking, I am glad we also share a passion for animals:) Have a blessed Hanukkah and enjoy your new love♡ Here is a picture of my cat Panda. She passed away at the age of 21 in September. She was a part of 3 decades of my life and helped me through some rough times. I have her Christmas stocking hanging up to honor her memory:)
Tori Avey says
Sweet kitty! Hope our cat Muffin lives a good long life like that!
Sara Flynn says
I wish that too Tori. Feed Muffin canned food with no grains and she will! XO
Laurie Leykum-Giliberti says
So so sorry
Jael says
So sorry to hear about your loss;Milo looked so adorable.Pets become part of the family and their loss is so felt. I have a dog too.And what a lovely chanukkah gift you got;Milo looks so cute!
Diane Levy-Rubinstein says
I am so sorry for your loss of Momo. Just b’cuz you have a new little baby milo doesn’t mean you don’t love and cherish Momo. No one is replaceable. You and your family have so much love that now you will give it to Milo. Who is so cute. What is his mix breed. Happy hanukah to you n your family
Babette Stahlman says
I know how hard this is…and so happy for you that MILO has joined the family !
pat d says
Yes, our dogs are our children and so precious We’ve had 4 pevoious dogs and they’re never will be forgotten. We now have 2 doxies and love them to death knowing we will only have them for a short while. (We also said we would have no more dogs!). So glad you got another.
Thea Steggall says
Sorry and hugs!
Jewel Isaacs says
Thank you for sharing!
Karen O'Shaughnessy says
We also said goodbye last Dec.26th to Munchkin after almost 16 years, It was very hard to experience even though I knew it was the right thing to do. I think it is our last act of kindness for our companions.