I knew the day would come, but it came too fast. If only we had two weeks, two days, or even two hour notice on deaths, so we could begin a countdown. And yet really, the day came too slow. He was so old and fragile, and his health had been declining this last year. But then he would have extra pep in his step every once in a while, like the other day I was laying on the floor with him and he was attacking my hand playfully and wanting me to throw his beloved dodo toy. And he never really slept with us anymore but last Saturday he came to the edge of the bed and scratched at the side which meant he wanted to curl up with one of us for an hour or two. Those were always really special Saturday mornings when he chose us.
Our precious Diesel took his last breath on September 10. It was very unexpected. That evening Brett looked down at him and Diesel looked at him as if trying to tell him something. I tried to get Diesel’s attention and his head lolled over to my direction and he stared at me as if he was pleading, but something in his eyes was off. I panicked and rushed towards him to lift him out of his bed. Brett carefully took him out of my hands and took him over to the couch. Brett’s whole hand fits over Diesel’s body and when he holds him against his chest it has always soothed Diesel to sleep:
He hadn’t eaten anything so I pureed a tiny bit of chicken. Brett held the dish to Diesel’s mouth and he was able to take a few bites and then laid his head down. I thought it might just be one of his bad spells and he’d be okay once he ate. He’d had bad spells for years and they usually only lasted a few hours.
Brett held Diesel to his heart and whispered to him like he always does to calm him down. Then suddenly Diesel arched his neck unnaturally back along Brett’s chest to look up at him. Their noses touched. Brett kissed him. I will never forget that moment and the look in Diesel’s eyes: confusion yet total trust and love. At that moment we knew he was dying. A few seconds later, Brett said, “I think he’s gone.” Diesel had quietly slipped away, and Brett’s hands had felt the final beats.
Boo was in the shower when Diesel died. We could hear her singing and we both sat with Diesel crying over his tiny 2-pound body not wanting to tell her. Of course she was devastated when she finally found out. I told her I had been praying and praying over a few months for God to please let Diesel die at home with us, peacefully. And I had been praying. And every day I asked Diesel if he still wanted to be here with us and he always answered yes with his actions and sweet personality. He always wanted to be included in everything even though he couldn’t quite keep up. We included him any way that we could.
I guess you could say that September 10 was the day that Diesel finally said no. We had been dreading that day and it started out as any other day. Earlier that day Diesel had garnered up enough energy to venture outside when Brett came home for lunch to lay in the sun. We are so thankful for the last few minutes we had with him. I think he waited for us to come home, and when we did he waited for us to pay attention and notice his struggle. I hope he didn’t struggle long. I just couldn’t bear it.
That first night without Diesel was the roughest of sleeps. There was no pitter patter through the night like I was used to hearing.
Waking up the next morning reality set in. I went and looked in the round wooded box Diesel was resting in. As I was making coffee Boo walked in sleepily and looked into the box then turned and headed back to her room. I could hear her sobbing and when I went to check on her she said, “I prayed all night that God would bring Diesel back to life, but he didn’t.”
While Boo was at school Brett and I went to a nearby nursery to pick out a small Japanese Maple for Diesel’s grave. At home Brett dug the biggest hole I’d ever seen. We had all decided we didn’t want to bury Diesel out anywhere by himself. We wanted him close by. We chose the sunny spot right next to the back door, by the woodshed, where he used to often stand in the sun and sniff the air before heading back inside.
Finally at home as a family we said goodbye to Diesel for the last time. Boo gave him one of her old blankies and packed his toys in with him. We lowered him into his final resting place and it took us a very long time to have the courage to cover him up:
Our house seems half empty now. Because of Diesel’s arthritis we had a dog bed in every room for him. Max wouldn’t dare try to sleep in any of them, he still won’t. So I got rid of them. In the last few years Diesel had to go to the bathroom with increasing frequency, every 2 or 3 hours, so we had little mats everywhere for him. Those are all gone now. Because all of his teeth were gone a lot of preparation went into his food each morning and evening. Sometimes if my mind was elsewhere I would make his food and accidentally leave it on the counter and he would stand there patiently and prance a little as if to say, “I’m still here waiting patiently Mom!” He was so forgiving.
Last night Boo and I were cleaning out the dishes from the dishwasher. She was handing me the dishes for me to put away and then she paused for a second. When I looked down to see what she was looking at she was holding the small white soy sauce dishes we used for Diesel’s food. I started crying and just couldn’t stop.
Then I was cutting red peppers for dinner I started crying again. Diesel would always come running when I cut peppers, watermelon or cucumbers. He was so quirky and loved those three. He never begged for any food except for those and he knew the sound of knife slicing through.
I still look for him during the day when I walk by where his bed sat in the living room. He would lay there all day watching me go back and forth and I would have conversations with him each time I passed.
I still look for him at night after everyone is in bed, when I get back up to get water and say goodnight. I would lean over his little sheepskin bed and whisper goodnight to him. I would scratch his ear and he would lean into my hand to tell me how good it felt.
Today was our first day that felt like fall and all I could think all day was: Diesel would have loved this day outside. And there are reminders of him everywhere, like the little stairs and handicap ramps we had to aid him around the house. Even the front porch is a reminder, where he would hobble out to sit and bask in the sun. And each time we went back in he would pause and wait for Max to enter first because if he didn’t Max would dart in so fast that he would flip poor Diesel over. But Diesel was just happy to have sat in the sun just a few minutes warming those old cold bones, because dogs don’t think about death or sickness or that they feel bad…they just think about the small earthly moments of bliss…the ones that we humans don’t even recognize most of the time:
He never really asked for anything but a little sunshine.
Our house has these wonderful little square stone cutouts by Diesel’s resting place. Boo has used the cutouts to leave him little gifts (just like her namesake). At sunset the light shines through the stone windows highlighting and casting a glow around him. We didn’t plan that but I like it:
I think it is possible to die from a broken heart. I can’t believe how much we’ve all cried over Diesel’s absence. I can’t stop thinking about how small and fragile he was. Anyone who’d ever met him swore he must have been the smallest dog in the world. Once I gave him a piece of dry dog food and it literally got stuck in the roof of his mouth because his mouth was smaller than dog food. His little skull was the exact size of a golf ball. His heart, having seen it once on an x-ray, was the size of a grape. A grape. And it beat for almost 14 years. I slept next to him for a while the night he died because I couldn’t get his eyes to close. I thought maybe, just maybe, he would take another breath. Maybe his heart had just slowed and we couldn’t hear it. I didn’t want to leave him alone. For a while my eyes keep playing tricks on me and it looked like maybe he’d taken a breath, maybe the blanket had moved a little. But then I’d stroke his fur and whisper to him and he grew colder and colder and I knew it was final. Final. I hate that word. And I hate that the dead grow cold, especially when you just want to grab them and hug them close but you can’t because they are frozen like statues. It’s a mean part of nature I tell you, but it’s also a compassionate part of nature because otherwise I’d still have Diesel’s body with me and, well, we all felt better once he was put to rest. But it still kills me that he’s under that dirt now. And then how Max reacted, he ran all over Diesel’s body like it wasn’t even there. It made me mad that he was acting like a sociopath and I was a little resentful at first but then decided that maybe Max is part of our learning to move forward. He moved on the moment Diesel’s spirit left, his attention moved to: hey! walk! bone! throw the duck! hey! walk! what’s up?! can I see? squirrel!
To heal we have to crawl towards a place where the grief can slowly settle into place like sand between the good stuff. Max moved on immediately because dogs only see the good stuff. Dogs don’t even know how to think about bad stuff. That’s why I saw a little dog running down the middle of the road the other day having the most epic day ever in his mind, with no regard for safety. His tongue was hanging out and his nose was in the air and he was like: best. day. ever. Because dogs just live for the moment and they love the air, and the grass, and worn out tennis balls, and sticks, and eye contact, and a quick pet of the ears. Humans should be more like dogs. Yesterday I was collecting teeny tiny rocks in the back yard and I found this every so tiny heart shaped rock. It was the size of my thumbnail and it was embedded in the dirt so tight it took me a minute to wedge it free:
And maybe it was a little sign from above and I hope it was because there is a big empty void right now…he’s been my little trusty sidekick for so long, spending most of the last 14 years in my lap through study, work and leisure. He was even my trusty little sidekick through cancer. This is Brett’s favorite photo of him, standing guard while I was trying to recuperate from the emergency hysterectomy / chemotherapy I had at Loma Linda a few years ago:
This is probably my favorite photo of him, as we were moving cross-country:
Because we had just recently almost lost him and I was so happy just to have him safe and secure with us. God gave us another year and a half with him. I should be thankful for all those answers to prayer and that huge big answer, but what I would give to be able to hold him one last time.
On Instagram a few of you had been asking where he was the past few months, because most of my dog photos were of Max, our newest addition to the family:
Max is a quirky one but I do think he extended Diesel’s life…putting a little pep back in his step. I think Max reminded Diesel that he was a dog again. Diesel chased Max around the house and tormented him to no end. Their antics made us laugh so much that we wondered if we should intervene. But I thought Diesel wouldn’t want to be remembered as so old and frail. He would want us to remember him like this:
Last weekend Boo had a bad dream and couldn’t get back to sleep. Brett ended up sleeping with her for the rest of the night. The next day she said she had a dream about death but she refused to share anything else. About an hour after Diesel had taken his last breath Boo said, “Remember that dream I had the other night? The one where I said someone died and I didn’t want to say who?” Then she added, “The who was Diesel. Diesel was the one who died in my dream.” Maybe this was our notice.
I desperately try to believe all the things that I am telling my daughter as we move forward. Like how awful it would have been for Diesel to die at the vet, in such a sterile environment with poking and prodding and scary, fearful noises. Like how grateful we should be that Diesel had such a loving family because some dogs never even get a chance to feel such a love. And how wonderful it was to die in his Daddy’s hands, against his Daddy’s heart, every heart beat accounted for by both Diesel and Brett (I will forever be grateful to my husband for his tender moments with our dog).
I tell her that Diesel is in heaven even though some people insist that animals don’t go to heaven. And sometimes I do wonder, because often I wonder just how so many humans spanning hundreds of thousands of years fit into my idea of heaven let alone the animals, but any doubt just leads to overwhelming despair. And my heart begins to crack in a way that cannot be repaired and I feel like I might actually die like they say you can but then I think: what kind of a God would banish such a sweet fragile soul to nothingness?! So yes, Diesel is in Heaven, riding around in a bicycle basket with my father like he used to years ago. And he has teeth. And his vision has been restored. And there’s no more scar tissue in his tiny little bowels. And his arthritis is gone. There is no pain anymore.
Our neighbor’s daughters came over yesterday and the first thing they asked was: where’s Diesel? Boo told them: he’s dead. Natalie, the 4 year old, had a wave of sadness come over her and she said quietly: ohhh, Diesel. Holding back tears I took her to his grave and I told her all these things that I have told Boo, and I told her with “know” in my heart. She nodded and knelt down to pat Diesel’s grave whispering: goodbye Diesel. And then I said: gosh, he could be kind of mean sometimes right? And we all laughed because he really did like to bite the ankles of any child that ventured into his path. (And he did like to attack the mail man and the UPS or Fedex drivers. Not that he could hurt anyone because he didn’t have any teeth and he was half blind, but maybe when you are that old and frail you just want to prove you still have the fire in you.) And then the girls made flowers for his grave:
I know it will get easier. But getting easier means we are leaving part of him behind. And there’s the guilt of moving on. He was so old and fragile for so long that our entire lives were patterned around his needs so I feel like we are embarking into unknown territory. It’s both freeing and sad. And maybe that’s the hardest part, to know that he will slowly fade.
And this is why I write: to remember.
Rest in peace sweet little itty bitty. In Heaven.
There are things I need to tell you, but would you listen if I told you how quickly time passes?
I know you are unable to imagine this.
Nevertheless, I can tell you that you will awake someday to find that your life has rushed by at a speed at once impossible and cruel. The most intense moments will seem to have occurred only yesterday and nothing will have erased the pain and pleasure, the impossible intensity of love and its dog-leaping happiness, the bleak blackness of passions unrequited, or unexpressed, or unresolved.
-Meg Rosoff, What I Was
Thank you all for reading about Diesel over the years and sharing in his life. Give your pet an extra hug and kiss from our family today.
Amy Anderson (@modpodgerocks) says
Oh no. I am so sorry. I lost my first dog that I ever had on my own in 2012 – my pug Nellie. We’d lost family dogs before, but it wasn’t the same. I cried for months. She was 13.5. Now I have another 13.5 year old pug, Roxie, who I worry about. I love dogs – but I don’t love the aging part. And no one can ever prepare you for it.
Your tribute to him is beautiful. It is weird, reading this about a dog I’ve been following on social media for so long. Hopefully he’s playing with Nellie, in heaven. <3
This is the most beautiful tribute to your beloved Diesel. I have thought of you and your family often since reading your post Thursday night. His spirit lives on and his impact on your family will know no end. Praying many blessings and special peace for each of you.
Sherry R. Belul says
I just fell head over heels in love with Diesel.
What a gorgeous tribute to such a bright and loving l’il spirit. I’m so incredibly sorry for your loss. But at the same time, I am so happy you all got to love one another for the years you had together.
We need a word in our language that can explain the pure joy of that kind of love when it is mixed up with the grief of loss. Someone once told me it is like a cherry blossom that has fallen from the tree.
Thank you for your beautiful words + videos + photos, which connected me to love tonight.
In a sweet bit of synchronicity, I just discovered that quote by Meg Rosoff the other day. I really believe that in the face of knowing how quickly it all goes by, the one thing we can do is to truly be as present as we can + to love as much as we can. It is obvious that your family does just that. And Diesel lived like that!
What beauty in such a tiny package. Thank you for sharing Diesel with us.
Mary ann says
Such a beautiful piece Ashley. We will all hold Diesel in our hearts. We lost our boy Spike 2yrs ago and buried under the 2 color rose tree on our front walk. He has flowers and sea shells and a little plaque with his paw print. We talk to him daily as we go in and out. Hugs!
Veronica Jones says
I literally cried through your whole post. I lost a beloved dog 5 years ago and it took me several years to get over it – sometimes I still cry over him. These fur babies are more than pets. We belong to them as much as they belong to us. I am praying for your healing and that the happy memories help balance out the sad ones. Rest in Love Diesel.
I’m sorry that your little buddy passed….but I truly believe that his spirit will still visit in between rides in that little basket on the handlebars. What a lucky little dog to have such a loving family.
laura londergan says
Oh Ashley I loved reading this as you have a way with words that touches my soul. I am typing through the tears as I feel he was as much my dog as yours since I have been following for so long. I loved watching this video of him again as he is just the cutest little spitfire! =) And I truly believe he is waiting for you all in heaven. No worries as you will never forget him but with each day God will make it a little easier for you to keep going. xoxo
Sheryl P says
So sweet and raw and real. Rest in peace, sweet Diesel. I know just how you feel, I identified with so much of what you wrote. My sweet Kramer was frail and sick the last 12 mos of his life and, like you, we waited for the sign of when he was ready. We changed our lives to support and care for his “special needs” during the last year of his life. And when he did finally pass, it was so very hard because I felt lost – I was so used to caring for him and that was no longer needed. And, he was gone. Death is so final. It’s final, and sad and just plain old gross. I felt lost for a while and lonely and sad and guilty. I still think of him often and some memories make me laugh and some make me cry. It does get easier. Less crying and sadness. Yes you will fell guilty for “moving on”, but we have to or we’ll die inside and that’s not what Diesel or Kramer or any of our loved ones would want. I believe God (and Diesel) brought Max to you months ago to help you heal when Diesel moved on. We had that blessing too – 1 year before our sweet guy died, we adopted a pup, and she has helped make Kramer’s death bearable as she’s a nice distraction. I’m sending you a warm, virtual hug and wish that you find peace in the days ahead with all your lovely memories of Diesel.
I’m sitting here crying right now reading this. I lost my Melo nearly 3 years ago, and to this day my heart aches at just the thought of her. I miss her so much. I understand your pain so well. She got sick suddenly, and after being misdiagnosed by a vet, she passed away on 12/15/2012. She had trouble breathing all night and I stepped out of the room when my mom said she’d sit with her because I was sobbing and exhausted. She waited for me to come back before giving me a kiss and then taking her last breath. Recently I found one of her dishes in the cabinet when cleaning out some things and I sat and cried for the longest time. This was an incredibly touching tribute to your furbaby Diesel. I am so very sorry for your loss, and you are in my thoughts, hoping your heart is healed.
The most beautiful tribute I have ever read…for beast OR man! Just try to remember….that pain in your chests that you are feeling is Diesel’s tail wagging inside your hearts!!! <3 "Grieve not…nor speak of me with tears ~ but laugh and talk of me as if I were beside you…I loved you so…'twas Heaven here with you." ~ Isla Paschal Richardson. <3
I am so sorry for your loss. I have lost 4 pets since my dad passed away 14 years ago. The ONLY thing that got me thru their deaths was that they were up there in heaven with my dad (and my childhood dogs) . When my grandma died when I was 14, I had a dream about her and my childhood pets. I told my parents about it at the time, and I describe this other dog that was there too….it was a dog of my mom’s from childhood that they never took pictures of and mom had forgotten until then. HUGS to all ……I’d love to tell you it gets easier, but it doesn’t grief of any form just dulls …..Diesel had a wonderful life with your family.
I am so very sorry for your loss. I am almost 30 and just now have my first dog – she’s already two and I can’t believe how much love my heart holds for her. Dogs aren’t just pets – they are truly a part of the family. I cannot imagine how much you will miss him. He was so lucky to be a part of your family, and there is no doubt how much love and comfort he received from you over the years. Xo
Such moving words. But his beautiful little life goes on in the hearts and minds of those who loved and cherished him.
June K says
I’m so sorry to hear about Diesel. My heart goes out to you and your family. I’ve always smiled at his name.. . a super tiny dog named Diesel because he has a heart of a huge truck. Rest in peace, Diesel.
Jen in Jersey (for now) says
Crying for you, for Boo, for Mr. LBB, and a little for me….
Such an eloquent and beautiful post, wonderful tribute to such a sweet (and mighty!) little dog. I have followed your blog and followed Diesel for years and my heart goes out to you and your family. I have a Yorkie also, she’s 8.5 years old and I have seen her begin to slow down, hesitate before jumping up onto the couch, etc. We lost our 14 yr old Bichon last fall, and there is still a hole in my heart. I only wish they lived as long as we do….but unfortunately, they do not. I wish I had better words to convey what I am feeling. Wish I could give you all a hug. Run free, little guy.
Alexandra Ralston says
I am so sorry! There is no heartbreak like that of losing a beloved pet, especially one who you got to love on for so long. What a beautiful tribute to a precious fur-baby.
Sending you all love and prayers. Your post was a beautiful tribute to a beloved family member. Diesel is indeed enjoying pain free life eternal in Heaven.
Brenda Garner says
Such a beautiful post. I am so sorry you and your family are hurting so. Loss like this makes your heart hurt physically. It is very real and painful. To be so little Diesel seemed to have a large personality. He had a wonderful life and in his death the rest of us get to glean from your beautiful transparency. I personally want to thank you for that. We have never meet but I think you are a beautiful person. I pray as you move through your day with such a heavy heart SOMETHING will be able to bring a smile to your face. Sincerely.
I’m so sorry. We’ve lost beloved dogs too and I have two sweet miniature schnauzers who are my constant companions. It is heart breaking to lose them. I’m glad you have little Max. he’ll be a comfort while you’re still grieving.
Loved the video. Such a sweet tribute to Diesel. We will be praying for your family! He was a lucky little guy to be so loved for so many years.
He was perfect.
Tonya Davidson says
Beautifully said with heart felt love and pain.
Thank you for sharing.
Rest in peace Itty Bitty.
Raw emotion after reading this, but I did chuckle at your sociopath comment about Max. My daughter (21) came to me the other day in uncontrollable tears asking if I though animals knew when they were going to die. Her cat of 18 years had been not eating that day and extra loving to her. He’s still alive but nothing I say or do can prepare her for the day that her Buddy Boo passes. I tell her to love him everyday, take time to snuggle him everyday, care for him tenderly and when that day comes and that pain hits you it will not hurt as bad because you know you took good care of him, loved him greatly, and gave him the best life possible.
I live the same for my Min Pin of 12 years Rocco.
Hello….I was brought to tears reading the wonderful tribute to your lovely dog Diesel. I am so sorry for your loss. I now know I am not alone in my grief. I lost my faithful companion, Calvin, on September 8. He was 15 years old and was the best dog that I knew. Prayers to you and your family on healing ….Lisa
Terry Carter says
I’m so sorry about Diesel. I’ve been thinking about you for days but just didn’t know what to say. I remember so well that picture of him guarding you when you were going through chemotherapy. What a little trooper he was. When we lost Razzberry, our little Shitzu who was almost 15, the way I was able to handle the grief was just to think about what a good home she had with us. Diesel had a wonderful home with you three and he will be waiting for you in heaven. Meanwhile, he will check it all out. Love and prayers.
I am so sorry you have lost your companion. We do not ever forget our pets and I like to think we will meet them again in another life. my thoughts are with you
Love to all of you.
Janice Blackwell says
Thank you for sharing, Ashley. Thank you for sharing your Diesel Tales over the years, thank you for sharing your heart.
Such a sweet, sweet story of how he died in Brett’s hands. And so sad too. I am sorry for your loss. Love to you.
I am so sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing this sweet story. It shows us how special every moment is. — every vivid detail.
🙁 too hard to choose joy right now
Diesel- rest in peace you were loved!
Nothing feels worse than losing a pet. You will mourn forever…but he knows how much you love him and that will keep his spirit strong. Kia kaha to you all xxx
Oh, Ashley. After reading about Diesel on instagram I knew you would post something here. This was so hard to read because I know how precious Diesel is to your family. I remember that video when you first posted it. You captured his feistiness and life! Such a great thing to have. God made the animals and saved them along with Noah and his family during the flood. I can’t believe He wouldn’t have them in heaven. No way. Hugs.
K G Palmer says
I think thru your stories we all fell in Love with Diesel too, thanks for sharing his life with us, tears and prayers for his little soul. I agree he is in heaven.
My girls and I loved little Diesel…we will always remember him on the doughnut pillow he used to have. Diesel was lucky to pass away in loving arms. You will always remember him. We are always reminded of our dogs that have passed when we see random things going about our daily lies, and it always brings us a smile and a chuckle.
He’s not really gone. . . he’s just gone ahead.
I hope he’s sniffing the celestial breezes with my sweet Chet, who went ahead on a beautiful morning last winter.
My god, you just destroyed me. I lost my baby 2 weeks ago very unexpectedly to lymphoma at 7 years of age. This has been so devastating for both my husband and me. He was the most special kitty I have ever encountered. You have a good day, you think you’re doing well, and then you see something that reminds you of them, and the stab of grief hits you so hard it takes your breath away. All memories with him are tinged bittersweet. I know one day they’ll be just sweet again, but that day seems so far away. I’m crying with you today, Ashley. *hugs*
I am so sorry for your loss. We lost our dog last March and I was once again amazed by the overwhelming grief that comes with the loss of a beloved pet. Thank you for sharing a beautiful tribute to Diesel. Wishing you peace. Namaste.
Laurie C. says
I have been following your blog for years (I don’t have a blog myself) and hadn’t checked in for awhile. Imagine my shock to find that sweet Diesel had passed away. My dog represents all that is good in this world and we love our dear pets just as much as if they were human. So sorry for your loss. He was a dear friend to you and was by your side during some of your worst moments. Lucky dog he was though to be loved and adored by you and your family. I wish you strength as you move forward in your grief. xo Laurie
Sending love and prayers to you and your family!
I’m sorry about your little guy. I have an old dog and dread the day. It’s the worst feeling ever. He was loved until the last moment. There is solace in that.
I came across your blog today via a link from Pinterest, and had to let you know how wonderful your work is. This post had me in tears. Your writing is so beautiful, your voice so clear and heartfelt. Losing a pet is so terribly difficult, and you’ve put in to words what so many of us can’t. Thank you from the bottom of our furry little hearts…
rest in peace Diesel ♥
I am so sorry for your family’s loss. The loss of a pet’s unconditional trust and love is so painful. I’ve read and enjoyed your blog for years and loved hearing about Diesel. Pets are with us such a short time and their love and happiness are so special…I’m glad that you had each other and that Diesek had such a great life.
When I read this, I was in shock. Have followed your blog for a long time and knew how sick Diesel was but I burst into tears and showed his pictures to my family We are so sorry for your loss. We have a little rescue named Henry. He is a hot mess that I love so much. I immediately thought of him and held him for a long time. And guess what, I don’t want a heaven without him. So glad Brett was holding him, i know he felt safe and loved. Boo’s flowers were beautiful.
So sorry. I know the pain of losing a beloved pet who is one of your children. It makes your heart hurt. Diesel was always there in your blog. I loved the little guy too. I do believe, like you, he will be waiting for you just across that rainbow bridge. The two, three, or four of you will have so much fun again. There are days when I can feel my Callie around. I choose to believe she is. It’s comforting. So glad you have Max.
Sharon Collins says
Ashley, I just read about Diesel. I’m so sorry. I lost my 6 yr old pug on the 17th of Sep. I think they know. My Pepper was very sick. I had told her we would bring her home. She was cremated & lies with our other pug, Mooey, who crossed the Rainbow Bridge 10 years ago. She knew she was leaving. She cuddled with me. Loved me. Looked at me with knowing eyes the last week of her life. The day before she died she cried tears when we left the vet. The next day was an emergency trip to the hospital. My grandson said he could leave his toys on the floor & they wouldn’t be chewed up. Well, I will put those chewed up toys in her memory box as a tribute to her. A cat has tried to take her place by licking Petey, Pepper’s brother all over his face. Petey & Jake the other pugs now give me extra attention but a girl dog, well they seem to stay playful & get in trouble more often. It’s just not the same.