I placed your marker on your grave today.  That moment sealed the finality of it all.  Up to this point, my head knew, but my heart did not want to accept.

Your old collar and tag is draped across the neck of your stuffed animal, and it sits, just as you once did, on the end of the couch in “your spot.”   The collar you wore more recently was also given to your human sister along with your favorite wolf stuffed animal.  She asked for some of your hair as a keepsake as well.  Through her tears, she placed it in the back of her jeep as a loving reminder of your beautiful life and the memories shared together.

I made a photo album that captured some of our favorite moments with you.  I found myself clinging to those pictures as if holding on to them with all of my might would bring you back.  As I flip through the pages, I am reminded of how tiny you were when I first fell in love with you.  When we picked you up on your adoption day, you had grown quite a bit.  However, you still fit in my arms.  We have a picture of us all smiling widely as we embraced you and the beginning of our lives with you.

At the age of six months old, you were beginning to tower over your fur sisters.  Even still, you were my little tiny baby boy and would lay on my chest as you slept.  Your favorite thing to do was snuggle with your mommy.

You reached your full grown adult size by the time you turned a year old.   The rest of your body just needed to catch up and fill out.  It did so beautifully, and we adored looking into your gorgeous baby blue eyes.  As you grew, you no longer fit in my lap or on my chest.  Instead of picking you up now, I would bend over your back and wrap my arms around your chest as I embraced you.  You let me hug you, and there were even times you let me “spoon” as you were laying on my bed with me.  People who are not animal lovers certainly will not understand wanting to do this with your “dog,” but you were more than a “dog” to us.  You were our boy!

Oh, the fun we. had teaching you tricks.  You sat ever so attentively as you waited on me to give you commands.  You knew how to “shake” and would even switch your paws to “high five” me.  Oh the joy you brought into our lives!

Our time was not always filled with joy and obedience.  Oh, sweet boy, you were true to your Siberian Husky nature, and you were a runner!  I tried so hard to train you to stay with me, and you were doing so good as we played “fetch” together in the driveway.  Your human daddy was a bit too afraid to trust you, so he kept you on a leash any time he took you for a bathroom break.   Then my training went out the window as you would, then, bolt out the door any time you sensed freedom waited on the other side.  There were numerous times throughout the years where we all lost our religion as we begged and pleaded for you to come back when you bolted past us.  You ran as fast as you could with pure excitement and glee.  Meanwhile, your human family feared we would lose you forever as you ran after the scent you caught in other animals that frequented our 32 acres.  We would get so upset.   On more than one occasion, I began to cry because I feared you would not come back.  Then, as if you instinctively knew, you would reappear on the steps, panting and tired, waiting for me to open the door so you could take your place on the couch to cool down.

You enjoyed your time on our couch, and you felt you needed to be in “your” spot as much as possible.  When you were ready but we were not, you would become vocal.  There were times of laughter when you would howl with your nose pointed upward and also of aggravation when you showed your stubborn side and would let out a singular “ARG.”  While your “voice” was intimidating, you were harmless and would never intentionally hurt any of us.

We have memories of you playing in the rare snow in South Carolina.  We received more than a dusting of snow over two separate Winters while you were with us.  You loved being out there and would have stayed if we allowed it.  You would lay in the snow, try to eat it, and would run around kicking snow up in the air to play with it.  We laughed so hard at your antics as you enjoyed the moment and the cool air as we shivered, our noses red and cold from the freezing temperatures.  There you were, stretched out on the icy ground living your best life.

Just a few months ago, you were frolicking in the wildflowers in our front pasture with us.  I joked about you having a photo shoot, and I remember thinking how amazing those pictures would be of you sniffing the flowers.  The bursts of colors looked even more vibrant against your shiny black fur.

You weren’t always perfect, as there were challenging moments when we would go away briefly on vacations and our daughters would house sit for us.  They would complain about how much attention you needed, but the truth is that you just wanted to be with your people.  We were all your family, and you wanted to be near us.

I miss you so much, Shadow.  Every morning I look for you, knowing I won’t find you, but my heart won’t stop looking for glimpses of you.  Sometimes I even think I hear the jingle of your collar.

Your fur sister, Trixie, also looks for you.  It’s so heartbreaking, and I know she is grieving, too.   Trixie would sit with me on the couch, then make her way down to where you were laying on the arm of the couch, and y’all would play together.  Now, she curls up next to the stuffed animal wearing your collar, and my heart hurts because I cannot comfort her or make this better for her.  I cannot bring you back.

I’m so sorry for the tragic loss of your life.  We tried to make sure you had the best care right to the very end, and we poured our love and finances into making you whole again.  You were not made whole this side of Heaven, and our hearts shattered when we heard the shocking news of your passing.

The events leading up to this day play over repeatedly in my mind, and I know I have undiagnosed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  We weren’t sure if you had underlying thorax conditions we were not aware of that contributed, but it’s purely speculation at this point by your Veterinarian and your family.

You were in the animal hospital for six days, and we received daily updates between 7 a.m. to 7:30 a.m. from your Veterinarian when he would call.  We visited with you daily as long as the staff would allow, even over the weekend when they were closed to the public.  We wanted to make sure you knew that you had not been abandoned.  It broke our hearts not to have you with us at home, but we knew you were being monitored and cared for by the medical team.  That brought us comfort until we were allowed to visit with you again the next day.  We made sure your human sister had a chance to see you and spend time with you also, although your other human sister was vacationing out of state at the time this occurred.  I hated to break the news to her, especially while on vacation, but I felt she needed to be aware of what was happening.  We needed all the prayers we could get for you, and we believe they worked up to a point.

We were so encouraged two days prior to your passing.  We – your Veterinarian, their staff, and your family – were happy to see you up, wagging your tail, and acting like yourself.   You came over to me and let me rub all over you, just like you always did.  I rubbed your head, velvety ears, all the way down your chest, both of your front legs, down your back, and on to your back legs.  You would lean slightly into me as you stood on one leg and allowed the other leg to slant as I rubbed it.  You loved the attention and affection, and it did my heart so good to do this.  I just knew in that moment that you were going to be okay.  In the back of my mind, though, I was reminded of how “they” say people and animals get better before they get worse.  I was hoping and praying with all of my might that this was not the case.  I looked into your beautiful blue eyes as I told you repeatedly that I love you, how you were such a good boy, and left that day with such peace in my heart.

Sadly, we were awakened Sunday morning with the heartbreaking news that you passed away.  Even with as matter-of-fact as your Veterinarian spoke, he also shared how shocked he was that you passed away.  Your human dad burst into tears upon hearing those words.  I sat feeling like a freight train hit me upon hearing the news.  Your Veterinarian asked if we wanted you cremated or if we would come get your body.  We opted to come get you and bury you at your home.

As your human daddy took the long drive to retrieve your body, I gathered your favorite things to be buried with you.  I wasn’t trying to erase your memory, but instead, I wanted you to “have” them with you.  It sounds silly, really, but they belonged to you.  Your bed, the rug you would sprawl out on when you were tired from running outside and needed to cool down in your room before taking your place on the couch, your microphone toy and your squirrel toy you insisted on carrying outside to “do your business,” they were all placed with you.

Your daddy drove home and began the heartbreaking task of digging your grave.

I picked out your grave marker.

We sat in silence at night on the couch wishing with all of our hearts that you were still here with us.  We would fight back tears, then finally give in to allow ourselves to feel these emotions instead of denying them.  It doesn’t mean we’re weak.  It means our love for you was — and still is — so very strong.  Our hearts hurt so much because of the deep love we have for you.  As the tears stream down our faces, we grieve for what happened, how we were not able to save you, and for the years that were cut short with you.  We had so many more years of memories to make with you, but that just was not to be.

As I placed your grave marker today, I shed tears again as I told you how sorry I was that I could not save you.  I shared how much I love you, how you were such a good boy, and how you will always be my “little tiny baby boy.”

Please meet me one day at Heaven’s gates, along with your fur sisters and fur brothers that have gone on before you.  What a sweet reunion that will be, and I will welcome all the husky fur in my face as I give you the biggest embrace.

If only love could have saved you …