5/7/2024 

Trigger warning: Loss/Grief.

Two weeks ago today, we lost what feels like a vital part of my heart and soul.

Twiggy was diagnosed with chronic kidney disease in December of 2022 after an acute kidney event. (You may have noticed, but I fell off of regular social media posting at this time and haven’t published anything since, even though I’ve written 2.5 books.)

That December, Twiggy spent 1 week in the doggie ER. We brought her home and followed protocols which got her kidney levels down to stage 2. This included feeding her 4 small homemade meals a day, giving her subcutaneous fluids 3 X a week, and medications. I don’t have kids and she was our dog child, so this wasn’t a problem. We lived this way until a little over a month ago when her eating became more finicky. Usually a bad sign.

We brought her to the vet here in TCI. Unbelievably, she was still playing ball and going outside to lay in the sun—she handled her disease uncommonly well. The vet couldn’t believe how physically robust she was clinically, but her numbers were in crisis again. The vet said we might be able to bounce back again from the crisis. But we couldn’t get her numbers down fast enough. She sustained some neurological damage and developed a significant heart murmur. The vet tech (because that morning our vet got a concussion and was out—I can’t make this shit up) sent us home with numbers going down on Friday and a pharmacy.

Sadly, Twiggy wasn’t herself. She still wagged her tail and let us give her belly rubs, but she was weak. The vet said she might perk up after a few days’ stay in the vet, yet we weren’t hopeful at this point—we know our dog. She physically deteriorated quickly with fluid retention in her legs. She became wobbly and would occasionally become dazed. We had a safe medication for pain from a previous dental procedure and got permission from the vet to administer it for her comfort. We held and petted her all weekend.

We got a private ride to the main island on Tuesday. It was probably the most horrible thing I’ve ever experienced and the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, and I’m someone who’s done some difficult things. To watch the life leave the eyes of someone you love so much, the finality of that moment was wild. I knew the moment she was gone and could feel her energy in the room with us after. It was also awe-inspiring in a strange sort of way.

I’m sure it was the right decision and with how quickly she deteriorated, it wasn’t a moment too soon or too late.

She gave us nibbles on the boat ride over and I felt that was her way of telling us goodbye. Now, we are stuck in the after without her. I grieve the loss of hope for the future. Of beach walks we’ll never have. Of years I feel robbed of. Of a little creature in my lab demanding belly rubs. Of her howling when we’re not in the same room with her in protest. Of her chasing the ball like a maniac. Of all the unique, unreplaceable qualities that made her Twiggy.

Now my little furry sprite is energy floating around the ether and it fucking sucks. I try to think of her energy being free, but I’m a selfish person. I want it for myself.

It’s a funny thing to sit in the after of loss. She was such a good patient, letting us stick her with a needle every couple of days and cram pills down her throat. After the first hospital stay, we would even sit on the floor and hand feed her to encourage her to eat. (Eventually, when she stabilized, she ate on her own.)

I learned things about dealing with a loved one with a chronic illness. How draining it is for everyone, including the caretakers. How hypervigilant one is for every little change or twitch. This gave me a deeper empathy for parents with sick children. I can’t imagine watching someone you birthed go through this and feeling so helpless and worried. (If at this point, you have the urge to tell me ‘it’s just a dog’ or any sentiment like that, please stop reading. No worries. It is only that we are different people, and my words and experience aren’t for you.)

Max and I used to take 4 nice trips a year, and during that year and a half of her illness, we traveled once for a week while my brother-in-law doggy-sat and took her to the vet for her treatments. It was a large burden to ask of our normal doggy sitter. Now, granted, we moved to a vacation destination, but when one does something like that, it takes the rose-colored glasses off and the place isn’t as dreamy as it was before. (This is a whole other blog post, and definitely not a negative thing.) But it felt like our world got put on hold so we could take care of her, something we never resented.

Then there is the odd relief one feels at the passing. And the guilt which I’m sane enough to not take too seriously. Still, such mixed feelings float through my mind. I see them, acknowledge them, then let them drift out.

I know we gave her an amazing life, and she gave us amazing companionship. I miss her like crazy and am probably done cursing the Universe. I’m slowly finding gratitude and acceptance. Even as I write this with tears streaking down my face.

On the bright side, while we can’t emotionally manage a ball game with Costa since that was Twiggy’s thing which Costa only went along with it, we are taking a long beach walk every day. Beach—a word Costa now recognizes and is excited for. So, every day Costa gets a beach walk just for her. She chases waves and finds her favorite sponges to roll around on and carry down the beach. Such a weirdo. Watching her play eases some of the pain in my heart.

I’ve said ever since this illness began that I’ll never have another dog again. I regularly told Twiggy and Costa that they should be honored that they are the two dogs of my lifetime. I just love them too much. Probably a good thing I never had kids—I’d be an absolute psycho helicopter parent.

Well, if you made it this far, thank you for listening. And if you’ve seen me in public crying, thank you for not giving me strange looks. Or at least hiding them behind my back.

These are the first words I’ve written in three weeks and it feels good to type again. I’m ready to get back to creating with the Universe and playing with my characters. Even editing—imagine that!

With that, I will leave these thoughts out in the Universe. Please, everyone, be gentle with yourselves and take care.

Love and light friends. <3 Jen