⚠️ Content Warning:
This post discusses pet loss, euthanasia, and grief. Please take care of your heart before reading. If you’re not in a place to handle that right now, it’s okay- come back when you can, if you can. Grief is heavy, and pet loss is one of the hardest kinds of love we ever face.
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This morning, we said goodbye to our sweet Bear.
He’d been slowing down for a while, and though the prednisone, gabapentin, and methocarbamol did what they could, they gave us time but, it was time. We made the hardest decision any pet parent ever has to make- but also the kindest. Bear deserved peace, comfort, and rest after giving us over a decade of unconditional love.
He was our grumpy old man, our fence guardian, our couch companion, our teddy bear doggie. My little Scooby-Doo dog. He’s seen us through so many chapters of life- every laugh, every tear, every sleepless night, every cozy afternoon nap.
When we first met him, he wasn’t even the dog we went to see. We’d gone to meet a husky and a German shepherd, and somehow, we came home with this long-bodied little mutt with soulful eyes and a stubborn streak a mile wide. I remember making the Charlie Brown joke:
“I wanted a German Shepherd or a Husky… I got a rock.”
But that rock turned out to be exactly what we needed- steady, solid, dependable. The kind of rock that holds the whole house together. Or lays the foundation of a family.
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Now, as the house grows quieter without him, I’m trying to take comfort in knowing he’s at peace. Bear was laid to rest here on our land, surrounded by the home and the people he loved best. Even in death, he’s still with us- guarding the fence line in spirit, keeping watch over us, and Luna, and soaking up the sunshine from his favorite spots.
We made a salt dough mold of his paw yesterday- a small, imperfect little keepsake to hold onto in the years to come. A way to feel the weight of him still with us, even when the couch feels too empty.
I know I’d like to picture him running free again, no pain, no stiffness, no pills. Tail wagging, ears flopping, nose full of every good smell the world has to offer. I like to think he’s found my mother, my grandmother, and all the pets that came before him- a familiar pack waiting just beyond the rainbow bridge, ready to welcome him home. Yoda, Lady, and Rex, all welcoming him with open arms, wagging tails and wet noses.
Luna has been quieter, looking for her big brother- her grumpy mentor, her partner in bark patrol, the dog who tolerated her chaos and loved her anyway. We’ll all be missing our anchor, our snoring background music, our little piece of living comfort. But Bear will always be part of our story. The old man who taught us that love doesn’t need to be loud- sometimes, it can be steady, sleepy, and absolutely certain.
Goodnight, my little old man.
Rest well, my little teddy bear doggie. You’ve earned your peace. Thank you for waiting to see that we were mostly okay after the accident until you went, you will never be forgotten.
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💬 A Note to Readers:
Comments are welcome, but please be gentle- we’re grieving. Hug your pets a little tighter tonight. Give them an extra treat. And if you’ve walked this road before, know that my heart is with you.
Until we meet again, my sweet Koda Bear- over the rainbow bridge, in the sunshine, right where you belong. 🌻
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Cryptid Thoughts:
Love doesn’t end when breath does. It lingers in pawprints pressed into earth, in quiet mornings that still feel shared, in the way the light hits an empty couch cushion. Some spirits never truly leave- they just wait for us in softer places.
-Sky, The Crippled Cryptid
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