Cody’s Journey: Preparing for the Death of a Pet
One of greatest joys and where I have derived the greatest sense of meaning in my life has been founded in my relationship with animals — specifically, my dogs. Meaning in life can often be equated with our sense of purpose. And caring for my dogs gives purpose to my existence because they depend on me and would not survive without my care. This same sense of purpose is founded in my relationship with my daughter. When she was much younger, she truly needed my care and guidance as she grew. She still needs her father, but in a much different way. Adults and humans are a little different from pets who always seem to need care and loving.
Recently, we received bad news concerning our last remaining canine friend, Cody. He is in the beginning stages of kidney disease — the same disease we lost Jasmine to a little over a year ago. His values are not nearly as high as Jasmine’s were (she was very sick), but we know we have limited time with him as there is little one can do to prevent the progression of chronic kidney disease in dogs.
Acute kidney disease in dogs is sometimes reversible, but Cody is 17 years old and his values have been climbing over the past six months. Given his age, his test results and the life expectancy of his breed, we realize if kidney disease does not claim his life, some other disease or illness will. This is the beginning of the end — a point we knew would come eventually.
No matter how you look at it, the body will eventually fail. Kidney disease in older dogs is simply organ failure. On a long enough timeline, an organ will fail in the body. If that doesn’t happen, cancer or Alzheimer’s will take hold. Whether we consider humans or dogs or some other animal, the body is a biological system that cannot continue forever. This is why the push to cure certain diseases always puzzles me. If we found a cure for cancer or Alzheimer’s, wouldn’t we survive only to die of something different? I understand extending life and the medical efforts surrounding that noble endeavor. But I also understand the extension of life cannot be indefinite.
Cody is a 16 year old Maltese weighing in at a hefty 7 pounds (7.5 pounds on a good day). Depending on what source you consult, the Maltese has an average lifespan of 13–15 years. Cody will be 17 in April of this year. He has, indeed, beat the odds and lived a full life.
The last year or so of his life, however, has been rough. He lost a pack member when Jasmine died. He had all of his teeth removed late this past summer because they were rotted and now has a tongue that will not stay in his mouth (much to his chagrin). He has cataracts and his eyes are not producing enough moisture necessitating a round of eye drops each day. And as I note above, he is beginning his end of life journey. You wouldn’t know any of this from looking at him. People still ask if he is a puppy. He still plays, runs, jumps, barks at anything that moves (and sometimes things that don’t move such as stationary objects) and is as frisky as ever. He’s like a little Energizer Bunny — just keeps going and going.
Cody is my “step-dog” — at least that is how I often refer to him. I came to know him when my wife and I started dating and he was just 7 years old. It was turbulent relationship at the outset. We had to introduce him to Jasmine at which point he quickly assumed the Alpha Male role regularly growling at her and “ruling the roost” (despite the fact she was 7 times larger than him). Cody’s growling and dominant nature was also extended to my wife and I. He loved to sleep at the edge of our bed and would routinely growl at us for any minor infringement on his “edge of bed territory” by our sleeping feet. In once instance, Cody even bit my toe (though not a real bite and not drawing blood).
Cody is demanding, high-spirited, ornery and downright has to be in charge. The Maltese was a dog once believed to have been owned by royalty. This seems to have carried forth to Cody as he insists on having a pillow to lay on even in his old age. Because of his spirited nature, I often call him “Little Big Dog” — a coy nod to the Dustin Hoffman film of the 70s and the Thomas Berger novel.
I also call him — or I should say “we” since my wife participates in the nickname game:
Bink, Binky, Boo Boo, Boopie, Boop, Boobie, Codester, Monkey Dog, My Little Maltese Friend, My Little Mediterranean Friend, Mook, Pinky, Poopster, Poo Poo, Scruff Monkey, Scruff, Scruffkin (a combination of scruff and munchkin), Squinkey, Squink, The Little Guy, The Moop and The Wog
While I should be embarrassed of these nicknames, I’m not. This dog has become a great love of my life over the years. It is as if when Jasmine died, my love for her was transferred to Cody — giving him double the love. But, it is a little more complicated than that.
Cody began winning my heart over many years before Jasmine died. Oddly enough, it was the very character traits making it hard to get close to him that enabled me to open my heart and eventually love him as my own. His strong will, stubborn nature and sheer persistence — while often exasperating — are just a few of the very characteristics making him so endearing. They also happen to be character traits I share. So, perhaps I also identified with the little guy.
Our relationship grew stronger over the years and the antics between Jasmine and Cody drew a good amount of laughter while also serving as the subject of much conversation. Cody loved to herd Jasmine and his short stature forced him to stand on hind legs while waving his front paws in her face — all the while growling and asserting his authority. Jasmine would routinely ignore him during these episodes. If Jasmine got to close to Cody (a small dog needs his space), he’d growl and move elsewhere.
Then there was the “7 Year Bed War” in which Cody would try to establish — out of the 4 or 5 dog beds in the house — certain beds for himself at certain points in the day. This usually seemed to be dependent on his whim. Jasmine would often be slowly bugged by Cody until she would move to another bed. This would often go on all day. In my eyes, there was a constant pack struggle going on between the two of them.
Jasmine seemed oblivious to these struggles as though she could have cared less. It would have seemed she didn’t even realize there was another dog in the house sometimes as she barely gave Cody any notice. This seemed evident by the many “tail thwacking” incidents. Jasmine had a strong and powerful tail and generally took no notice of what might be in the path of that great swinging “weapon.” Cody’s short stature often left him in the line of fire and he would often get thwacked by her tail while vying for our attention when we came home after shopping. This would result in Cody eliciting his signature growl while we would laugh…every time. Characteristic of Jasmine, she seemed to take little or no notice of these events.
My human perspective was these two could do without the other. On some level I knew this wasn’t true, but had little evidence to support this. That perspective changed last year when Jasmine became ill. Cody — the little dog who had to have the largest dog bed in the house to himself — would go over where Jasmine was laying and curl up with her on the same bed. When the glaucoma in her eye began and she was in pain, he would walk over to her and lick around her eye. (The saliva in a dog’s mouth can heal wounds and they are instinctual concerning this behavior.) I have kept videos of Cody doing this.
When Jasmine died, Cody would howl for her. We would come home and hear him inside our condo through the door. The noise he was making was something between a bark and howl of pain. He mourned for her as did we.
In the months following Jasmine’s death, I came to have certain anxieties about leaving him alone. This anxiety extends to today where I still refuse to leave him alone if at all possible. I know this is ridiculous. But, I cannot keep the feelings at bay and take this little guy everywhere I can with me. We have grown closer as a result of Jasmine dying. We have grown closer because I know my time with him is limited.
Cody isn’t dying just yet (depending on how you define dying). But, he has less time to live than he has lived. As my father so aptly put it in a recent email conversation, the majority of his life is behind him.
So what do you do when you have a dying pet — something you love so much and is such a part of your life? How do you prepare for this? Here are a few tips:
Set Aside Time to Spend with Your Pet: You have limited time with your pet, so spend those last days or months savoring that time. You might want to start this early in your pet’s younger years. Jon Katz writes in his book, Going Home, you should devote a day to your dying pet — especially if they are well enough. Take them for a special trip, get them ice cream or buy them a bag of their favorite treats. Take them for walks in that special place they love. These are days you will remember forever.
Photos and Videos: Take many. You will find comfort in these at some point after your pet passes away. You might not want to see them right away, but I promise you will pull them out eventually and likely cry while viewing them. Get them while you can.
Keepsakes: I have a tuft of Jasmine’s hair and a paw print in plaster. I keep these in a box with her lifelong leash and collar. Every once in awhile I just pull them out to hold them. They help fill the gap a little.
The Remains: Whatever your beliefs, think really hard about what you want to do with your pet’s remains. I still regret not honoring Jasmine more with some sort of ceremony. I allowed the vet clinic to send her away and still feel shamed at the thought of it. My beliefs are that the body is merely a shell and burial, cremation, etc. is just another way for the funeral industry to make money. But my feelings don’t coincide with those beliefs and they don’t erase the shame at how I handled Jasmine’s remains when she died.
Handling the grief you will undoubtedly go through is a different matter all together and I wrote about it here.
Most of these tips are common sense and you can find them in other places. And, many of the other lists write of preparing your children. Yet a more obscure topic is how do you prepare your surviving dogs or pets for this? Dogs are pack animals and regardless of the what type of pet you have (cats, hamsters, birds etc.), they have feelings and will mourn a lost member of their tribe. This is more difficult topic to find information on. Cesar Millan wrote about this topic here and here. But, this is what I did with Cody:
- I brought him with us when Jasmine was euthanized. I am not sure he really understood what had happened. But, I stayed with Jasmine for quite awhile after her death and let Cody sniff her body. Animals can smell death. So I was hoping he might understand she was gone rather than just having her magically disappear from his life.
- I didn’t leave Cody alone at all after the first night. The first night when Jasmine had died, my wife and I went out for drinks. It was a mistake. We came home to Cody howling because he had been left alone. This might not be as much of an issue if you are not left with a single dog or pet like we were. But, a single pet who was spent the majority of his life with another pack member, may notice the absence and mourn. They may not be used to being alone.
- Keep some of the deceased pet’s toys, collar and leash lying in places where your remaining pet can sniff them. This may give them comfort.
- Expect some changes in your pet’s behavior such as loss of appetite and perhaps a lethargic nature. Pets that are used to having a mate around will notice the change to their routine. This is inevitable and they will usually bounce back in time.
- Be careful with your own grieving around your pet. Animals can smell like we can read or speak. Smelling is a language to them and they will smell or sense your grief. This can feed into their mourning and cause their own process to be extended. This is easier said than done since I still believe I am grieving the loss of Jasmine — less so now than in the initial months. But, I found “happy time” with Cody even during those first days after her death.
Every pet has a different personality just as we humans do. So what works for one may not work for another. All pets will handle this process differently.
As I watch each day pass, I know I now have one less day to be with my little friend. So, I often stop and watch him on a walk or just bend down and scratch him in that spot he can’t quite reach. Sometimes I just smile at him and try to capture the moment. I know these precious moments are limited. I also know my grief for Jasmine will return when Cody passes away because so many memories of her are linked to him. It will be like an old scab that has been peeled away to expose a fresh wound.
But until that day, I know there is one more ride in the car, one more pat on the head, one more walk…until there isn’t.
