I first heard of Dr. Kevorkian during the first of his highly publicized murder trials in the mid 1990s. I was twenty years old and uncompromising. What he did was wrong, inexcusable. I could only see it from my perspective as a young, seemingly immortal girl who saw illness and age as a concept. Think of the families, I argued. I was positive they would want to spend every last minute with their loved ones, and this guy was taking matters into his own hands. It isn’t right to play God, I said.
My father had a different perspective, one formed by experience and a familiarity with death.
He did his internal medicine residency in 1970s New York. It’s where he did his first lumbar puncture, an abysmal failure that ended prematurely with a screaming patient running down the hallway as the spinal needle bumping wildly against his exposed backside. It’s where two drunk fraternity brothers pulled up to the emergency room doors and rolled their unconscious friend into the snow before racing out of the parking lot. It’s where a woman in the final stages of cancer showed up emaciated and with unmanageable pain. Her screams filled the emergency room. She begged the attending physician to take her out of her misery. It’s where he heard someone plead for death for the first time.
She was a regular who was coming in more often as she approached the end. Her pain was a near constant thing, and she was tired. My dad assumed his role as resident and started reciting to his attending the patient history, prognosis, treatment. He was anxious to help this woman. Her screams were awful.
His attending turned to him and with a dismissive wave of his hand said, “I’m thirsty. Go to the cafeteria and bring me a coke.”
My dad was stunned, and maybe a little belligerent. After so many years of study and sacrifice, his attending–with whom he thought he had a good relationship–was placing drink orders and treating him like a candy striper. They had a nonverbal, motionless standoff that ended with the attending saying over the din of screams, “I told you get me a coke. Don’t make me ask you again.”
So that’s what my dad did, walking out of the emergency room and towards the cafeteria dozens of yards away from all the action, all because his attending wanted his soda in a cup with ice.
When he returned, the emergency room was quiet, or at least the patient was no longer screaming. My dad went to her bed, curious to see what combination of medication they used this time. Instead, he found the attending charting his notes. The patient had expired while he was in the cafeteria.
“What happened?” he asked. “She was fine when I left.”
“She wasn’t fine,” his attending replied. “She was dying and in an incredible amount of pain. You just didn’t realize it.”
My dad looked around to see if anyone else was losing his mind along with him. No, everyone seemed fine; no one seemed scared or shocked or even curious. Later, he looked at the chart. Everything seemed in order. When he asked, no one had much to say, other than the patient died after a long battle with cancer. To this day, he doesn’t know what happened when he left to get the coke, “But,” he says, “I know I didn’t know crap about what it meant to be a doctor.”
He didn’t agree with everything Dr. Kevorkian stood for, but he did say that if he was ever diagnosed with a terminal illness, he wanted to go out like a dog: peacefully.
Buster responded well to steroids for the first few days, but by the 6th day we were back to coaxing him to eat. He was always close to me, laying at my feet and following me around the house. When the Mister was out of town, he always slept with me. Last week, he didn’t want to sleep with me. He wanted to be by himself or, on the one day it was cold, huddled up against Buddy.
On Saturday he refused to eat breakfast and later woke up from a nap panting. I walked into the kitchen to see if I could tempt him with people food while I called the vet. He followed me with his head down, still panting. I knew.
I went outside and told the Mister, who was clipping roses. We agreed he would take Buster to the vet while I ran errands with the boys because of the probable outcome. I yelled at him for clipping the roses all wrong and then he clipped three more roses as if each long stem was my neck.
An x-ray of Buster’s abdomen showed a mass in his stomach larger than a baseball. It was one of the largest masses they have seen in their practice, and this mass along with his bladder and his age…
There have been many times over the last 4 weeks that I felt silly getting so worked up over a pet when there are people watching human loved ones suffer from a terminal disease. I understand all this is trivial when compared to that, and if it was between my boys and my dogs, there wouldn’t be a choice. I get it. I get it, but I can’t help it. “I’m not fat,” I joked to the Mister last week before Buster got so sick. “This is just my really big heart leaking into my extremities.”
I wouldn’t wish the loss of a beloved pet on children, but I’m so happy I got a glimpse of the compassionate men Mikey and Nico will one day become. They took care of Buster without complaint. They fed him by hand and cuddled with him constantly when he would allow it. They got up from the couch a million times a day to let him out to go to the bathroom and gave him cookies when they thought I wasn’t looking. They prayed for him relentlessly.
If there is a silver lining, that is it.
The last picture of Buster. It’s an unstaged picture of Mikey saying goodbye to Buster before he got in the car to go to the vet. Mikey had no idea what was going to happen, of course, but I did.
On Saturday I cried so much that I got a terrible migraine. On Sunday, I cried when I allowed myself to think about Buster. I’m sad, but I know we did the right thing and I’m happy we let him go out like a dog: peacefully.
Hazel says
Oh Jules, I’m so sorry. We had to make that decision with our lovely dog Olly a few years ago, and knowing it’s the right thing to do doesn’t make it easier.
And I don’t know how anybody could not get upset about an animal who has been a part of their lives- family- for so long. It’s not a loss of perspective.
I’m rushing off to work now, but I’m thinking of you all, including Buddy who must be missing his friend.
Suzanne says
Peace be with you and your family. These are sad times.
Jade @ Tasting Grace says
I’m in tears over here. I knew where this was going before I even opened it, and still, I am in tears. I’m so sorry for your loss, and it’s not silly at all to get worked up over a pet. They’re members of the family, they have feelings, and I’m absolutely sure they can love. For certain, they are loved. It’s a tough decision to make, but sounds like it was the best way. Thinking of you and your family, and hope the boys are weathering the loss okay.
Carrie @ Busy Nothings says
Oh Jules, I’m so very sorry. Dogs are very much a part of the family, and they need to be remembered and grieved over.
With four siblings at least 13 years or more older than me, when my parents got me a golden retriever puppy just before I turned 7, I was in heaven. While my siblings were away at college and starting their careers, she and I did everything together. When I was sad or angry or scared – I talked to her while stroking her head. I defended her when she got the unnecessary brunt of a family member’s anger.
Eventually I grew up, went to college, and got married. My dog stayed with my parents – who also loved her, though they didn’t realize how much until she was gone. One day, shortly after my college graduation and her 14th birthday, my dad came to me to let me know she had died on their front porch. I was 21. I told him I was fine, but I cried all the way home. I cried all afternoon. I cried all weekend. I cried when I went to my parent’s house and my mom started crying when she handed me the dog’s collar. Shoot… more than 12 years later and I’m crying now while thinking about her – about your family.
God knew what He was doing when He created man’s best friend. Prayers for you and your family.
Southern Gal says
It’s such a hard thing to say goodbye to a beloved pet. I have had to do it twice in my life. I hope the pain will ease and you will be able to look back on those years with Buster and smile without tears.
Kylie says
Oh my it’s so hard to let them go. I’m glad he has found peace and his suffering has ended. I dread the day our two dogs pass on and I have to tell my kids. Hugs to you all.
Corrin says
Aw. RIP Buster. It sounds like he had much love, especially in his final days.
I get truly upset at the thought of being without any of the pets in our family. We had a scare with my parents dog at Thanksgiving. My parents had flown from Chicago to Austin to fly the rest of the way to Mexico with me. The doggie hotel called to tell us that 12-year old Floyd had a seizure just as we were boarding our flight. It resulted in my mom and I crying the entire flight and my dad offering to fly home. He’s doing okay now, but it reminds me that I really need to book a flight home to visit.
Robin says
I’m so very sorry about Buster and the heartache you and your family are experiencing. You’ve already learned some beautiful lessons from Buster – about the compassionate men your boys will be and you’ve shared such an insightful lesson from your father’s medical training that has so many levels to it, but especially for a “parent” of an ailing cherished pet … thanks for that, I found comfort in it and I’m still seeking solace some 8 weeks after saying good-bye to our Beaver. A lovely quote from an article on grief I read is “Grief is a good teacher. It arrives with loss and remains faithful until we have absorbed its lessons.” One of the lessons I’ve learned is to not “qualify” the source of love and connection … when there’s real love then there’s a true experience of loss and heartache when they’re gone. I’m so sorry for your loss. And if anyone says “… you’ll be OK, he was (just) a dog …” well then you learned something about them.
Amy says
Oh, geez . . . this post! It’s hard to say goodbye to our most faithful of friends, to those who hold our hearts–whether they are human matters not.
Needless to say, much love and many prayers to you all . . .
Kathy says
It’s a beautiful picture. Be at peace, Buster. I am sorry for your family’s loss.
Christina says
You made the right decision . We have had many pets both cats and dogs we’ve sent on to the great beyond. It’s very sad to see our friends go. But, to watch them suffer as long as there’s an option I think is wrong. We lost our dear Tucker at Christmas. He was a 14 year old wonderful cat. I miss him.
Be at peace with it and it’s okay to feel sad for a long time.
Missie says
Beautiful picture. Hugs to you and your family. I’m sure Buddy will have a hard time too. :(
Teresa says
I’m so sorry. My thoughts are with you and your family.
t says
So sorry for you and your family; you gave Buster a wonderful home and a peaceful, compassionate, and loving end to his life.
Sandy says
I am so sorry for your loss. Buster was a part of your family and his loss will be felt for a long time. A few years ago I had to put my 17 year old cat down….he had been part of the family for so long I didn’t know how to be an adult without him. He helped me through the death of my father, my divorce, moving across the country from family and friends, and picking up my life and starting over. Harry was my constant companion. Pets are the most faithful friends ever and I believe somewhere Buster will be waiting for you on the other side. Peace and blessings to your family.
Erin @ FierceBeagle says
Oh, Buster. I’m so sorry Jules. For your boys, too. :(
Rita@thissortaoldlife says
Oh, that photo. Was holding it together until then. Don’t think there is any need to qualify or quantify grief. All deaths of beings we love rocks us–as you note so eloquently, they help us grow. And growing almost always comes with pains. Hope you get an easy day today.
Kate B says
Moved to tears over your beautiful rememberance. I hope that you and your family find peace and healing with time. Much love to you all.
Zak says
You wrote the hell out of this.
Godspeed, Buster.
Olivia B says
I’m so very sorry for your loss. My sincere condolences to you and your family. I definitely shed a few tears.
Susan G says
Much love to all of you. Pets are such a blessing in our lives. Without knowing it they give so much more to our lives than we could ever give to theirs – the opportunity to love, to play, to be responsible, to be compassionate, and – when the time comes – to be strong and have faith you are doing the right thing. Buster clearly gave all this to you and your family many times over. Again – my love to you, the Mister, Mikey, Nico, and to Buddy.
Kate says
I am so very sorry for your loss, Jules. Love to you and your sweet boys.
Danielle says
I’m so, so sorry about your pup. I hope I have the strength to let mine go when the time is right. My thoughts are with you and your family.
Kellee says
I’m so sorry to hear this. Sending much love to you and your family (two- and four-legged).
HeatherL says
So sorry for your loss. That was beautifully written.
Janine says
I am so sorry for your loss, I truly truly am.
My thoughts are with you and your family.
Alicia says
I am so so sorry for your loss. It is not trivial, he was a part of your family and meant something to you and your boys. It is never easy to lose a pet, but it sounds like he enjoyed his life to the end.
Phaedra says
Loss is not trivial. Don’t apologize for caring. This post made me cry, but most of all it made me want to reach out and give you a big hug. (I’ve cried so hard that I’ve given myself a migraine before- I KNOW how hard that is!) It might be odd to say that I’m sending you and your family love, because I don’t know you IRL, but I’m sending the happiest and most positive prayers that you can get through the grief and keep all the great memories of your beloved family member. (who just so happened to be a dog). Beautifully written post. Thank you for always keeping this so real.
Amy Loves Teal says
I’m so sorry for the loss you and your family are experiencing. Don’t feel a bit guilty about loving and missing a dog so much. Animal spirits are not any less worthy of love and grief than human spirits are. You made Buster a good an happy life and I’m sure he was sad to leave you, too.
Elaine says
I am in tears right now reading this. I’m so sorry for your loss. What a beautiful gift he was to your family, and your family to him.
Jeanne says
it’s lunch time for me at work and I am eating my salad and crying over this beautiful post. Buster was beautiful and I am so sorry for your loss. I hope your boys are handling it as best they can. You gave him a great life of love. Hang in there. . . .
yj says
Sending you hugs and thoughts and much love. It’s so hard to let them go, but they really tell you when they’re ready, don’t they?
Naomi says
I remember a day just like this 6 years ago. It is a crushing heartbreak.
Kat in Canada says
Oh, man. It’s not ridiculous to respond this way- he’s a family member. Period. He loved you, and you loved him, and this is how you act when someone you love leaves this earth. My husband’s family put down their family dog over a decade ago, and he still talks about how they sat in the backyard with her, under her favourite tree, hand feeding her a perfectly cooked steak, and how happy she looked to be surrounded by the people she loved. He said that, despite how hard it was to watch her fall asleep that last time, he feels blessed that they were able to make that decision- to let her go, peacefully and quietly and surrounded by love. We should all be so lucky.
You are so blessed to have found each other. An animal adds to a family in a way that no human can replicate.
Sleep well, Buster. Take care, Jules.
keapdx says
Oh…….. so very sorry. I hope it helps to know that a lot of folks out here share your sadness.
Shaina says
Buster had the best family a dog could ask for. You gave him a great life and lots of love, which he freely returned. Mikey will love having that picture when he’s older. We never forget our pets, but the first one we lose will forever be a part of our childhood memories.
Thank you for sharing this moment with us.
Heather P. says
Thank you for sharing with all of us. Buster had a long, happy life with you guys, and letting him go peacefully was the best thing you could have done for him.
Hopefully everyone is doing well, and your boys will carry happy memories of their beloved dog through their lives, and the hard lesson that sometimes, it’s better to let go. :-)
Julie says
I really feel for you and send my love. My heart was in bits last week after our adored cat Basil was knocked over and killed. Our companion animals are part of our family. Buster was a lucky dog to live with you all xxx
Monica says
I read your post this morning and have been thinking about it all day. I am deeply sorry for the loss that you and your family have suffered. Buster had an important place within your family and your mourning honors this. I hope your boys are doing okay. Take care, Jules
Kathy says
Sending prayers for peace to you and your family!!!! You did exactly what we did for our dog. Loving care but no pain for him. I think that is the best show of love that we can give our pets.
Kim from Philadelphia says
I’m so sorry about Buster. His sweet little soul is at peace.
Lily O. says
This post made me cry. My dog died last year and I’m still so sad about it, I don’t think I’ll ever get another dog. I’m in the same boat as you, I think, in knowing that I’d pick a human over a dog, but dogs are such pure, selfless, loving creatures that their passing seems a huge injustice. They deserve longer lives. An amazing dog like Buster deserves to be mourned.
Little Gray Pixel says
I am so very sorry for your loss. Hugs through the Internet.
This post is so undeniably beautiful and so thoughtfully written. The story about the woman in the hospital brought me to tears, even before I got to the part about Buster.
Karen F says
I am so, so sorry Jules.
Debbie says
I am in tears over the loss of your sweet dog. I am so sorry.
Kate says
I almost didn’t read this post when I saw the first picture, I knew I’d end up in tears. But I’m glad I did. You WROTE it.
And loss is loss, yours is valid. I have never seen anyone break down the way my husband did after we had to put down our (and his very) first dog – sometimes, their love is even better the people love. Tears that turn into migraines can be the very worst. BUT I hope you are feeling better today and will be able to look back at all the wonderful moments Buster has brought to your family. Hugs & love.
Dusa says
I can say nothing that hasn’t already been said by these eloquent comments. I’m so sorry for you and your family. I know Mikey will be so happy to have that picture to remember Buster.
Amy says
Incredible post…so much wisdom. I agree with Kate loss is loss no matter what. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.
snapdragon says
Oh… so sorry for your loss. I had to do this with my first dog. The vet let me hold him until his heart stopped beating and it was the saddest, sweetest moment of my life. Take care.
Pat T says
So sorry for your family’s loss, Jules. The loss
Of a loved one, furry or not, is so very sad. We lost
Our dog, Moose, quickly -he took a sudden turn
One day, I woke the kids to say goodbye just in case he didn’t
Make it to the vet. He passed that night. I had lost a dear friend a few weeks
Before, and a cousin a few weeks later, yet I mourned
The most for our Moose. I remember asking my
Husband what kind of person I was that cried more
For our dog. In retrospect it was likely the culmination
Of all 3 losses, but our dog was family, in our lives
On a daily basis. Our cat actually used to lay by moose’s
Ashes and wouldn’t eat it clean herself right after moose died. She was fine, and
I know it’s weird to say but I think she was mourning too. I know I sound like a goof, really I’m not! This was so beautifully written it brought tears to my eyes. I wish you and your family peace in this
Time of sorrow.
LauraC says
Oh, reading this so belatedly, blinded by tears. I am so, so, sorry that you and your family have to go through this loss. Thank you for sharing it with us. Don’t feel bad when you hurt for a loved animal. I believe God understands. My childhood dog died (at home, aged 16.5) on a Sunday morning. My parents and I went to church, even though we didn’t really want to because the only other option was to sit home and cry. So we went, and I cried the whole service, sitting behind two ladies who had recently lost their husband and father. I felt so guilty with my tears and grief when I knew they had lost so much more. But now, years removed, I don’t feel guilty. I knew their loss was greater and more meaningful, but my loss was also real. God understands and comforts us all. I will pray for you all tonight.
Kelly says
Oh Jules. Such a beautiful last photo, such a beautifully written post. I’m sorry for all the sadness, worry and fear of the last few weeks and now, the grief. I’ll be thinking of you & your family tonight.
Marika says
My heart is with you and your family.
Susan G says
I wanted to come back to say that I’ve been thinking about the boys especially and hoping they are OK (whatever that means). I showed my husband the picture of Mikey and Buster last night, explaining that Mikey didn’t really know what was happening, etc. He looked at the picture and said “Oh – he knew.” I forget sometimes how wise children can be – how they feel things and know things in their hearts in a way we lose as we “mature.” Continued blessings to all of you.
Lisa says
So sorry for your loss. It sounds as though you are caring for everyone very well.
Nan says
I am so very sorry for your loss. Having been there, done that, I can only say that it’s the worst. There is just something so-beyond-words about the loss of a beloved dog. Time. That’s the only thing that will lessen the sadness. That and all the happy memories. We’ll be thinking of you and your family.
Kristin says
Oh, I am so sorry. I’ll be thinking of you and your family.
Rachel (heart of light) says
<3 <3 <3 <3
Lauren says
I’m so sorry for your loss. Please be gentle with yourself – there is a lot of suffering in the world, but that doesn’t make your grief any less worthy or merited. It sounds like he was a well-loved member of your family.
Amy says
God bless you, Jules.
Katie says
So sorry to hear about your loss. I know how hard it is to let our beloved four legged friends go. Hugs to you all.
Amanda B says
I’m so sorry for your loss. I think most who have a pet can understand where your feelings are coming from. I’ll be praying for you and your family and hugging my doggy tonight.
Jennifer says
I am sorry for you and your family’s loss. Thank you for sharing with us. You are brave to lay it all on the table (again and again!) and let us in.
Sending good thoughts your way.
Fee says
Such a moving post. Hugs to all of you. You will have such beautiful memories of Buster. Remember all the fun (and mischievious!) times that you had with him.
Ailsa says
In this time of sadness, you are still so blessed. A loving pair of boys (who in no small way I’m sure were responding to your grief by showering compassion on Buddy), a strong man for a husband (I’m sure he cried a million tears while at the vets) and a huge community of readers who understand completely about what this kind of loss means.
You honoured Buster’s life and memory with this post, especially the way you enveloped it in the experience of your father. I’m sure you know that taking away Buster’s pain was the biggest gift you could give him — when he needed you most, you were there. We say on the lymphoma list (where I have belonged for three years) that when we make this decision, this most compassionate decision, we are taking away our beloved dog’s pain and it becomes our own. I guess there is a religious analogy there, but all I know is that they completely rely on us and it is part of our unwritten contract with them: they will shower us with affection, companionship and loyalty and we promise to give them a peaceful passing. But we will miss them always. You did good Jules. I don’t believe anyone would judge you. The tears are a reminder of what Buster meant to you and your family. Let them flow.
Ani says
I’m so, so sorry. I’m crying as I’m looking at your photos, with Heidi, our Havanese, under my feet. Never knew the love of a dog until Heidi and now I get so upset just thinking that someday she’ll be gone. She’s not yet 6 but I can’t help thinking about it. Your Buster was precious. And poor Buddy must be so sad. Must have been hard to write this post. Best to you.
Michellejeanne says
I am so sorry – I am crying as I read this, and I am sorry about your migraine. But… what a lovely life and family Buster had. What a wonderful family.
Don’t compare your pain to another persons, ok?