Trigger warning: death of our dog, Bella
I don’t know if I’m ready to write about Bella, or if I’ll ever really be ready. But here I am.
About four months ago, we had to euthanize our dog, Bella. We had her for almost 10 years, and I still forget sometimes that she’s not here with us anymore. I haven’t talked about her much since then, but I feel like it’s time.
I don’t care what anyone else says: she was the best dog in the world.
I still miss her so much every single day. We still haven’t moved her bed or her pillow in my office or her water bowls in the kitchen, and I don’t know if or when we will.
She was my best friend and me in animal form, and I don’t care how ridiculous that might sound.
She was the sweetest, most kind and loving animal I’ve ever known, and she made so many lives better by just being in them.
We always joked she would be the worst guard dog ever because she loved everyone right away.
She was so smart and funny and sassy, and it really pains me to say was. I wish she still is.
I know she’ll always be with us in our hearts, but I would give anything to cuddle with her one more time or read a book with her sleeping at my feet again.
She had been going through a few different health problems, and we decided along with the vet that the best thing to do would be to euthanize her. Putting her down seems like such an ugly phrase.
I’ll never forget the call with my husband when he said it was time. It was supposed to be my second day back at Ulta, and I was on my way to work. I couldn’t believe it when he told me, and I immediately started bawling. He said we had to go see her soon, so I hung up and called Ulta. I spoke to a manager through my sobbing and told her what was going on. She was very apologetic, and I drove home to take off whatever makeup was still left on my face after crying the whole way.
I was in shock and disbelief when my husband came home (he had been at work already as well). We hugged each other and sobbed, and our other dog, Riley, was very confused about what was gong on.
We drove together to the emergency animal hospital in town where she had been for the past few days. We waited in my car and called to say we had arrived. After a few minutes, someone came to get us and they escorted us into a cozy room.
We didn’t really know what to expect, and then a few minutes later, someone brought in our sweet baby Bella. She could walk, but not very well. She looked haggard, but her tail still wagged when she saw us.
My husband and I were trying to hold back tears as the vet described what was going to happen. We both just kept petting her and telling her how much we loved her.
Bella loved to be on chairs, couches, pillows, etc., and I saw her keep looking up on the leather couch in the room. I asked the vet if it would be okay if we could do it on the couch and she agreed right away.
They put an absorbent pad on the couch and my husband and I sat on either side of her. After a few minutes, the vet began the euthanizing process.
I saw Bella’s eyes flutter shut, and her heart stopped momentarily. The vet left us with her for a few minutes, and my husband and I kept petting her and telling her we loved her.
The vet came back to take her away, and we both started sobbing even more, not believing any of this was real.
The vet came back with ink prints of Bella’s paws, and she said we’d receive a clay imprint within a few weeks. We drove home in a fog, and I honestly don’t remember what happened the rest of the day.
About two weeks later, we went back to the emergency animal hospital to get Bella’s ashes and her clay paw print.
She loved to lay in the sunshine in the library with me, so at first we put her paw print on one of her blankets on the ottoman with the blinds open so the sun shined right on everything.
Eventually we put her paw print, favorite pillow, leash, favorite toy, ashes and cards from her vet to a different spot in the library, where it all still is now.
I still forget sometimes, when I get home and don’t see her greeting me at the door. Her lack of presence has been very profound in our lives, and even though she was the quietest little doggy, her personality and love were huge.
The rest of this post includes what I typed into my Notes app on my phone a few days after she passed away, my unedited and raw thoughts about sweet, sweet Bella:
She loved water. She loved ice cubes. She loved snow. She loved everyone. Bella was everything to me, my soul animal. She was the best dog I’ll ever have in my life.
The sun was shining and the wind died down after we left the vet. We took that as a good sign that she was at peace.
It was very quick and the vet said it was painless for her. I could tell she wanted to go up on the couch in the room, so Josh lifted her up there and that’s where she passed away: lying down on the couch, with her mommy and daddy right beside her, petting and loving her.
It still doesn’t feel real. It has to be a joke, right? I wish it was. We had her for almost 10 years. My husband got her a month before we started dating, so in April 2011. His profile picture on OkCupid at the time was of him and Bella. She brought us together. She was our baby for almost 10 years.
She still had some life in her when we saw her, but we could tell she was so tired and worn out. It was time. But we both really wished it wasn’t.
We were both in the room the whole time. It was hard but also easy at the same time. We kept petting her, even after the vet said her heart had stopped. Even typing that doesn’t feel real. But it is.
She was my reading buddy, our sassy teenager, our baby who was around 12 years old. It was her house and we were just living in it. That’s still true.
It’s hard to see all her napping spots empty around the house. Her brother Riley keeps looking around for her. We do too.
Fuck this sucks. She was closer than family. She brought us all together and made us a family.
