My darling Pops
My darling Pops.
I don’t know why I’m writing this, but I felt that I need to. Pops has featured on this blog since it all started in 2019, and (along with Puggy) is the reason I started it, so it felt right to feature her one last time and shine a spotlight on the gut-wrenching pain of losing your heart dog.
Now I love all my dogs to point of obsession. But I think everyone knew that Pops, my senior rescue sausage was my favourite.
The term “heart dog” always resonated with me as I’ve never had a connection like it. Pops was my muse, my best friend, my purpose and my baby all wrapped into the cutest little package, and I treasured her since the day I rescued her almost 11 years ago.
She was my first dog, my first responsibility and my first love, and we made so many beautiful memories together. We were Inseparable and although we never spoke the same language, she knew me better than anyone.
People would warn me that I was too close to her and that she would break my heart one day, but I never listened and I’m so glad I loved her like a child and I’m certain she knew how precious she was to me.
But with great big love like this came a dark side and I feared losing her from the moment she became my responsibility. I could barely cope with the thought of her passing, and my biggest love was also my biggest fear.
I remember having a conversation about this with my dog groomer once, how my anxiety of losing Pops was often too much to bear. She told me to stop mourning her prematurely and enjoy every moment. But I think I was subconsciously preparing myself for the worst day of my life. What I know now is that nothing could have prepared me for this loss. However terrible I imagined it to be, the reality is so much worse.
The day Pops passed was totally normal. She woke up, ate her breakkie, mooched around the garden and even barked at the postman, then settled into her squishy kitchen bed with my two youngest dogs who she adored. A few minutes later she was unresponsive.
She drifted away so peacefully of old age during a nap in the sunshine. I couldn’t have asked for a gentler sunset for her, but I still feel so robbed. My husband and I knew she had gone the moment we saw her, but we rushed her to the vet to hope a miracle could be performed.
My husband and I aren’t religious or spiritual really. But in that moment, we were both screaming, shouting at her hoping she could still hear us as we declared our love and begged her to come back. It’s all blurry but I remember shouting “thank you and I love you” as loud as I could in hope that she could hear me as she was passing or that her soul was still around and she would come back. Of course, our lovely vet confirmed the worst news imaginable but allowed us to sit with Pops for hours until we were “ready” to hand her over.
It’s been 3 months, and I don’t feel any lighter. The only thing that brings me the slightest bit of peace is my other dogs and my partner and if it wasn’t for them, I don’t think I would even get out of bed.
I feel guilty if my mind drifts to anything but pops, and I cannot bear the thought of doing anything in the future without her. I didn’t even want to wash my hair or shower for days as I hated thought of washing her off me. Even cleaning the house felt wrong and I wanted every last trace of her to remain.
Time has stood still and whizzed by all at once. I still forget and reach for her on the sofa, and I frequently grab 5 treats from a bag instead of 4. When a stranger innocently asked me how many dogs I have, I started crying hysterically and the unpredictability of breakdowns is very hard to navigate.
It’s making me question everything about life after death as I hate the thought of her waiting for me or trotting over a rainbow bridge alone. Everyone has their beliefs and ideals, and nobody is wrong but I was so lost searching for mine. I know pops and I know she wouldn’t ever leave me and not knowing where she is or how she is feeling eats me alive. Is her energy still floating around us, is she a cute little ghost dog wondering around the house? Does she understand what has happened or does she think I’ve left her? it’s questions I know I’ll never find the answer to, but I’m so unsettled by it all. I was responsible for this tiny little diva for over ten years, constantly aware of her and tending to her needs and I’m finding it impossible to not be responsible for her.
Although the loss is profound and I don’t think I will ever be the same again, week by week, it feels lighter and slightly less raw. Stepping into a new year feels exceptionally hard as that means “I lost Pops last year”, and she feels further away which makes me so deeply uncomfortable.
Week one was a blur, I barely slept, I couldn’t eat and I was unable to string a sentence together. But as time goes by, I’m able to smile and laugh about her and I get lost for hours looking at photographs and videos of our time together.
Life goes on, it absolutely does, but it’s different now. I have happy moments and ‘good days’ and I’m able to focus on other things, but I always drift back to Pops, which I think will forever be my happy place.
I wish I could offer some advice that would help others going through this, but the truth is, I can’t. The loss is heavy and it’s rough, and just when I catch my breath another wave of grief takes me under.
My new normal is still beautiful, I have four healthy dogs, a wonderful husband and a comfortable life but even when I do manage to find happy moments, there’s always a nagging feeling that something is missing.
I guess what I’m trying to say is enjoy every moment and don’t grieve them too early to try to protect your heart, because it’s going to shatter either way. However, many photos and videos you get of your dog will never be enough, savour every moment and be part of every celebration. Get involved in the photos together and take all the damn selfies you can!
You are not alone – sometimes the grief feels so heavy and thick that I cannot even fathom other people have been through this, but they have, and they are and they will. I’ve been connecting with family, friends and even strangers on Instagram and it has genuinely softened the pain. Other people’s views on death and healing have been interesting and thought provoking, even if their beliefs don’t align with mine, it brings great comfort.
My other advice is to consider whether you would like a cremation or burial before it gets to crunch time. It’s something I had never even thought about but was a rabbit in the headlights when my vet asked me. You aren’t thinking straight in these moments and I’m so glad my husband pressed to have some fur clipped and a cast made of her paw prints, as these are things I now treasure and won’t ever get the chance to do again.
I struggled with being without Pops, and wanted her to be with me, so we decided to enlist the help of a diamond lab who are transforming some of her fur and ashes into a diamond ring so she will always be with me. Although it takes 6 months to create, I feel as though there is something for me to look forward to and it soothes me knowing part of her will soon be coming everywhere with me, just like before.
No matter how you chose to grieve or memorialise, its ok. There is no right or wrong and everyone is different.
Sure, some people will think pops was “just a dog” but she was sassy, wise, classy and brilliant with a wicked sense of humour and two soul mates connect, it’s a force of nature.
Pops grew and shaped me from my mid-twenties. from two city girls living paycheck to paycheck, cycling around east London, this beautiful dog has been my soulmate from the moment we met and I even met my husband because of her.
I peaked too soon with finding my soul dog, and pops has set the bar impossibly high, but having other dogs in the household has been so therapeutic as I still need to show up for them and help them through their grief too. I adore them and I it’s brings me peace knowing that they will have learned behaviours and habits from Pops which will live on and never fail to make me smile, even the naughty ones.
The ironic thing is, people have always thanked me for “saving” pops when I rescued her all those years ago, but the truth is, she’s the one who rescued me.
I just miss her. I always will, and that’s ok.
