It’s difficult, isn’t it? To get back into the swing of things once something happens that knocks the wind out of you?
Since last week, we’ve been adjusting to this new normal in our lives, and tending to a dog who has a lot of special needs while she heals and adapts. It takes extra time in the morning to give her medicine, take her outside, and feed her breakfast. She can’t easily bend down to reach her bowls without losing her balance. She can’t simply be “let out,” we have to carry her down the steps, make sure she doesn’t move around too much, and watch her struggle to balance as she does her business. We are happy to do it, but it is an adjustment…and every time I do it, somewhere in the back of my mind I think, “I shouldn’t have to be doing this because THIS SHOULD HAVE NEVER HAPPENED.” It’s hard to watch a dog go from the most lithe, rambunctious thing you’ve ever seen to a clumsy pup with an awkward bunny hop instead of a quick gait. And it’s especially hard to not be angry about how it happened.
With any loss, there are stages of grief. We’re having a hard time realizing we can’t take her for walks or runs right now. She was Michael’s running buddy, happily jumping up to give him “high fives” during their run. He misses that. We miss her being able to easily jump on and off the couch and play with Pancho and a hundred other things she will probably be able to do again, but never quite the same way.
I’ve experienced so much anger over this entire situation, and especially towards the woman and her dog. I spoke harshly to the woman the day I asked her to have her dog assessed. When I hear her dogs bark, anger overwhelms me. When I see her, I am frustrated. I want to make the whole thing disappear, for Leia’s leg to magically grow back, and for this whole thing to have never happened. Unfortunately, that’s not possible. I struggle with hating this house, this yard, and us moving to Louisiana. Drastic, I know — but if we hadn’t moved here, this wouldn’t have happened. It’s tough.
Every day, it gets a little better. Tuesday was the first day I didn’t ugly cry, just a couple of tears. Leia has to be sedated right now to keep her from moving around so much — which is a good sign, that she wants to move and get back to normal, but it’s not good for her healing process. However, the sedation is difficult, because she is constantly drugged, giving her the appearance of being ill. I hate it.
I need to forgive the woman, the situation. I need to accept that this happened and there’s nothing that can be done about it. I need to stop going OVER AND OVER the million tiny things we could have done or should have done to prevent this from happening. Hindsight is 20/20, after all. I need to look for blessings (because they’re everywhere), teachable moments, and inspiration. Leia is a miracle, and her missing leg is a daily reminder of that.
Once her stitches come out and she’s off the meds, I think that’s when the real healing (physical and emotional) will begin. When we see that she can do everything she could do before, just a little differently. When her personality is back full-force and she’s running and jumping all over the place again.
Until then, I’m going to focus on the good, try to forgive, and work on letting go and moving on. If Leia can act like she never even had a fourth leg and adjust like a freaking champ to her new tripawd state, then so can I.
Any advice you have for me in dealing with this type of situation would be greatly appreciated!
Chrissy says:
You are completely, entirely, 100% blameless for this situation. People let their dogs into their yards a million times a day, and there was no reason for you to fear that this time, something terrible would happen.
I think you’re wise to guess that once Leia starts to really heal, and you see how quickly she adapts to being a tripawd (love that term, by the way) you’re grief and anger will begin to ease. Look forward to that moment, and for now, keep getting through each day. You’re doing exactly what you should be doing right now. <3
Summer says:
Lauren, I wish I had some advice :(. I would be feeling exactly the way you are – you’re saying things I could hear myself saying in this situation. I think it’s okay to feel the way you do for a while and I pray that once Leia’s wound is healed more and can really adapt you will be able to a little more too.
Brooke says:
Lauren! I can completely understand what you’re going through – I’m the parent of a one-eyed dog. Though, Crunchy’s injury wasn’t as traumatic as Leia’s, it still hurt to think that I wasn’t there when it happened, and I could have prevented it. I can assure you that it DOES get better. Everyone will learn to adapt, and life will go on as though it never happened. I have faith in Leia! And in you!
Emily says:
Like anything else terrible in life, I think healing comes from understanding that–for some reason you don’t know yet—this happened for a reason. It’s a tough pill to swallow, but you have to believe there is an important lesson in here somewhere.
The stages of grief, as you mentioned, are alive and well when these things happen. Just let yourself feel and be present in those emotions while also working to forgive. The forgiveness isn’t for the other person; it’s something you do for yourself.
One of my favorite “Oprah-isms” is this: Forgiveness is giving up the hope that the past could’ve been any different. So you don’t hold on to wishing that YOU could have done something different to preven this pain.
You let that go and you move forward with the grace that God has given you.
Emily says:
*prevenT, sorry.
Heather says:
You have every right to feel all those emotions. Now that you are in the anger phase soon will come acceptance. It just takes time.
Did you buy that house or are you renting? Can you move?
Tina says:
Lauren….I’m an avid reader of your blog. Your stage of life (moving, grad school, dog love, etc.) reminds me of the stage of life my husband I were in our first decade of marriage. Some hindsight after suffering through some similar traumas those first few years: one day this will become part of your and Michael’s “story.” Be extra compassionate to him right now. He’ll remember it forever…and that compassion will help you heal. I’m sorry you have to go through this.
Victoria says:
Maybe you can get Leia an elevated pet feeder so she does not need to bend down to eat. I saw them in a SkyMall magazine once. Or instead of spending money, make your own makeshift elevated pet feeder. :) You could go thrift shopping and find a cute stand and customize it. :)
Valerie says:
I remember being so horrified after our dog lost his leg. A part of me thought it was cruel to keep him alive because we didn’t want to let him go. I remember thinking that my dog was suffering and that he would never be the same. I was proved SO WRONG. This dog, I can’t even begin to tell you how mischievous he was before the accident. He could escape our yard regardless of how secure the fence was, even after we resorted to an electric fence system. After the healing process, and to be honest I have blocked that part out (I was in high school and busy being a teenager), I swear this dog was faster and even more capable of mischief. One example (it was his back leg that was lost), without fail every night he would jump up and balance on that one leg and use his front paws to twist a round door knob to sneak himself inside the house into the air conditioner/heating and the comfort of a bed. After a while my parents surrendered and made him their first official house pet.
I can understand your anger – I am glad that I have no idea who hit our dog with their car. Maybe you can focus on the part that put your husband/yourself/the vet in the right place at the right time so that you were able to react and save her life? I promise that you will feel so much better about this ordeal in a month or two. Stay strong!
Stephany says:
I really wish I had some useful advice, but I honestly would be feeling the same way you are. It was a situation that could have been prevented, but it happened and it has to be SO tough to see little Leia as a tripawd. But I know, as dogs do, she’ll figure it all out and be the same Leia as before… just with one less leg.
<33 I think of you daily and am praying for your little family!
Kayla says:
Hey Lauren,
I feel like our story is similar. Both our babies are struggling to walk, but when there is greater adversity the moments of accomplishment are even more amazing and miraculous. Elena has learned and is learning how to get around and charm us all, while Leia is already doing the same thing. They are both perfect. You are doing an aweseome job as a new mom of a special needs puppy, and try not to question why this happened. It doesn’t do you or Leia any good. It only brings on worry, anger and fear. Focus on the blessings and how beautiful she is. Leia is amazing.
Martha Sutton says:
You are doing well, Lauren. Hope you read my blog. I feel that you will adjust and you are on your way. Leia will teach you more than you can imagine. Blessings and Prayers for all!
Sarah says:
I don’t have any lifechanging advice! I think you’re focus is on the right thing: “I need to look for blessings (because they’re everywhere), teachable moments, and inspiration. Leia is a miracle, and her missing leg is a daily reminder of that.” I was complaining today about my whiny teething kid and then read a story about a baby that died. Suddenly, my whiny kid is pretty awesome. Nothing like tragedy to bring your perspective/priorities into focus! Praying things get immensely better once her stitches are out!