Author’s note: This column talks about grief, loss, and pet death. Discretion is advised.
On October 6th, I got the call every pet parent dreads. My Cucho had an inoperable cancerous tumor in the liver. He had been throwing up for two days, and they gave him medicine so he could be stable during the exams.
They said they could try to remove the tumor, but it was impossible to remove all of it.
Cucho [A.U. Dalul]
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I Couldn’t Make Him Suffer
I didn’t have to think it, no matter how much it wrecked me.
Cucho was a miniature schnauzer that my dad brought when he was 7 months old. He was 13 years old when we had to say goodbye to him. He was my emotional support animal, my baby, and the family member I told mom not to leave behind when she came from Venezuela to here in the United States.
I had cried, laughed, feared, raged, and hoped so much with him that, no matter how painful, how gut-wrenching it was, I couldn’t keep him alive if that would make him suffer. He deserved better. So that same night, after taking the day off from work, spending so much time with him as I could, my family and I went to the vet to later leave without him.
Those were the longest, most torturous hours I have ever experienced. After giving him to the staff, waiting for them to bring him back before administering the medicine felt like an eternity. The moment that he was gone, however, made the whole day feel as if it had gone with his last breath.
The pain is still so visceral, so deep inside my bones, that I can’t stop the tears from falling. However, I wouldn’t have changed a single thing. I wouldn’t have taken any decision, and I don’t think even for a moment that I would go back in time to spend more time with him. I don’t want to have to say goodbye to him once again.
The Natural Course of Life
I visited the Salt Lake Buddhist Temple this year for a college assignment, and the words of the leader that day have stayed with me. Things fall apart and deteriorate because that is their nature. Things are limited because that is how they are supposed to work, so they can be perfect. My arms bend in a limited way, sure, but that limitation is what makes them great arms, and the day when they cannot bend that easily, it will be because they are following their natural course.
The same is true for familiars.
I knew for years that Cucho would not live long enough for me. One more year or 10 more wouldn’t have been enough time for me. However, his loss has shown me, once again, that death is just another part of life. It is not the end of the road, but a turn in a different direction.
That last day, I thanked him for all these years, all the memories, all the games, and how much I changed and grew thanks to him. The night before, I had asked for a miracle so he would be at peace, regardless of whether that meant a peaceful recovery or a peaceful passing. Peace and healing do not necessarily mean survival; they can just as fairly mean rest. I accepted that two years ago when another vet told me he might not survive a surgery for a different problem.
I found solace in my writing, dwelling on those feelings instead of running away from them, and even though I miss him more than anything every day, even though I cry whenever I think of Cucho, I go through my day. He was an example of resilience, so he serves as an inspiration to be better even after all this ordeal.
Cucho’s Final Lesson
After his death, something struck me to the point of reframing my thoughts: be the better person.
Cucho [A.U. Dalul]
Cucho was loyal until the end, kind, selfless, supportive, happy, and understanding. No matter if I lost my temper, no matter if I got mad at him, no matter anything, he was always there for me. Instead, his love knew no bounds, no limitations, and there was no room for grudges inside his heart. After losing him, I realized that I can easily be the same way: just be the better person, regardless of what the other person does.
This does not mean let others have their way with you and be gracious about it, or forgive even the worst betrayals. It means growing out of those reactions to be a better version that does not dwell on those feelings. Allow yourself to feel them, put limits, put your integrity first at all times, but do not belittle yourself by going down to that level.
One thing I learned recently is that holding on to hate is exhausting and doesn’t help me with anything. I would much rather use my energy for something else.
Writing allowed me to explore those feelings, connecting with my spirituality to heal from grief, to heal from loss, to heal from guilt, and connect with the divine spark inside of me, while also connecting to a goddess I have never worked with, even though she is well-known. I have no idea how things will develop, but that was the first step towards healing.
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