***Trigger Warning** Loss of Pet**Love of a Pet***
I lost my baby boy. My first love. The dog I had always hoped and dreamed for. My Winnie Boo. My whole life I wanted an English Bulldog. And my whole life, my mom told me, when you grow up and move out, you can get one yourself. They are so expensive and a lot of work. She wasn’t wrong. So, to lose him very suddenly this past February was completely devastating, right before his 12th birthday. You truly are never ready to say goodbye, and a loss of a pet is really like losing a family member.
Of course, it was worth it. Looking back on this journey to get our sweet boy, it was many long years of dreaming and manifesting. And, then, finally, when I was out on my own two feet and securely dating, but not yet living with my boyfriend (and future husband) I began searching. That is when I stumbled upon the “Chicago English Bulldog Rescue”, or CEBR. I started stalking their site. I knew that I couldn’t afford a puppy from a breeder, and frankly, didn’t think that I had the energy for one anyway. I also didn’t have the ability to bring a dog to work or figure out what I would do with an un-potty-trained dog while I was away at work, so that was pretty much out. CEBR focused on rescuing dogs from terrible situations in puppy mills but also for people who gave them up, which unfortunately, happened often. Large vet bills, inbreeding, and significant health concerns that just effected daily life (wiping folds, special diets, eye issues, breathing issues, etc) was not for the faint of heart. CEBR worked on a foster basis as well. Where, the fosters would work in network to pick up a dog when it was needed and then temporarily house that dog so they could get to know them, build their personality and profile, and decide what the best fit would be for that dog, since they were not going to risk someone giving the dog up yet again. Perfect.
I silently watched these dogs for two years. Finally, my husband and I moved in together into our own place and I was ready to wear him down. It took about a year and permission from our landlord, and we were set. The longest, most intense interview process opened up our eyes to the seriousness of adopting a dog. We had to do a written application, phone interview, in-person house visit, and still, no dog. They were working to place the perfect dog in your home.
One night after the house visit, we were surfing CEBR’s rescue site and my hubs found Winston. Recently having knee and palette surgery, he needed a house with no other dogs, and no stairs. And, one that would let him be on the couch. This was us! My hubs recently completing his second knee surgery, he already felt a kindred spirit. We knew in our heart that this was our man. And, we emailed the rescue saying so. They agreed.
On March 22, 2014, we got our boy. Just 3 days shy of his 3rd birthday, Winnie Boo had found his forever home. At first, beyond the excitement of having him, it was not easy. He was constantly sick. Throwing up and gagging, runny poops, he was not feeling good. We had some over the counter supplements and recommendations on food from our foster family, but it wasn’t working. After our 3rd ER visit and finding out he had a bleeding ulcer, we knew we were in trouble. At the time, I was working in Woodlawn on the South Side of Chicago and I stumbled on my way home into a local homeopathic pet food shop and burst into tears with their manager. My dog was sick and no matter what food we gave him, it just kept getting worse. He introduced me to food allergies here. You know – – They always say that dogs prepare you for kids, but with our situation, this could not be more true. The pet shop told me to take this Hemopet at home swab test and send it into the lab in California to get back a full report on what he was allergic to. In the meantime, buy this raw goats milk and feed the ratio to his weight in goats milk every day until we got the results back. It was probably the second or third ingredient in all of the food that was making him sick. And, vets aren’t trained on proper nutrition and food allergies. Does this sound familiar?!! And also, equally infuriating?
Well, we did this for about a week, and Winston got better each day. His coat was shiny, he was not throwing up, and his poop started to straighten itself out. When I tell you that this dog, came back, with a panel allergic to everything under the sun, I kid you not. He was allergic to beef, pork, salmon, eggs, wheat, peas, lentils, peanut butter, sweet potato, regular potato, barley, oatmeal, the list goes on. And, we were feeding him almost every single one of these things! No wonder this poor dog was so sick.
We were introduced to Steve’s Real Food, complemented by the Raw Goats Milk, and instantly, our dog was better. Combined with our daily supplements of Chondritin and Glucosamine, Omega 3’s, and some allergy meds, we were on the up and up. Our dog was ready to rock! We had to watch everything though. Treats, groomers, table scraps, you name it. We still had our share of health issues down the way – he got into everything, was stung by things, ate the Christmas tree pine needles, needed multiple eye surgeries, got skin cancer, tweaked his knee countless times, and eventually, had an ear that would not stop getting infected, and in his golden years, went fully blind. But I tell you what, there were some MAGIC years every where in between.
He loved our kids hard. From a dog who they said couldn’t be around other dogs and who we took to “Growl” class, were terrified of bringing our first born home to, and who hated anything with wheels, he was the ultimate big brother. Him and Pooks were thick as thieves. He loved toys, and playing in the back yard with any ball possible. He would play soccer and push a beach ball or big ball around the yard like he was in the world cup.
He jumped on everyone to tell them he loved them and wanted to play, and never stopped. His anxiety of us being gone the first 5 years slowed down and finally was non existent as wen entered the pandemic years, moved into our new house, and people were home all the time. He lived his best life. He welcomed our 3rd son, and then our two foster children with open arms. He was my best friend. He never left my side — even to my disdain as I tripped over him in the kitchen trying to make dinner. He slept in my office on the futon every single day, all day, and snored away while I typed and chatted with colleagues. He held on as long as he could until the very end.
I think it always shocks you in the end. We knew, of course, that his time was limited. He was turning 12 the next month, and this is pretty much unheard of for an English Bulldog, and especially for a rescue with such a hard start at life. Daily walks were no longer, his blindness and growing deafness were becoming problematic to go outside at night. His growing cyst on his knee continued to slow him down. But still, we thought, we would have a 12th birthday and celebrate and maybe soon, but not now. It started with him not being able to calm down at night. His normal routine was to be let out around 10 or 11 for the last time for the night and he would sleep in his crate, not waking until morning. He started barking every hour on the hour. He threw up a few times. I took him into the vet and they gave him some nausea medication and some anti biotics, and said to watch him but this should do the trick. I called a week or two later to update that while the throwing up had stopped, the waking up and barking had not. He seemed confused at night, and like he didnt know where he was and couldn’t get back in the house. He couldn’t settle. My husband had started sleeping downstairs with him on the couch to get him to fall asleep.
Mind you, this was just after my surgery in January where he had slept with me on the couch every day and snuggled me contently, knowing I was not feeling good. But, looking back, maybe he wasn’t either. They asked me to come in and get some labs done to see what was going on, and rule out anything larger. But, it sounded like dementia. That weekend, he started to cough. Coughing like wheezing, and like he was going to throw up but then not, clearing his throat of sorts. I was taking him in Monday but by the end of the weekend, also Super Bowl Sunday, it was really bad. I brought him in but wasn’t seeing the vet, only the tech and I asked the front desk to send videos to the Vet of him coughing. She looked at me with those knowing eyes. This was not good. Within an hour of leaving, the vet called. She wanted to see him the next day as soon as possible. Valentines Day. I brought 4/5 of my kids with me to the vet and it was chaos. I couldn’t hear anything and everyone was screaming and I was barely hanging on. They heard an heart arrhythmia that hadn’t been there 3 weeks ago. They couldn’t tell me for sure what it was without an echo or a x-ray which would be about $700. I told them I had to talk to my husband and that I would take him home and call back. They gave me some cough pills and a sleeping pill to help him get comfortable. By the time we got home he was shutting down. His cough was worsening by the minute and I was basically in hysterics. I took the kids upstairs to bed and my husband spent the whole night with our boy downstairs. He couldn’t get up on the couch anymore and my husband didn’t think he was going to make it through the night.
On Wednesday, February 15, our boy wouldn’t get up. He was still breathing but he wouldn’t get out of his bed. He wouldn’t get up to go out, to eat breakfast, to do anything. My husband had gone to work for a meeting and the kids were at school and I just lay by my boys bed sobbing my little heart out. I was on and off work calls and I basically lost my mind. My boy was letting go. Isn’t that funny, how even when you are not ready, they let you know that they are? My boy who never leaves my side. Who sleeps with me every day, who is always in the action, wanted to be left alone. The only time he got up was to walk into his crate and turn his back to me. It was time to say goodbye. My hubs left the office around 11:30am and headed to get the littles from daycare, and then picked up the bigs from school. By 1:30, all 5 kids were at home with us, and we were all hugging and crying and saying goodbye. My neighbor across the street came over to watch the kids and hang with them so my hubs and I could go together, and help our boy leave the world the way he came into our family. Just the three of us.
How I am even able to write this blog post, I don’t know. I am crying so hard I can barely see the computer screen, and its been almost two weeks. When does this get easier? Or does it?
My hubs towards the end had been frustrated with the growing daily care for Winnie on top of the expenses, and it was getting stressful. He often half joked that it was time for him to go. I used to get mad, but I don’t think that I realized until that day, how much he really loved our boy. You see, hubs never had a pet growing up that he was responsible for. He had been resistant to getting a dog because he just wasn’t that attached. I knew it was going to be good for him, especially prepping for kids, as he had never had to care for anyone or anything else before besides himself. I always said that Winnie was my dog, but he really was Hubs just as much. When I scroll through all of my memories of our boy, 90% of them are Hubs and him. Snuggling in bed, snuggling on the couch, posing on vacation, selfies at the vet. Towards the end of his life, hubs was the primary care taker of Win as well – I was breastfeeding or always doing something as the primary care giver to the kiddos. He was the first one up – always doing his eye medicine, feeding him, making sure he was taken care of for the day. He was typically the last to let him out at night. And, the days I wasn’t home or went into the office you better believe Winnie was right by his side too.
I think February 15 will go down as one of the hardest days of our lives to date. Walking into the vet, I saw a side of Hubs that I don’t think I had seen unlocked. The vet was incredible. They knew we were coming and ushered us right into the room. Winnie could barely walk by then, and Hubs had grabbed our favorite blanket to snuggle him up with in the room and in the car. Another selfless thing from my Hubs that I would not have thought of. I didn’t even occur to me that this blanket was special until after we had lost him. Looking back that night through all of our photos from the beginning especially, that blanket was there with us and our boy. He went fast. The vet said normally it takes longer, but he was clearly suffering after they gave him the anesthesia and he was struggling to breathe. Once they administered the meds, it wasn’t five seconds before he let go and was gone. Hubs and I sobbed. Like, ugly cry, guttural noises. 10 years of our lives with this precious little angel who taught us so much about patience, unconditional love, food allergies, and joy. Who spent his whole life, loving us and wanting to be near us. Who’s anxiety finally calmed when he was able to be with us every day.
Our little girl was wrecked just as much as we were. It was her first best friend and partner in crime. This loss of a pet will truly go with her always, I am convinced. Our middle didn’t love him nearly as much but more out of dislike for dogs in general and maybe a little fear (he was big and knocked kids over easily). Our little guy loved him unconditionally but still doesn’t really understand. He walks around the house still 2 weeks later, “Mama, Winnie die?”. I think its more like, where is he, then actual questions related to death. Two weeks later and I still go to let him out every night. Just today I had Hubs bring the rest of his food to our dog food shop for donation, and yesterday someone came to pick up the dog gate. The two days after Winnie was gone I had to drive to the office. I couldn’t take being home without him. Hubs knew that and immediately go the futon out of my office, the dog crate and the dog gates out the house. I know that you could argue that maybe that made it worse, seeing it empty space, but to us, it was worse, seeing it there without him. Even right now – I keep looking over to the right where the futon was, expecting to see him, and he’s not there.
Anyway, I guess this blog post is therapeutic in a way. A way to pen to paper my love for such a sweet sweet boy. To put into words my loss of my best buddy. And, to share my words of utter appreciation for an incredible rescue organization that goes so far to match you with your best friend for life. A thank you to our main man for so many years of protection, happiness, and joy. For our being our best teacher, our best friend, and someone that we will dearly miss forever and always. I love you my Winnie boo. Mama misses you.
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