Every Paw Has Its Claw

Trigger Warning: This post deals with the sudden loss of a pet, if this is too hard for you to read, we understand and ask that you sit this post out.

When I brought Grimm home in late December, I had an 8 year old German Shepherd, Loki, as well. Loki was always my dad's dog, no matter how many treats, toys, or snuggles I gave him. Loki was just a man's dog, and in hindsight, I wish I hadn't given him such a hard time about it.

Loki wasn't a huge fan of other dogs. Not a hatred or even dislike really, just a respectful ambivalence, an IDGAF attitude about them. Loki was a people pup, and that was fine with me. I knew when I brought another dog into the home that Loki wouldn't necessarily be a huge part of shaping that puppy into as great of a dog as he was, and I was perfectly fine with that. I had (and still have) big plans for Grimm.

What I hadn't realized was just how much Grimm would love other dogs, no matter how many "back up punk" snarls he got. Loki tolerated Grimm for the most part, and when he was over the puppy antics, we would find a way to give Loki some space to himself. Was it perfect? No. But I figured Grimm would settle down eventually and from there we could build a relationship between the two that centered around respect.

I didn't get the chance to do that. Because Loki passed unexpectedly January 19th.

Loki hadn't been himself for a few days. More aloof than normal, not eating or drinking, diarrhea and vomiting bile. It wasn't unlike Loki to go through a not eating phase, so I assumed he was having a stomach ache. He didn't show any signs of a fever or pain. Again, hindsight, something was wrong and had been for longer than any of us had known.

The afternoon of January 19th my dad found Loki outside in the grass, completely unable to get up, and made the decision to take Loki to our vet (who thankfully is also an emergency vet). After several exams, the vet found a slow-growing cyst on Loki's spleen. The vet offered my dad options, but even so, he knew the best one was to let Loki go peacefully that day. He was so weak that surgery wasn't a guarantee, and they weren't sure that the surgery would restore his mobility. Loki had been to the vet the month before for his allergy and steroid shot (Florida dog means crazy allergies). The vet hadn't suspected anything was amiss then either. Just one of those times when things didn't quite go as planned. We would learn a couple of weeks after Loki passed that his father would pass from the same cyst on the spleen. Based on my (admittedly minimal) research, there's nothing conclusive that shows this is hereditary.

I wasn't there to say goodbye, I was home with Grimm because I thought everything was going to be okay. Loki was still, arguably, a young senior with a solid health history, I didn't think I had a reason to think the worst. I'd been fortunate to know that my older German Shepherds were going to leave us because they'd been on a steady decline for years. With Loki, there were no long-term signs.

Dad came home and broke the news and I was shattered. For 13 years, almost half of my life, I had been the German Shepherd lady. And in the span of 2 years, I'd lost all three of them, and a huge piece of myself.

Grimm tried to be comforting, but, ya know, puppies. I didn't need the jumping and biting and playfulness that he brought in by the boatload. I needed quiet and to just let it all sink in. It was a luxury I just didn't have because I'm a puppy mom, and sometimes a puppy mom just has to do what a puppy mom has to do.

In the days that followed, Grimm would look for Loki, and my heart would hurt even more. I'd debate finding a new home for Grimm, because I just couldn't handle all the things I was feeling:

• Guilt- because I hadn't noticed how much Loki was hurting & because I brought home this rambunctious puppy who bugged him constantly his last few weeks.

• Shame- because I believed I was a better dog mom than this, that it was my job to know something was wrong, and I had failed.

• Frustration- because I was losing my temper with Grimm when he hadn't really done anything wrong at all.

• Conflicted- because Grimm could make me happy, but I felt horrible leaving him home all day with my dad who had just said goodbye to his best friend.

• Lost- because I lost a huge piece of who I was, and I didn't have the time I needed to process it all.

• Angry- because I had a plan. Dad was going to have Loki and I was going to have Grimm. Everyone was going to have exactly what they needed.

In the weeks that have followed, I've watched Grimm become pretty attached to my dad. They've found ways to comfort each other, and for that I'm grateful. We've settled into our new version of life, and we've begun to talk about the idea of another German Shepherd coming into our lives. We need it, and honestly, Grimm is too social to happily be an only dog when his people work 8 hour days five days a week. I've wondered what Grimm would be like if he'd had Loki to look up to and watch, but there's no sense dwelling on it. I've made my peace with the fact that no matter how things turned out, we gave Loki a wonderful, beautiful life. As a family, we've learned how resilient we are, because losing three incredible dogs in two years is hard as hell.

In short, grieving with a puppy is as hard as it gets. Even now I'm crying while I write this post, but Grimm doesn't care. He needs me to fill a Kong or his treat puzzle or take him for a walk. I don't get to be selfish, because that's not what being a dog mom is about.

Loki & Grimm getting a care package from one of my aunts. I'll always love this picture, because it's one of too few photos I took of the two of them while I had the chance..