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Nine Moons » Blog Archive : Losing Blaise » Losing Blaise

Losing Blaise

MCQ - May 13, 2009

He gets a little weaker every day.  The 100 pound dog that knocked visitors down in the entry hall and jumped up on the bed every night to tuck my daughter in is only a memory, no more visible than the wiggly puppy whose tail wagged his whole body.  To say he is a good dog would be a terrible injustice.  He is quite simply a deeply loved family member.  What higher praise can you give a dog? As he slips away from us a little more all the time, we wonder how we can possibly tell him how much he has meant to us in the four short years we have known him.  He can’t understand the word “cancer,” and probably has no idea what is even happening to him, except that he can’t run and jump anymore, feels weak, doesn’t want to eat.  Does he know why we hug him and kiss him all the time now?  Does he know what all the crying is about, or does it just confuse him?

I don’t know where animals go when they die.  I have lost people whom I loved and I am convinced that I will see them again.  I have faith in a loving Father that keeps a home for us and has a plan that will allow us to be welcomed there someday.  I don’t know what his plan is for Blaise, but I know nothing will feel like home for me without him.  There is a great emptiness growing as he slips away.  I don’t know how to say goodbye.


  1. it won’t be heaven if our pets aren’t there, too.

    prayers to all of you for a peaceful transition.

    Comment by ellen — May 13, 2009 @ 6:49 pm

  2. Ah. :<

    I’m sorry, MCQ. ~

    Comment by Thomas Parkin — May 13, 2009 @ 10:34 pm

  3. So sad. Great questions.

    Comment by john f. — May 14, 2009 @ 7:31 am

  4. Our old dog passed away two years ago in April on Conference Sunday. She was in great health before the tainted dog food poisoned her.

    While she was dying, the kids each took turns sitting with her and only patting her a little. She looked frightened and in pain. The kids cried a lot. I think it was good for them to see death, but it was hard. We did not shield them from it. We saw her slip into a coma and then the moment came you tell her spirit left her body. We had a little funeral.

    I think the best we could do for her at that time was wet her tongue with ice chips and wipe her face with a cold rag if she seemed sweaty and cover her with a towel if she seemed cold. We stayed back so not to overwhelm her. We repeatably told her during and after death that we loved her and she was a good dog. I am sure her spirit understood.

    If you have the option, you might want to have your dog put down, less suffering that way. We did not realize she was dying until it was too late to take her in to the vet. You can hold him while he falls asleep.

    Good luck, as this is a hard time for your family. I think it is a good learning experience for kids.

    I am sorry,

    Comment by JA Benson — May 14, 2009 @ 10:23 am

  5. Thanks for your thoughts, all, especially Joanna.

    We have been to the vet many times already with Blaise, seeking some solution to his symptoms. We have already spent thousands on tests and treatments and we just got the preliminary diagnosis of cancer yesterday. They expect to be able to confirm it today. We would gladly spend thousands more on treatments for him if we thought it would make him better, but it appears that there is nothing that will do that.

    So far, he is not in any pain, but we will end his struggle if it looks like he is beginning to suffer. That is one gift we can still give him.

    Comment by MCQ — May 14, 2009 @ 11:47 am

  6. [...] Please see my post on Blaise here. [...]

    Pingback by Blaise « MCQESQ — May 14, 2009 @ 11:49 am

  7. Poor Blaise. The cutest puppy ever. I’m convinced that we’ll be re-connected with our animal friends in the next life. (Although being responsible for them might be another question, I’m not sure how I’d feel about having to take care of the plethora of hamsters I harbored at one time or another.)

    Comment by Michelle Glauser — May 14, 2009 @ 12:05 pm

  8. That’s a good point, Michelle, it might be kinda crowded if we get all our pets with us in the hereafter. I think we’ll have plenty of room though, and it may be that, in that world, they will be able to care for themselves. My conception of heaven is that none of us need to eat or clean up anything.

    Comment by MCQ — May 14, 2009 @ 2:26 pm

  9. Forgive me, this will be a little long.

    In a reversal of the usual roles, Lili was supposed to be my mother’s dog but she was such a little brat that no one else wanted to take care of her. So she became mine instead. Many nights in high school I’d drag myself out of bed to take her out. Bleary-eyed and often freezing I’d stand there, trying not to think how few hours I had left of sleep before school or before morning seminary, while my precious, infuriating fuzzy-thing sat on the deck and stared at the stars!

    Eventually, of course, I went off to university and though I was no longer there to be her “number 1,” she still snuggled under the blankets with me when I was home, curled on my lap, and most importantly, tore across the house like a torpedo to throw herself in my arms when I came home. Then even university ended and I moved on with my life, spending months in Canada before moving to Japan for three years.

    Two months after 9/11 and only weeks before I was going to be home for Thanksgiving, I got the news that Lili had had to be put down. I screamed. I screamed and screamed. It hurt so much that my “baby” had died. That I hadn’t even known she was sick! I’d known she was having some trouble but I’d no idea it had gotten so bad. I’d just gone ahead with my life and left her behind and she was gone and I hadn’t been there for her.

    Yeah, it hurt. Yeah, it still hurts.

    I’m not dragging you through my pain for nothing, though. Two years later, the night I was leaving Japan for good, I spent a lot of time in prayer. I was all worked up about the future. (“Can’t sleep, future will eat me!”) At last I reached the end of me and just said “Ok, God. I’ve said all I have to say… if You have anything to say, I may finally be quiet enough to hear You.”

    A Voice, not loud but strong, a Voice I have to give that capital to because I heard it as clearly and completely as I feel the effects of gravity said: “Lili misses you.”

    Everything was created spiritually before it was created physically, right? We’ll definitely have our beloved pets in heaven too.

    In the meantime, my heart goes out to your family as you face this loss. Knowing you’ll see them again eases but does not erase the ache of missing them now.

    Comment by Proud Daughter of Eve — May 14, 2009 @ 6:40 pm

  10. Thanks PDOE, that is a beautiful story. I’m really hoping that this experience will teach us something like that–a bit of revelation that we can keep and hold in our hearts. So far it just feels like a random piece of crap.

    Comment by MCQ — May 14, 2009 @ 10:57 pm

  11. Oh, I hadn’t heard yet what was wrong with him! How horrible. I can’t believe such a young dog could come down with cancer. Do they know how much time he has? I take it he’s home now? I’m so sorry.

    Comment by Shanakin Skywalker — May 15, 2009 @ 8:15 am

  12. Thanks baby sis. He’s home. He has a few weeks at most, they say, but I don’t know how accurate that is. Sometimes he seems pretty healthy and other times it seems like he’s too weak to lift his head. We’re just taking it a day at a time and giving him as much love as possible. It turns out that the only thing he will eat is waffles, so we’re making waffles three times a day.

    Comment by MCQ — May 15, 2009 @ 11:50 am

  13. You’re welcome, MCQ. Even if you don’t get a bit of revelation like that – remember mine didn’t come until two years later, so you may get it but it may be a wait – I hope you’ll remember my story and it will help you hope.

    Comment by Proud Daughter of Eve — May 18, 2009 @ 5:34 am

  14. MCQ – I saw the title of this post lack week when you first posted it and I avoided reading it. It has been 43 years since my dog died and I’m still not over that. He was half basset hound and half beagle and just as cute as you might imagine. He was hit by the neighbors car and lived (suffered) for a week before he died. February 1966 was a dark time for me. I was twelve.

    I’m sorry for your loss. My wife spoke at her neice’s funeral a couple of years ago – a young woman of 29 who left four little children and a husband behind. I remember reading her talk and one line stood out in my mind, “We can’t have happy reunions without tearful goodbyes.” I have to believe that not only applies to people but to everything living thing we love.

    Comment by lamonte — May 18, 2009 @ 10:24 am

  15. Thanks Lamonte. I have hope in the reunions.

    Comment by MCQ — May 30, 2009 @ 3:47 pm

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