Gracie: Grieving the Loss of a Pet

I do an end of the year review each year. This year was particularly difficult to “review” given the fact that I’d floundered throughout the pandemic to find a bit of passion in my life. Then, it became even more difficult when my little mini Schnauzer, Gracie, started acting oddly the Saturday after Christmas. In a flash, my attention switched from review to sorrow.

I suspected that she, given her advanced age, might have suffered a stroke. She walked a bit wonky. Then, I noticed her right eye was very red and watery. On Monday, I called the vet and got her in. Our vet immediately noticed a brown growth on Gracie’s eye, which I had completely overlooked. The vet suggested I take her to a nearby vet hospital associated with a research university.

Two days later, I sat in the parking lot of that vet hospital with tears rolling down my cheeks as the veterinary ophthalmologist explained that my nearly-16-year-old girl most likely had a huge melanoma which had already metastasized. The tumor most likely already filled her “globe” and was so large it was literally leaking out of her eye. She had two other melanomas on her left shoulder, and another smaller one on top of her head. The vet specialist recommended removal of the eye so they could examine the globe and find out exactly what we were dealing with. When I asked how much it would cost and what kind of time that would give Gracie, the answer was $2k and maybe several months.

Given Gracie’s age, and the fact that the cancer had likely spread, we opted for the treatment recommended by our vet (who has been our vet for 25+ years). We gave her eye drops 3x a day to control the pressure in her eye and gave her cancer powder (a holistic type of medicine) once a day. I helped her up and down steps. Fed her all the canned food she wanted. Put her little red sweater on when she was cold. Helped her up and down the steps to get onto the couch. Flanked the steps with pillows in case she decided to navigate them on her own while I was at work.

Last week, my husband awoke me with a shout about 6 am. Gracie had fallen over and was seizing. It was time for the last trip to the vet. I cuddled her and soothed her until the vet opened, then made the necessary arrangements. Thankfully, our vet clinic allowed me to stay with her in spite of their Covid requirements of curbside dropoff only. I stroked her head as she gradually relaxed and drifted away.

I’m not sure why I’m sharing this, other than to say that I think losing a pet is as traumatic as losing a family member. I have mourned Gracie’s loss, and miss her deeply. We’ve had other pets that hurt when I lost, but none quite as keenly as this little salt and pepper fluff. When our daughter cut us out of her life (again) in 2020, it was Gracie who nuzzled me when I cried. When I felt down or depressed for any reason, it was Gracie who snuggled up in my lap, her head resting on my chest, looking up at me with total love and devotion. When I did anything – laundry, dishes, etc. – it was Gracie who trotted along at my heels, content to be my shadow.

Our home is not empty. We still have Peanut, a little Beagle with a huge heart, and we have Cagney and Lacey, a pair of calico cats who don’t act like cats. All three have been a blessing as we mourn Gracie’s loss.

I will be forever grateful that I spent a good chunk of 2020 with her sleeping at my feet while I worked from home. Gracie was the best part of the pandemic, without a doubt.