My dog of 13 years died on January 28th. His name was Toby and he saved my life. We adopted him from the ASPCA in Maryland when I was in a day treatment program at Shepherd Pratt Hospital in August of 2002. Toby’s death was sudden and shocking. I’m sitting here writing this with his ashes in a cedar box next to me. My sweet, loving boy is gone. I feel like someone took the wind out of me and I don’t know how to move on. Everyday I cry, then stop, then cry again. I put his bed in our bedroom with his jacket, collar, favorite toy and picture. I say good night to him every night and then remember he’s not there. I’m devastated.
Toby was my light, my champion, my best friend, my snuggler when I was sick and my sunshine. I like to think he thought the same about me. When I tried to hurt myself he was there to stop me. He would walk into the room and sit next to me. He saved my life, he gave me a reason to get up and out. He was my light at the end of the tunnel. He witnessed me go through everything and never gave up on me. Everything reminds me of him.
I stopped taking pictures of myself after he died for #mytruthassginment. Although it would have been a good time to document my life, I just couldn’t keep it up. I tried a few times and kept thinking I have to get back to my blog but I couldn’t. I’m also a business owner and had to continue to run that, it was just all too much. It’s still too much, I’m exhausted. I can’t keep up with my life. My house is a mess and there a million things to do that I have let fall through the cracks. I just can’t get my mind together and have found myself getting depressed. I like to sit in his spot on the couch, like I am now, and sit with our other dog Stella. I like to keep her company and reminisce about Toby. I like to think he is in a peaceful place…a beach with his friend Lucy and lots of roasted chicken to eat. Three of his favorite things. I like to think that someday I’ll find another dog and look in their eyes and see a little bit of Toby. That I’ll get to hug him one more time and tell him how much I love him. When we knew how sick he was and that he would potentially die in surgery we chose to have some alone time with him. He was looped up on meds and uncomfortable. He wanted to go home, I could see it in his eyes. He was too sick to take home. I thanked him for being in my life, told him how much I loved him, walked him around the building, gave him some good pets and then I let the vet tech take him and watched him walk away. I never saw him again. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do, I had to let my best friend go. He saved my life and I couldn’t save his.
RIP Toby-August 30, 2002-January 28, 2015