I can hardly believe that 4 weeks have gone by since the last time I saw your sweet face and caressed your soft spotted ears. Twenty eight days. Twenty eight days too long. I miss you so much. I try hard to focus on how I had no other option than to let you go, but still I wish you could be here with me- with us.
Within my heart there is a constant cruel tug-of-war going on between remembering the joy you brought to our lives and the void that you left behind in leaving. I struggle still, in your absence. You are the first thought that enters my mind each morning and the last to leave me before I drift off to sleep. I miss you immensely.
I see you, or rather where you should be, each day in every way. When I’m cooking in the kitchen and only Daphne is there, I see you. I see the space empty where you would typically be, and yet you are not there. It’s almost more than I can bare.
Daphne is getting along better now, but she still misses you so much. You were her everything. We are all thankful for how bravely you battled cancer and for how long you fought to stay by our side. Thank you.
We hope you are having the best time on the other side and will meet you again someday. We love you. Always.
Behold The Amazing Bruno: Tripawd ‘Track Star’ or ‘Trickster’?
I do NOT tell a lie when I say that I was NEVER able to get Bruno to either: run to me upon command, “come” (with ANY sense of urgency) when I called his name, or rush towards me (in any manner which may have ever so slightly resembled a jog) even when lured by tricks and the promise of treats.
The boy was in his own time Zone.
I swear that it wasn’t until Bruno became a tripawd, that we witnessed his most bizarre bursts of energy.
These unannounced bouts Bruno performed would most often catch us completely off guard, leaving us laughing hysterically. We watched him: twisting and turning, spinning, head-faking, leaping, sprinting and even bucking (like a little bronco) every which direction.
These are just some of the things we made a conscious effort to do with Bruno the moment we found out that he had cancer. We weren’t sure what his future held in store, nor how much time with him we had left. We also didn’t realize, at first, how choosing to become a tripawd would be a blessing in disguise; it would give us our boy back and grant us more precious time together.
How is it possible that seven days go by so fast, but each of those seven days seemed to drag on forever? How is is possible that I can be crying and laughing at the same time when I think of Bruno? Or that I feel that I have a huge gaping hole in my heart, yet my heart is also full of warm loving memories he left behind?
A week has passed and I have had much time to reflect. I’ve thought over and over about the final moments and the days leading up to our goodbye. I know now that it was both his time and that it was also the right time. How peacefully my boy went.
I can only imagine the fun he is having with all the other tripawds which preceded him in crossing rainbow bridge. And so, If heaven is our version of paradise, then I can only imagine he is surrounded and able to enjoy all those things he loved.
Open air drives down long country roads,
Homemade meals hot from the stove,
Fishing any river and catching some rays,
As well as watching LMN, in bed, on lazy days.
Christmas tree lights were his favorite during the season,
Chomping sticks, eating grass, & smelling flowers he found mighty pleasin’.
Daphne, a handful, was always his girl,
And trips to The Buffalo River inspired him to twirl.
Today, marks day 4 without my remarkable boy, Bruno. In honor of him and how amazing he was I chose to repost this video, as watching it always makes me smile and laugh. This clip captures the energetic side of his essence and shows how he truly had a zest for life! We miss you!
I have to give myself a pat on the back today. I’ve only cried one and a half times so far today. Once, as I was in the shower as I contemplated leaving the house to get much needed groceries. The half, when I managed to stop myself after only a few sniffles and tears had welled up, and composed myself by forcing me to think of a “happy” memory of Bruno; thus, the “half” cry.
Each day I’ve gone back & sought comfort in the scrapbooks, photo albums, and hundreds of pictures on my iPad.Browsing through them helps me feel closer to him and somehow propels me through THAT tough moment until the next one comes along.
The days seem to drag on and the hours seem to last forever. So much time suddenly freed up. Once again, I must adjust to a new, new normal. Or perhaps back to just “normal”? Who knows.
The moment that’s the hardest is EACH morning, the second after I awake and open my eyes. It is then that consciousness sets in and that I all over again realize that Bruno is no longer at my side. I wipe the tears from my eyes and tell him how much I miss him.
As the day progresses I try my best to go about my day, and make an effort to carry out tasks throughout the house. I however haven’t dared remove his blanket or pillow from the spot on the livingroom carpet where we were camped out for the last two weeks. They provide me much needed comfort. Daphne has been sleeping on his pillow and blanket the last two days, and I have been sleeping by her side. I just don’t know how to go back to sleeping in my bed just yet. I’ve grown accustomed to intermittent sleep after countless months of watching over him vigilantly throughout the night as we camped out in the livingroom.
At times throughout the day it seems as though maybe he’s just at an extended doctor’s visit, or possibly being boarded alone. But both those notions are quickly dismissed as they are completely outlandish and because we would never do either.( The only time he ever spent away was during his amputation.) It’s as though I’m still somehow convinced that given time he will most certainly walk through the front door again. But I know
this isn’t true.
Day one without Bruno has been a doozy. Today would be his 8th birthday. Waves of emotion come and go. I smile when I think of him, then cry because he’s physically no longer with us. On one hand it’s so quiet, and on the other his absence and the void is enormous. It’s strange to let Daphne out, to go the restroom, and to only hold the door open for her to come inside. I keep feeling the need to hold the door open longer as I always had for my boy who was always slightly lagging behind. I miss the pitter patter of his footsteps across our floor. The sound of my tripawd; the clicking of his first two steps followed by a slight pause and then the gentle drag of his remaining hind leg following behind. Today, as I got into our Tahoe I noticed that the seatbelt was fastened and realized that yesterday my husband had buckled in Bruno (now ashes encased in a black box) into the passenger seat as they’d taken their last drive home together. It made me cry, such loving care taken of our boy. Daphne seems okay for now. She’s wired differently than him. She’s a sweet girl but less in tune with human emotion and more easily distracted by her drive for whatever it is we wave in front of her. As for now, I’ll take it day by day.I plan on honoring his memory, spoiling Daphne, and spending overdue time with the four boys he and Daphne blessed us with.
At 10:10 a.m. We released our boy and running he went to Rainbow Bridge. Our vet made a house call. After having fought so long with such a quiet, resilient, unwaivering spirit, he went so peacefully. It was the right time.we each had heart to hearts with him, and we both told him that it was okay to let go. We also told him that should he decide to not go naturally, that a full on country breakfast would await him in the morning. I should have know based on his long lasting love affair with food that he would opt for option 2. So, this morning…a big country breakfast it was. Bruno downed eggs, bacon, potatoes, and a biscuit. words cannot possibly express how much I miss him already but I know he is in a better place and that we will meet again. Thank you all for your kind words and support. And thank you to Countryview Vet Clinic for allowing him to go with grace and dignity. We love you Bruno.