Monday, January 25, 2016


Apollo's first picture, at 10 weeks, driving home from the airport in my passenger seat :)

We lost our Man Bear Dog on January 2nd. I am drowning in sadness right now and sick to my stomach with the pain his loss has caused me. I saw my husband cry for only the second time in the 16 years I've known him.

He had a seizure at 2 in the afternoon and we realized after it ended, that he has likely been having these episodes for months but we were always asleep and had never seen the actual seizure, only the aftermath. The vet said the most likely cause in a geriatric dog is a brain tumor. He was 9 1/2 and that's quite old for a Mastiff. He was also on a lot of pain medications and anti-inflammatories to help with his bad hips and back, and even those weren't enough for him to be completely comfortable. We knew this time wasn't far off, but that didn't make any of it any easier. 

I don't want to forget him. As each day passes, I am afraid I will forget his smell, the way his fur feels, the sounds he made, every little detail about him and all the ways he did things. I stroked his ear while we were waiting for the doctor at the emergency vet hospital. I memorized exactly the way his ear felt and never wanted to let go. I sit and stare at the thousands of pictures and videos we have of him. They simultaneously make me happy and make me sob.

Nick and I are gathering all of the photos to make a giant photo book so we can look at them all whenever we want in one place. We also had a paw print impression done at the vet. I wish these items would heal my heart, but nothing will bring him back and I'm having the hardest time with that. That I'll never ever see him again. That reality hurts so, so much.

He was the biggest sweetheart, so amazing with the kids, he loved everyone he met, he went so many places with us - exploring L.A., hiking all over, Yosemite in the snow, to the family ranch in Ojai many times, on road trips all over Southern California. He lived at both our first house and this current one, at my parent's house in the very beginning and in between houses. He let me dress him up for every holiday. He loved to kiss faces, especially Nick's, all over. He was there through all of our infertility struggles, he was there when we brought both babies home from the hospital, he was there for every part of our lives, the good, the bad, the ugly. All of it. Gosh I miss him. 

This pain truly feels unbearable and I feel like I will never surface from this drowning feeling. It's terrible. It's a blessing in disguise that Grayson (and obviously Cora) cannot fully understand what has happened. We have told him several times that he is gone, that he has died. But he doesn't get it. He asks periodically where he is. And my heart breaks a little more. The empty space where he used to sleep looks so large and empty without his 200 lbs there. Every time I look at where his bed used to be or where he used to lay outside or where he used to drink his water, I get that painful pit in my stomach. I catch myself going to let him outside or check on him in the yard, but he's not there. I even think I see him out of the corner of my eye but it's never him.

We love you so much Apollo. We will never forget you and we will never stop missing you. You were the best dog ever.


I wrote this post back in early January, only days after we lost him. Things are better now. I don't cry as often and the pain is not unbearable anymore. But I still think of him daily and miss him SO MUCH :( Grayson still asks where Apollo is every once in a while and my heart breaks all over again.


1 comment:

  1. I'm so sorry :( He looks like such a sweet, wonderful dog. My heart goes out to you.