Party over.
My dog died this morning.
Molly. 2000 - 2011.
77 Responses to “Party over.”
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roofingbird says:
That’s horrible, Violet. I’m so sorry.
December 16th, 2011 at 1:06 pm EST -
scott says:
I’m so sorry, Violet.
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Violet Socks says:
I am in total shock. She was sick last night, throwing up, then finally lay down to rest. I watched her all night, thinking I would leave at 6:30 this morning to take her to the vet by the time they opened (they’re an hour away). She died in her sleep before I could even take her to the vet. She was 11 years old.
I’m in total shock. I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again.
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Val says:
Oh mi gosh – Violet, I am so sorry for your loss.
Maybe having a postmortem done will ease your mind, but please know I don’t suggest this to add to your burdens. (Always must suspect neoplasia in the older patient.)
Best wishes,
Val -
Branjor says:
I’m so sorry, Violet.
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quixote says:
Oh how sad! So sorry to hear that.
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LabRat says:
Oh no. You must be absolutely devastated.
I’ve pulled vigils like that for exactly the same reasons… it hasn’t ended so tragically for me. Yet.
Be kind to yourself.
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cabochon says:
I am so sorry you’ve lost this wonderful friend.
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Violet Socks says:
Just talked to vet after postmortem. Molly had a racquetball size mass on her liver. Doctor said it ruptured last night and the internal bleeding or whatever caused the rapid death. She had had a lighter bout of illness after Thanksgiving, but we couldn’t figure out the etiology at the time — blood work didn’t show anything, nor did x-rays. Now we know that the Thanksgiving illness was probably a minor rupture that healed over. Then last night the mass just completely ruptured.
Vet says the mass was in a place where it was virtually inoperable, even if it had been detectable on ultrasound. And he says it probably just grew in the past few months. He also says there was nothing I nor anyone else could have done last night.
I am beyond devastated. Molly was my daughter.
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Val says:
((Massive amounts of greater sympathy))
I know that helpless feeling all too well.
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cellocat says:
I am so sorry, Violet. That loss is such pain and grief. I’m sorry you’re suffering it now.
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Gayle says:
I’m so sorry.
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elliesmom says:
Ellie and I are both very sad for you. When my last dog died, I said I could never love another dog as much as I loved her. But then I met Ellie who licked away my tears and sneaked into my heart before I had a chance to tell her that I could never love her. I expect to be devastated again in the future, but it’s worth it. Molly’s going quickly is hard on you because you had no time to prepare, but it was a blessing for her. And her love for you and yours for her hasn’t gone anywhere. It’s still in your heart.
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Tina says:
Very sorry to hear about Molly.
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Lia says:
So sorry about your sweet Molly. Wishing you solace and support in your grief.
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Toonces says:
Oh god, VIolet, that’s so awful. I’m so, so sorry for you. It’s never easy but when it’s unexpected… *big, big hugs*
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Bedelia Bloodyknuckle says:
I know what it is like to lose a pet. :( My condolences to you, Miss Socks
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Carmonn says:
God, I’m so sorry.
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Cyn says:
Violet, I am so very sorry. Words don’t do justice to the pain you are feeling. Life sucks, but life is all we have. I hope that you realize this would have been the outcome no matter what you did. I wish you peace and wonderful memories of a beautiful daughter.
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lynnerkat says:
I am so, so sorry. It just hurts. I’ll be thinking of you. Take care.
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Kate Smith says:
Oh, Violet, I am so sorry.
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LabRat says:
She was a gorgeous bi-black.
I grew up with shelties… they can be marvelous, marvelous dogs.
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Violet Socks says:
Thank you all so much. I am a wreck. I have no idea what I’m doing.
LabRat, Molly was pretty much the best dog who ever lived. There has never been a sweeter angel. The vet has taken care of Molly for 8 years, and he said to me on the phone today what an amazingly sweet, sweet, dog she had always been. A credit to her breed, he said. He is very fond of his patients and very loving. He was pained and shocked this morning when he arrived and heard that Molly had died in the night.
I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself. I have no idea what to do with my life.
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Delphyne says:
Oh, no, Violet…I am so, so, so very sorry to hear about this and offer my deepest condolences. Molly was a beautiful soul and it must be so painful to lose her so suddenly. Please take care of you and, as painful as it is, know that Molly knew you loved her completely.
I am so sorry, Violet. RIP beautiful little Molly.
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Sameol says:
She’s beautiful. I’m terribly sorry, what an awful year you’ve had.
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no pasaran says:
Violet, I’m so sorry for your loss. I know there are no words that can lessen the pain that you are feeling but just know that Molly was so fortunate to have had you in her life.
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Mojave_Wolf says:
I am so horribly sorry, Violet. Our dogs are our kids too, and I know how truly horrible this is.
It’s probably not much comfort right now that at least she had a long, happy life where she knew she was loved and with someone she loved, but unless you believe in the possibility of an afterlife (and I’m pretty certain all dogs have a wonderful one if there is such), it’s the only comfort I can give.
My heart goes out to you both.
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Catherine D. says:
Aw, crap. I’m so sorry.
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purplefinn says:
Violet, I’m so sorry. She sounds like she was a wonderful dog, friend, companion. Wishing you strength and comfort to deal with this great loss.
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jael says:
i’m so sorry violet. she sounds like one of the very best. i’m glad she had you, and you her.
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djmm says:
I am so very sorry for your loss. I know it is small comfort, but it does not sound like there was anything that could have been done for her and by dying in her sleep, she might have passed with absolutely no pain.
In time, the life that you spent together and the memories you made together will warm your heart. But I know it must be so painful for you now. ((Hugs and sympathy))
djmm
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LabRat says:
You just lost a family member, and one that was more a part of your daily life, and emotional life, than most are. Of course there’s a smoking crater through the middle of your life.
I don’t know if it would help you or hurt you right now, but I know a website by one sheltie kennel that always makes me smile and think of the great dog I had when I was little. Good stories, and some good breeding notes too.
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Adrienne in CA says:
Oh, Violet, I’m very sorry you lost your beautiful, dark eyed girl. What an awful shock for you, and just unfair. At least the vet was able to explain what happened. I’m feeling grateful for Molly’s sake that you were near her all night, and that her senses were filled with your love for her.
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Leslie says:
So sorry to read about this. What a beautiful dog and I’m grieving right with you.
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snow black says:
Dear Violet, I’ll be holding you and your sorrow for Molly in my thoughts. You are not alone.
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Sweet Sue says:
Violet, I’m sorrier than I can say about the death of beautiful Molly and your pain.
When my nearly eighteen year old cat died, I was so sad and disoriented, too.
The shock will wear off and the sadness will ease but it takes time. There’s nothing for it but to go through the grieving process-allow yourself to grieve and bay at the moon if you want to.
You are bereft, but someday-someday, it will get better. -
Susan says:
Violet, I’m so very sorry for your loss of Molly. Please hang onto the knowledge that she knew that she was greatly loved and that none of us can ask more than that from life.
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parallel says:
Oh Violet, I’m so sorry. And like others have said what a beautiful dog, and do take care of yourself.
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Lorna Youngs says:
I am so sorry to hear of Molly’s death. I, too, had a sheltie named Molly who died a year ago. She was 13 and her death was not unexpected, but the pain is the same — the loss of such unconditional love is unbearable.
my heart goes out to you.
Lorna
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Violet Socks says:
Thank you all so much for your comfort and kindness.
Adrienne, I am actually tormenting myself because Molly was outside the back door on a rug instead of next to me in the house. Of course I had no idea she was dying; I put her outside because I thought that the next thing would be diarrhea.
I have NEVER put her outside. But she’s never been sick like this before, except for the dress rehearsal after Thanksgiving, but even then she wasn’t this sick, this nauseated. After Thanksgiving she threw up, and then commenced the flux. Took her to the vet and he did tests but nothing showed up. When it ended I hoped it had been a bug that worked through her system.
When she started throwing up Thursday night I thought, okay, not a bug. There is an illness here and it’s back. My concern was just to get her to the vet before she became dehydrated. I had no idea she was dying. No idea.
After she’d thrown up everything and then some late Thursday night (1 am Friday morning), she seemed to want to come back in the house. So she did, but then she started throwing up again. Poor baby, she was sicker than I’ve ever seen her. I lay down on the floor with her and she leaned her forehead against mine and I looked into her eyes. She was so sick. And I carried her back outside to put her on the rug by the door, because I thought she was going to continue to be sick. I lay with her outside and leaned my head against hers and her eyes were so bloodshot. I didn’t understand what was happening but knew she was more nauseated than I’d ever seen her.
I came inside and watched her through the glass, because I thought the main thing was she needed to rest. Just lay down and rest, I thought, and then I will take you to the vet and he will give you fluids.
And so she lay down to rest, and then eventually stretched out on her side to sleep the way she does. And after she did that I didn’t go outside again because I didn’t want to wake her. I watched her through the window, and then after awhile I briefly lay down myself to just rest until it was time to drive. Not sleep, just rest my body. I thought about Molly and the drive to the vet and worried about her feeling carsick when she was already nauseated. I wondered what I could do to make the drive easier.
And then I got up and walked outside to get her and she was dead. She was DEAD! Dead! Dead! How could this be? She was in her sleeping position but DEAD!!!
I torment myself that she didn’t die in my arms, that she died outside when I wasn’t looking at her. Torment myself. I know it makes no sense, there is nothing to blame myself for because I had no idea she was dying, but I do anyway.
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jjmtacoma says:
What beautiful soulful eyes she has in that picture. I can see she was a great dog and friend.
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Lorna Youngs says:
Please don’t torment yourself by going over her death. I lost another Sheltie, Bonnie, to a ruptured tumor. The night before she died, I felt her pawing at my bed wanting to get up. she was elderly and couldn’t jump up any longer. My mother had just died a few months before and as I packed her things, I had hurt my back and didn’t want to hurt it anymore than I had,so I told her to go and lie down. In the morning I found her. Her gums were white. She was in shock. I scooped her into my arms and laid her in the car. The vet was only two miles down the road, but she had no heartbeat. The vet told me that the cascade of events that begins when DIC begins can’t be reversed. There is nothing I could have done. You did everything you could. She knew you loved her.
Lorna
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cellocat says:
Oh Violet. I’m so sorry you’re feeling that way. I’m crying reading what you wrote.
My boyfriend once had a cat I tried and tried to save with weeks of force feeding and fluid injections. I spent a couple of weeks before that trying to convince him to take the cat to the vet. It never once occurred to me to do it myself. Had I done so, it’s fairly likely that Oliver would still be alive. When the vet said, after putting him down, that I had done everything I could, I wanted to punch her. It wasn’t the truth.
It’s so easy to feel terrible guilt when a pet is sick and/or dies. And while I did a lot wrong with Oliver, you did nothing wrong with Molly. But right now that doesn’t matter to your heart.
I know this may not help, but you did your best. I wish you peace.
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Toonces says:
Violet, believe it or not, sometimes loved ones have a hard time dying in front of those they are close to and will wait until they have a moment to themselves. Honestly. I’ve seen it many times. I know that doesn’t make it any easier. We had to put our family dog down after he was very sick for a year and unfortunately everything didn’t conclude in a neat, no-loose-ends kind of way for me. I still have feelings about what I should have done many years later. Molly was loved her whole life though, and that one night doesn’t change that, so please try not to be too hard on yourself. I’m so sorry for your loss and that it happened in a way that’s so difficult to wrap one’s head around.
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LabRat says:
I lost my best friend cat three months ago. Just lately I have begun to be able to think about him without tears again, though right now is not one of those times.
We went through about two months of trying to track down what seemed like a series of solvable problems. He had a bit of crud in the corner of his mouth and seemed off, so we took him in. Couple of rotten teeth, infected root. Antibiotics, dental, antibiotics. He seemed better for a time, then crud started coming from his nose. Osteomyelitis! The infection backed up into his sinuses, was in his bones! More antibiotics, stronger this time, and I warmed cotton in hot water and sponged the mix of blood and pus away from his nostrils several times a day. He got better, stronger. Even the vet said how much better he was doing.
Then he seemed to plateau. Then the vet took more x-rays and the bony tumor was big enough to be visible that time. The infection was riding the edges of it as it spread forward, back, down… eating his face away from the inside out. The pain had to have been unimaginable, had to have started long before I noticed there was anything wrong. I put him down the same afternoon and listened to his last struggles to breathe past the mass extending down into his throat and thought about how there had been no painkillers, and how good he had been for his medicine.
I don’t mean to tell you a horror story. I dwelled on his death and my part in it for a long time. I know rationally I did everything I could have done, known everything I could have known, and gave him the last thing I could when I knew better. It hasn’t stopped an iota of the pain or guilt of processing it.
We are our animals’ caretakers, their guardians, their lives are in our hands. You were the best of that kind and that is why you now feel you have failed when you didn’t.
Molly knew what she had as well as you knew what you had in her. Even if you weren’t there right that moment, you were there for just about all she was aware for, as well as the whole rest of her life leading up.
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Violet Socks says:
LabRat, this was bone cancer? My god.
When I was talking to the vet about Molly, it took me a few moments to process that he was saying she had liver cancer. The mass was a malignant tumor on her liver. So now I’ve been reading up on primary liver cancer, trying to understand what happened.
Why don’t humans die of primary liver cancer that springs up suddenly in a few months and then ruptures in the night and they’re dead in a matter of hours? Without anybody having any idea there is cancer? I have never heard of such a thing happening.
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Violet Socks says:
And aside from the bout of sickness after Thanksgiving, there was no indication Molly was sick. In fact she was like a puppy. Playing and energetic and happy and sweet. Right up until she started throwing up Thursday night. I am hugely grateful for this, hugely grateful that she didn’t suffer long. But the relentlessly analytical part of my brain keeps trying to figure out what happened medically. Sudden rupture of cancerous tumor, death in a matter of hours. I have never heard of this happening.
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Adrienne in CA says:
Echoing assurances that you gave Molly the best care she could have had. Violet, remember that dogs can smell you through the door (and probably down the street), so yes, she did know you were near.
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LabRat says:
Yes, osteosarcoma. Nasty, not common but common enough.
If you want medical, as far as I know she didn’t have liver cancer technically, she had a hemangioma or hemangiosarcoma that was on her liver. They can happen anywhere, but the liver is one common spot for fatal ones. They happen a lot more in dogs than they do humans and they’re essentially an area of vascular tissue that grows like a cancer; a semi-organized knot of blood filled vessels prone to bursting. Most of the time the only reason people find them ahead of that happening is they’re close to the skin and form a lump, or are found on ultrasound for something unrelated.
They seem to be not-uncommon but a lot less likely to be the malignant version in humans. I was once unwillingly told all about the one an acquaintance had on his wrist that supposedly could have killed him were it to burst.
The only other reason I know any of this is that the canine hemangiosarcomas are commoner in large breeds, including mine, and a breeder I know lost her beloved foundation stud when he went to lie by the fire after a tryst and never got up again. Same thing happened to him as to your Molly.
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Violet Socks says:
LabRat, thank you for that. Thank you. The vet never used the term “hemangiosarcoma,” but now that I look it up, that is precisely what he was describing. Thank you. This helps. (ETA: Of course it’s possible he did use that term early in the conversation, but I was so upset and addled it went right over my head.)
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tinfoil hattie says:
Dear Violet,
You are suffering so. You took the best care you could of poor Molly, and that includes letting her outside. Most likely, she died soon thereafter, peacefully. You did not abandon her; you cared for her.
It is a horrible shock to lose her so suddenly, and I’m so, so sorry.
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kathel says:
Violet, you and Molly have been on my mind since you first posted the news. I have no comfort to give, except that I’ve felt what you’re feeling and I wish I could give you the strength that time gave me, eventually. Just … please forgive yourself. You loved each other, and that’s so much greater fortune than so many animals have. She didn’t die alone; she died in your family. I promise you she knew that, and I hope you can accept that too. Please be well.
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bluelyon says:
Oh Violet, I just saw this tonight. I’m so sorry that you have lost your beloved Molly. Words cannot express. But let me second what everyone else is saying here – you were an excellent and loving mom to Molly and she knew that.
My heart goes out to you. We lost our two oldest this year – Daisy our 13 1/2 year old Chessie/Aussie mix and Missy, our 13 1/2 year old marmalade long-hair, within two weeks of each other.
We make a bargain of sorts in choosing to bring these wonderful animals into our lives. We know that eventually our hearts are going to be shattered in a million pieces when we have to say good-bye, and yet we do it anyway. The heartbreak is always at the end. In the meantime, it’s only love.
I wish I could hug you in person.
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Ciardha says:
Oh Violet, my heart just aches, in 1995 my dog Ralph died and he was so much a member of the family I still mourn him a bit in my heart and I still can not bring myself to get another pet, it was such a loss. Our family dog Ralph (a mutt who looked remarkably like your Molly- he was part border collie part Cocker Spaniel) was an incredibly good natured dog too- playful and friendly up to his sudden death at approximately 18 1/2 years old. We’d noticed he seemed to be thinner,kind of frail feeling that summer, and he seemed to be falling more, but otherwise was as playful as he had been the past few years. Then suddenly he could no longer climb the stairs- while I was away at work on a Sunday my mother (who didn’t work Sundays) heard him pitfully crying at the bottom of the basement steps (he always slept in the basement). When she saw he couldn’t climb the steps, she carried him upstairs. He then seemed okay, wagging his tail and cheerfully following mom around. He could still manage to go down the steps when we took him out to relieve himself. We carried him back in, and that night we later discovered he slept on the top step where we last saw him that night. We didn’t hear him whine as we left for work that morning but we figured that he had made his way all the way down the steps and into the laundry room (where he often slept in his dog bed) and with his increasing deafness (due to his advanced age) just hadn’t heard us. We worried that he would wake up and do the same thing he’d done Sunday morning but no one would be there to carry him up. (He was never fully housebroken so he slept downstairs,where the tile floors were easy to clean up) I arrived home first and heard fainting wimpering at the basement door. I opened the door and he looked up at me with the most sad look on his face, he had lost control of his bladder and had wet himself. I wrapped him up in a cheap throw rug and brought him upstairs. I knew in my gut he was dying and waited for mom to get home. I took a picture of him, knowing in my heart it would be the last, but I wanted to have a image of him still alive. When mom got home we took him to the vet and the vet put Ralph to sleep while mom and I petted him. The vet said what probably happened was that everything just starting failing at once, first the arthritis just reached the point where he just couldn’t move anymore, then his kidneys failed, he said by the time we brought him in his other organs were failing, he wouldn’t have lived another 12 hours…
Writing out that about his last two days still hurts almost as bad as it did back in 1995, as much as my grief over losing my mother suddenly to a blood clot to her heart ten years later. It makes me upset how some people don’t realize pats are family members, the grief is just as strong when you lose them.
Violet, grieve as much as you need to.
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jjk says:
Molly was a such a beauty, especially those eyes. I am so sorry -
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nemo52 says:
I’m so sorry, Violet.
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Swannie says:
Violet, am so very sorry for your loss . My kitty of 17 years died , some time ago , and I still wish I could hold her … they mean so much to us , if there are no animals in the afterlife I really will not go ..
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Cyn says:
Violet, don’t torment yourself. The relationship between you and Molly was filled with love and respect. You for her and her for you. She would be very unhappy to know you are tormenting yourself. One of the things I have always thought about death is that it easier to die than to think that those you loved so dearly are grieving.
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Shanti says:
So sorry, Violet! I lost two of my Great Danes over the last two years and it still hurts! My thoughts are with you!
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Nadai says:
I am so, so sorry, Violet. Molly was a beautiful dog. You were both lucky to have each other.
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Hilary says:
*big hug*
This is terrible Violet, I’m so sorry you’re going through this :( She was a beautiful dog. I’m sending warm thoughts your way. -
snow black says:
Still thinking of you every day.
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Siskatz says:
I know what it is to lose your furbaby and I pray the pain will ease soon even though there will be many weeks of crying and many more weeks of what if. But I hope you know that Molly felt your love always and she was comforted by you especially on her last night. She passed in her sleep and did not have to go through more pain and probing at the vet. I know you feel guilty but you have to let that go.
My very first kitty, Sylvester, had chronic renal failure at 15 but I kept him alive for a year with treatment. He got sick the Friday before Labor Day weekend 2007, I took him to the vet (he hated this vet) and they checked his blood. He was exhausted but he fought the vet anyway and my heart was breaking. His hematocrit level was so low the vet said he needed a transfusion but he was so weak and I did not want to leave him there so I took him home and administered fluids myself to see if he would rebound like he had before. But he did not. His body did not process the fluids and I had to put him to sleep first thing Monday. I’m crying right now retelling this because I still think that he suffered and I should have put him to sleep that Friday. But we do what we can. I know he knew I loved him and I like to think he knows now that I was doing what I thought was best at the time.
You were both blessed to have each other, to have shared so many wonderful memories, hope you will find comfort in this love and in knowing that she is no longer suffering.
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gxm17 says:
Such a wonderful picture, Molly looks like a total sweetheart. My heart goes out to you, Violet. We lost one of our cats to liver cancer on xmas eve a few years back. It came on so suddenly, much as you describe. I’m so sorry for your loss.
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Jenny D says:
I’m so verry sorry for your loss. Knowing that she had a good life and that she was happy and feeling well for the greatest part of it will help you later, even if you can’t feel it yet.
Last year I lost three cats over a period of 15 months. In one of the cases I later realised that Tusse had been in a lot more pain than I had understood, and I still feel guilty over holding on to him too long. You don’t need to have that grief with Molly; she was happy and well until the very last hours of her life.
My thoughts are with you.
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Sweet Sue says:
I used a mantra when my beloved cat/daughter died and it really helped.
“Home, Safe, Happy.”
Please check in when you can bear to, Violet, we’re all concerned about you. -
Violet Socks says:
Just want to thank all of you for your amazing support and kindness. Reading this thread is like a group therapy session for all of us who have lost our beloved animals. I’m sorry I don’t have more to say. I just can’t really come up with any words right now. Just sort of muddling through, getting the Christmas stuff done.
Thanks to you all for being the most wonderful commentariat in the world.
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quixote says:
Well, I’ll bet the holidays were way tougher than they would otherwise have been, but at least they’re over. Onward? (For me that’s onward to my favorite arm chair surrounded by cups of hot chocolate.)
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monchichipox says:
Here’s where we all chip in with our own pain. Last Summer I had to put down my dog who was a collie. I’ve only ever had collies because I like their sweetness. I’m not big on guard dogs or barkers. I always like a dog that would show a burglar where the jewels are for a friendly pat on the head. My dogs have always just loved everyone.
Having to be the one to decide made it a shade worse. What made it even worse was that I kept her alive probably for about six months more than I should have. Oh God I was actually doing things like lifting her down the porch steps so she could sit on her favorite spot on the lawn.
I just couldn’t let her go until it became so out of hand that even I saw it. I have the pain of her death and the guilt of keeping her alive so long. I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself I just didn’t know what else I could do.
It’s been a while and I still can’t even bring myself to pet another animal. Pathetically over dramatic but I just can’t help it.
I’m actually starting to cry now. Deepest sympathy.
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Susan says:
My sixteen-year-old began to lose weight. Was told that it was natural and that I should try to tempt her with human food goodies. Two days before I left for a European vacation, she started to walk funny. The funny walk was gone before we made it to the vet. He said it might have been arthritis. So, I left on my trip. Two days later, th cat sitter took her to the vet because she was walking funny again. When I came home a week later, I was told that she was dying of old age and that I should bring her in every day to have fluids injected and that she would probably die within a week. Eight months later, the next March, she was still hanging on. I had cut down the visits to three times a week but I was still getting her injected with fluids. Her condition was unchanged. I went out of town, leaving my ktty-girl boarding at the vet. About the third day that I was away, when I called to check in, the vet got on the phone and said that she was very sick and that the vet tech had thought she was dead. I refused to pay the $750 it would take to get home two days earlier. I picked her up Monday, spent the rest of the day and the night with her and had her euthanized the next day. It was awful. I felt like I had kept her alive for too long and then deserted her when she was too sick. In fact, what I did was love her as much and for as long as I could. She knows that she was loved and none of us can do more than that.
Five months later, my other seventeen-year-old kitty baby began to succumb to her two cancers which she had been suffering for three years. She, too, knew that I loved her dearly.
It’s been six months now. I think that I may be ready to get a couple of new kittens or a small dog. Imo, nothing stands in for having a small life dependent on us.
You and your daughter dog were very lucky that she wasn’t sick for months. She knew you loved her. That’s what’s important!
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Gayle says:
Happy new year VIolet
I hope you are feeling a bit better.
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Susan says:
Happy New Year, Violet!
I, too, hope that your heart is a little lighter.
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blondie says:
Just saw this now.
I am so sorry for your loss. She was beautiful, and I’m sure you were a very good dog mom who gave her a wonderful life. Perhaps the greatest tragedy of loving dogs is that their lives are just too short. -
Ugsome says:
Violet, I’m sorry for the loss of your beloved dog.
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cabochon says:
I can’t stop thinking about you. Those of us who have been blessed by the love of an animal friend know what their passing does to their loyal human. I have tears in my eyes thinking of your loss. Molly had a most excellent friend in you.
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Chris Clarke says:
I am so sorry to hear this, Violet.
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Ann Bartow says:
Sorry to be so late with condolences. I’m so sorry. Your love for Molly was strong and I know you helped her have an excellent life. Take good care of yourself.
