Why I stopped justifying my grief in losing Layla the Wonderdog

This is the squishiest, cutest face I have ever known. This…is Layla the Wonderdog. The epitome of love and loyalty wrapped up into the sweetest boxer dog ever known. Yes, I am biased. She is/was my one and only.

Seeing this loving face now conjures up such a mixture of emotions, both pure love and painful longing to snuggle with my baby girl once again. My camera is filled with these moments, now bittersweet.

We adopted Layla in August 2011. Following a 10+ hour long drive home from vacation, we dropped off our suitcases and jumped back into our car to drive another 2+ hours to pick up our then 7-week-old puppy. While we had cats and 2 young boys at home, Layla was our first dog. We had no idea how she would change our lives. But change our lives, she absolutely did!

From the rambunctious puppy years, tearing through our house like a wild banshee and chewing anything you could get your teeth on to the awkward teenage years when she awkwardly tried to fit in the same spaces she once did as a puppy, she stole all hearts her path crossed. With her gentle yet firmly protective spirit, her big personality was omnipresent in our home and in the neighborhoods we lived.

How many other dogs are more recognizable and known than their human parents/owners?

How many other dogs have people from different neighborhoods checking in on them?

How many other dogs have blog posts about them?

Layla the Wonderdog did.

Since the summer of 2020, Layla has had health issues. What started out as one terrifying seizure, transformed into a slow-progressively debilitating process of absolute dependency on the humans who surrounded her to get through her days. This once exceedingly playful and energetic dog who had a minimum of 2 (upwards to 5 during the start of the pandemic!) walks per day lost her ability to walk altogether sometime this past summer. It’s funny to think back how none of us even remember the day it happened as it was so progressive and slow… when did she stop walking? When did she stop running around with toys? When did she stop signaling she needed to go outside for potty, or even know when she needed to go potty?

Dogs are such amazingly beautiful creatures who live to make us happy. That is it. They live to make us happy. We are their entire world and never ever did I doubt this truth for sweet Layla the Wonderdog. Her body was failing her, but her spirit was always 100% boxer enthusiasm, despite what her body would let her do at the end.

I have no doubt she would’ve gladly stayed in that state, accepting she could no longer go on walks or frolic in our yard if Lymphoma hadn’t entered her body. That was the game-changer and ender…..

Within a few weeks, the small non-descript lumps under her neck tripled not only in size but in quantity, threatening to cut off her ability to eat or breathe. Lymphoma was making it necessary for us to make a decision we didn’t want to make, and one Layla was unwilling to make on her own. To let go…and cross to Rainbow Bridge. I really pray/hope there is a rainbow bridge or I am gonna be really really pissed!

Watching her let go is the most painful experience I have had. I will not apologize or attempt to make anyone else understand how I have been processing this or how hard it has been, that is the final gift Layla gave me is the clarity that for those I need to explain, you are not welcome in this space.

For nearly 2 1/2 years, our world in some very specific ways revolved around Layla. She required so much care, and needed us, without ever so much of a whimper or snarl or any sort of complaint, our work/social/life revolved around her. Plans were canceled or changed. Vacations postponed. Work adjusted so we could be here for the dog who had willingly and selflessly given so much to us. From carrying her down the stairs in the morning to putting her in “house panties” aka doggie diapers to giving her multiple medications multiple times a day to adjusting her on her bed since she couldn’t do it alone, to my sleeping with her for the last few weeks of her life…she was the center of our world.

Now….. I feel a little lost.

I asked for a sign near the end and was given just that. The last night, she struggled for hours and hours, and I could do nothing. I just sat with her and assured her she had done her job, she had loved beyond measure and her work was done. Her work was done. She made us all better people and really taught us how to love without condition and show patience beyond measure.

I read recently “what is grief if not love enduring” and feel like that so perfectly resonates with how I am feeling. When someone asks me “are you getting another dog” I fight the innate visceral response of “would you say that if you just lost a child” because my rational thought knows others don’t see their fur-babies like I saw Layla the Wonderdog. Dogs “are” replaceable, and may be some are? But for me…. she isn’t.