View attachment 97867
Here's a gift I spent a while creating, to the kindly vet who helped lay Briggs to rest in our backyard, the shelter worker who kept up with Briggs every step of the way, and myself for losing such a valued and beloved member of our family. I still feel guilt every day over what happened. I hope to meet Briggs again some day, and love him once more.
I so sorry for your loss, and just want to give you a big hug CiCi.
The feeling of futility as a pet dies is something that I have felt the
bitterness of too. I still feel guilty over the death of my loyal, brave Cinnamon shepherd many years ago, and ask myself things like if only the signs of illness had been detected sooner, could we have extended his life?
Or if I had more money and kept going to different clinics, trying different places--then maybe a good cure could have been found. If only he had a really nice urn and burial that was worthy of him. I reflect on times
when I was away from him and he stayed with relatives of mine while I was in living situations where pets weren't allowed, and look back with regret on some time I missed out on that could been have spent with him. I
reproach myself about things I might have done better, and feel like a bad caretaker, though I am told that I am not.
Based on everything you have shared about your boy though it sounds like you took him in, rescued him from who knows what, and provided him with a safe home to live out his life in with good nututrition, medical care,
companionship, support and affection and made every consideration for his health and happiness, and did all you could to ease his suffering when his life was drawing to a close through no fault of your own. I see someone working very hard to do what was best for Briggs, and think of you as a dedicated pet parent who stepped up to the plate, and hearing how you're hurting inside I think makes your actions in the face of adversity and death even braver. I think the pain and voices of self critism you suffer are a testament to how seriously you took your job as being Brigg's mother, and how deeply you loved him, and that grief can only come from a place of love and good intentions. You're not a failure to me.
I admire how much love is in your heart CiCi. It's truly been moving seeing how you have remembered Briggs and celebrated his life with your flair, an all of this delightful art, and told stories about your friend that really male him live again. The picture of Briggs running free, flying on angel wings with all of the companions who touched your heart in a woods of light and rainbow seems like something out of What Dreams May Come. It's so sweet and lovely, very touching.
It sounds like you are going through a natural part of the human grieving process when we lose someone special to us, the survivor's guilt. It's not easy. I went into some of my worst years of depression after the death of of dog, and have friends and family members who have also taken these losses hard, a pet is part of the family, and it can affect us no differently than when a person dies.
You can heal though, and I think the art you create is not only a sensitive memorial, but also good way to express yourself and you're goimg through, turning some of the negative feelings into something positive and constructive. I think you are instinctively doing all the right things. Remember that he is free from pain now and with his ancestors, and joined with other dogs you loved, and he still lives on here with you in your heart and memory and inside of everyone who knew and loved him, he's preserved in ins photographs, the spots he liked to visit, any thing he ever played with and left behind you, every time you talk about him think of him, draw picture him and write about him he's there, and you will be together again one day.
I am giving my dog a hug right now, counting my blessings and saying a prayer both for you and Briggs.
