Goodbye, Louie Loesch

Proverbs 12:10

We lost Louie today.

Rather, we didn’t lose this wonderful, curious little pup, we gave him back to God after all of our efforts to heal him failed.

Everyone has a different doorway through which they exit this mortal plane. Some go peacefully in their sleep, others exit through the doorway of disease, still others through tragedy. Louie went through the brain tumor door. I wrote this in June, right after we’d learned the final prognosis and the only thing that helped my heart was exercising its pain by writing through it:

He may make it to Christmas and a little after, he might not. We know that his sweet little personality will change. He might forget how to give kisses. Or even forget us. I am preparing for this.

Louie did not make it to Christmas.

He made it in time to see his stocking hung by the chimney with care but not long after. I won’t go into the details, but the medicine slowing his brain tumor’s progress in killing him was also killing him. When Louie was to part from us was always ever on his time and for his sake, not on or for ours, and everyone is right: dogs let you know. Louie let us know. Before the remnants of his anti-seizure medication dissipated, before he was in too much pain or confusion to leave this world peacefully and forget who he was and who we were, we made that dreaded call. We were “prepared” but no preparation is really ever enough.

Our vet, from whom we got Louie and an expert on his breed, had been with us every step. Another of the medical staff made us comfortable in the office where we had first set our eyes on our precious pup. Louie left this plane fifteen minutes later. I smiled into his eyes, telling him how much I loved him while gently massaging his furrowed brow as he drew his final breath. Louie is such a protector, even as he grew sicker, and I wanted him to leave with no worries. It took a bit before I could leave him. Thank you to the lady doc who was so wonderful with Louie and with us in those final moments.

Our youngest son handled it so well, as did our oldest. It’s hard. We’re all in a funk and will be for a bit. Louie was one of us.

The hardest times for me won’t be the immediate ensuing days. They will be the quiet reminders that pop up when no one is looking: the scratches at the bottom corner of my office door where Louie would get huffy and try to get in after I’d shut the door for a conference call; the outline in the carpet by my side of the bed where his convalescence kennel sat once he began having seizures so I could monitor him at night; Rocco, carrying a toy, looking for his tug of war buddy.

I am grateful that I’m not writing about my kids or my husband — but that it’s my Louie, who I treat almost just as another person in my home, makes the pain is no less searing and I am not less gutted.

I know people who are going through worse right now. I know a friend preparing with their family to lose a parent. I know that by the time I finish this and you read it, another family will be devastated by a loss. We all have lost so much over the past two years that any loss by anyone, no matter the size, is a loss too much for all anymore.

Louie didn’t make it to Christmas, but his sweet little personality never changed. He didn’t forget how to give kisses. He never forgot who we were. He lived past his three-month prognosis by an additional three months.

That is the Christmas gift to outlast them all and for this I am most humbly, eternally grateful.

Thank you for helping us bear this journey with your kind words and prayers.

Louie basking in the sun for the last time this afternoon.

---

I have a relationship with DELTA Animal Rescue in California, a no-kill sanctuary whose mission I adore. Leo is a friend and they are dedicated to the sanctuary residents they rescue. He's one of the first people I spoke with after Louie’s diagnosis. God love the folks at DELTA.

Here are a few other shelters and rescues I like to support:

Back Roads Animal Rescue

Dallas Dog: Rescue, Rehab, Reform

Humane Society of North Texas