Teddy

 

Almost eight years ago I received the gift of a little black
and white puppy. He was the cutest, softest, sweetest little guy. I named him
Teddy. It seemed fitting, he was as cute and soft as a teddy bear, and over the
years became my safety blanket and companion. He moved and traveled with me
everywhere I went. We moved a total of seven times during his lifetime. I spent
years in cities that were quite unfamiliar. At some points I didn’t have anyone
but him, but at all points I didn’t have much of anyone but him. I felt nervous
at night staying alone, but he brought comfort. I knew he would bark if he
heard anything, although he would also bark at nothing. His kisses and cuddles
brought joy when life contained heartbreak or loneliness. It became difficult
to feel homesick because he became my home. We went for long walks several
times a day. He taught me just how much I love the feel of salty warm air
during the night. We swam in the bay, ocean, and creeks. He would chase a stick
or ball, and felt little fear of the waves. I’d let him off the leash on the
beach and he would run like mad as fast as he could, and for some reason loved
to dig his face into the sand covering his nose and lips. I taught him how to
go down the slide at out apartment complex. He would climb up by himself and
slide down. We took eight hour car rides from FL to TN many times. He refused
to sit anywhere but the driver’s side. I never minded.

 

 

Teddy loved me dearly. He was full of endless love and fun.
I’ll never forget how he would dig under the covers making the funniest sound,
or how he stood his legs on me to give hugs and kisses. I would tire of
throwing the ball, but he would demand by repeatedly putting the ball closer
and closer to me until I threw it. This was better than the occasional sticking
the ball under something so I had to get it out. He would nudge and bark loudly
until I got the ball for him. He was young at heart, this never changed.

 

 

 

After meeting Travis we learned Teddy had a very protective
side. I will never know if this was simply natural or a response from my fears
living alone. I’ve always had a feeling that it was a learned behavior. He
tried attacking Travis when he would step near me and Teddy was beside me. This
only happened if we were both sitting or lying down. He succeeded a few times
in actually attacking Travis, sometimes leaving marks or drawing blood. He did
this to my dad as well. He was always protecting me. After some time he would
attack your feet if you stepped too close to him while he was sleeping. We
noticed quickly that he did not like children. They made him feel uneasy, and
he would become nervous if one came near while indoors. He was pretty much fine
with anyone outdoors, not sure he ever attacked anyone outside. I became very
nervous when we discovered we were having a baby. I talked to my veterinarian
and a few dog trainers. I was not sure what would happen, but obviously taking
risks was not a possibility. Teddy stayed separated from Isla at all times.
This was easier when she was little, but once she started walking around it
became sad. We had to lock him up behind a gate or keep him outside. He would
bark continuously sometimes, not understanding why he could not be with us. If
Isla stepped near the gate he would growl, or if she walked by the window when
he was outside he would attack the door. When we found out about baby number
two we knew something had to happen. Teddy could not live behind a gate. I
hated who I was with him, always shushing him, or locking him up. We tried
several things, even giving him to another couple. This did not work out
either. I think a lot, and I like to find solutions that work best for everyone,
and I tried so hard in this case, but I knew there were no safe options within
my home with my children. There would always be a risk, always. I felt odd
telling Isla to watch out when she would walk towards the dog gate or when she
would get down from the couch and Teddy was in the room. He was something she
had to fear, and no child should have anything or anyone in their home they
have to fear. I believe this more than anything.

This last week I struggled with how I would do this. I had
to, I would, but how? I’m great at repressing things, but those things in life
normally happened to me, not me taking action to do them. This was different.
Teddy was such a huge part of my life, beyond what I can explain to anyone. I
am guilty of not loving him enough these last years, and feeling frustrated,
and angry towards him. I could have never imagined this before. I feared something
happening to him. I honestly looked up if GPS chips or tags existed for dogs
because losing him would have been so awful. Travis told me over the years that
I had an irrational mindset of how long Teddy would live. I searched forever
trying to find a place to keep him during my wedding and honeymoon. I left him
at a place with camera I could log into, a tv playing animal planet in his
kennel, and made sure he got a space where he could access the outside. I
remember crying like a baby leaving him there and logging in to see him during
the trip. So, how did I get here? It must be maternal instinct, there is no
other way it could have happened. You think you could never put your dog
second, that they will stay right up there in the number one spot with your
children, but it doesn’t happen. I felt somewhat strong until Tuesday, knowing
what would happen the next day. I want to protect the child in my belly and not
get too upset, and I thought somehow I could block it out and just deal. I
would do it, just deal. Wednesday I kept myself busy. Travis took off work, we
played with Isla and the dogs outside, and I cleaned out under my bathroom sink.
I’ve been trying to rest, but it couldn’t happen Wednesday. It happened, and he
is gone. I have repeated to myself that it was the right thing to do. I had our
incredibly kind veterinarian come to the house to make it easier on him and us.
She explained that he would know nothing but our love, and this is true, but it
has lacked over the years, and I could have done better. I did love him. He
will always be incredibly special to me. I stayed mostly strong until Wednesday
night when I had nothing to distract me other than the baby moving in my belly.
I lost it. I’m losing it now, and I’m scared I won’t find peace. Yes, I was
protecting my children, and time will likely heal, but this feeling of cutting his
life short, probably in half, is awful, because he loved life.  I keep thinking there is something else I
could have done, or maybe this was simply wrong. I somehow justified it until
this point, but those thoughts are clouded by sadness and memories, and the
feeling of doing what I feared most happening for so many years. I’m absolutely
heartbroken. I don’t want sympathy, I know it will become bearable, but it’s
awful right now. At first I thought I would write and share this for anyone
going through the same thing, like it could provide support or comfort. Maybe
it could provide a place to not feel alone, but the comfort part is reaching. I
have always written when feeling sad or angry. I’m not one to reach out really,
so this is my sharing and healing. If you’re a praying person, I ask for
prayers. If you’re a friend, I ask for distractions. I pray for friends and
family all the time. I believe it works, and I believe it can be comforting
knowing people are praying for you, but there are some things that simply suck
and this is one of them. There will always be pain associated with it, but I
must be okay, I must move on to this next chapter without the pain I currently
feel in my chest. Thank you everyone for reading and for those who have reached
out.