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Odin's Journey


1 Month Across the Rainbow Bridge


September 20th, 2017 Posted 2:45 am

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Today marks 1 month since Odin crossed the Rainbow Bridge. I wish I could say it has gotten easier. I guess it kind of has. I can at least talk about him. Saturday night my husband and I went to a wedding. When we got home we sat up and talked until midnight. I opened up about how badly I was struggling with out Odin. He reminded me that the way Odin passed away is something every owner hopes for. Odin died peacefully in his sleep on his bed. I didn’t have to make the decision for him. Tommy mentioned that even though I always said I would do right by him, I would have never been able to make that call. He was right. Odin didn’t want me to have to decide, so he made the decision for me. I told him about the loneliness. To feel lonely in a house with 2 dogs, a cat and a baby seems absurd, but it’s the truth. Every time I turned around that giant goof ball was right there. We used to joke that we had a Norma and Norman Bates thing going on. Even if I sat in the living room, where he wasn’t allowed, he would lay by the gate in a certain position so that he could still see me. He would hang his head over the gate and arch his neck to watch me as I walked up the stairs. His absolute favorite place to be was my office. He had his bed in there by my desk, he would lie next to me as I spent countless hours on my computer. In our old house he got to sleep in our room. Every morning Tommy would get up to shower before work and Odin would immediately jump up onto the bed in his spot. I would wrap my arms and legs around him like a monkey or he would lay his huge head on my chest and snore in my face. So basically, he was obsessed with me and I couldn’t help but love every second of it.

His urn came yesterday. I waited to open it until I laid the baby down for a nap. It weighed a crap ton, solid black marble. It’s absolutely perfect. I transferred his ashes then sat in silence with the urn in my lap. I rested my palms on the top of it as the sting behind my eyes returned. The knot in my throat followed. I rested my forehead where my hands were and cried….and cried and cried and cried. I hugged that giant marble box as tight as I could. Once the sob fest was over I placed the urn on the table under our projector screen, in the living room I spend most of my time in, where he wasn’t allowed when he was here physically. Now he doesn’t have to strain his neck to see me. He’s right in front of me.

I’ve decided to share a few of my favorite pictures of him, obviously these aren’t all of them I will share more as I keep posting.

Odin and his dad the night he came home.

Odin’s first bath

Caught red pawed

Odin and his daddy

Odin, his best friend Solomon and I doing what we do best (the Puppy Bowl wore us out)

A literal dog pile in bed at the old house.

His favorite place. My office with me and his siblings.

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In the silence of night


September 13th, 2017 Posted 2:48 am

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I am missing him more than ever today. UPS dropped a box at my door this morning. I was hoping it was the urn but as I approached the door, I suddenly started hoping it wasn’t. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t ready to see those ashes again and the thought of moving them killed me. Thankfully it was a package for Tommy.

I just want to wrap my arms around his neck like I have so many times in the last 6 years. He was always there when I was hurting so badly. I keep telling myself he’s still around, but it’s not good enough. I want to snuggle with him again. I was hoping I’d have a dream about him by now, but it hasn’t happened.

I keep second guessing myself. 3 weeks later and I’m still doing that. I’ve run through every scenario and every hint I may have missed that maybe would have made me diagnose the cancer sooner and then I could have saved him. Maybe I should have done a blood transfusion that night. Would that have made a difference? I was supposed to have a year and a half post amp. Not 2 months. I hope he knows I didn’t mean to miss any signs. I tried the best I could.

I fought as hard as I could for him so that he didn’t have to….

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Freya and I Got Out

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September 12th, 2017 Posted 1:57 am

Last Thursday I walked into work with the same heavy heart that I’ve been carrying around for the past 3 weeks. Odin’s surgeon was scheduled to come in to do a surgery on a small dog. I haven’t seen him since Odin passed and I don’t believe he knows about it. I dreaded telling him because of how guilty he felt about not seeing the mass when he did the knee surgery back in February. The surgery he was coming in for ended up being canceled for that day.

I donated Odin’s Heartgard to the client who gave me the card, but I still had his Frontline that was out of Freya’s weight range. I was able to find a client to donate it to. For some reason putting the box in the chart for the client to pick up really hit me hard. That familiar sting behind my eyes started up and the lump in my throat returned. After work I had an appointment with my therapist. The first one since Odin died. I’ve been seeing her for a while due to an on going battle with Post-partum depression, 2017 hasn’t been my year.

When I sat down, the first thing she asked me was how I had been. The tears beat my words. “Well, my dog died” is what I said. There was an uncomfortable silence that felt like it went on for hours, but really it was only a few seconds. We immediately dove into the grief and how to handle it as well as taking care of myself as far as the PPD goes.

It’s not fair to feel so lonely when I’m constantly surrounded by amazing people and my 2 other pups. I’ve went from not talking about Odin to not talking about him enough. I can now say his name without tears, but my heart aches every time. I miss petting him so much. I miss asking him for a kiss and him giving me one, it was always my favorite thing I trained him to do.

I took Freya over to her brother’s house on Saturday. She was beside herself when she saw him. The two of them ran and ran and ran. They wrestled and chased each other. I felt so good to see her in all her husky glory. Seeing her brother really helped me too. Hugging him and kissing him felt so good. It’s as if he knew Freya and I were both hurting. His mom and I sat in lounge chairs in the grass as the two of them played for 3 hours. When we got home Freya was completely exhausted. I’ve seen her light come back a little bit. I think she’s on the mend.


Freya and her brother Cheeto

Cheeto and Freya deciding to switch moms. Featuring: Cheeto’s beautiful blue eyes!

Odin’s custom urn I ordered should be shipping out this week so hopefully I’ll have it soon. I hope having a proper urn for him will bring some closure, but I had thought getting his ashes back would do that and it didn’t. I also thought that maybe the tattoo would bring some closure, but it didn’t. Maybe I just need all 3 things to happen and then I’ll feel better. Who knows at this point.

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2 Weeks 1 Day


September 4th, 2017 Posted 3:38 am

We have officially crossed the 2 week threshold. I made it 24 hours without crying. By crying I mean physical tears, the sting behind my eyes was still there every once in a while. The knot was still stuck in my throat.

I returned to work on Thursday. My first full day back since he left.

It was one of the worst days of work I have had in a long time. I cried while talking to a co-worker about how I was really feeling rather than giving the fake “I’m alright” just so I don’t have to talk about it. I called that client to thank her for the card and offer Odin’s left over Heartgard for her pup. I cried when I heard her voice. I closed my eyes as I passed the room I said my final good bye to him in. There were a few times I needed to close my eyes and try to catch my breath as he crossed my mind. Being in the building made me think of him. He spent so many days here with me trying to get better and every one of those days he was so happy to be there no matter what happened.

After work I rushed out the door to my tattoo appointment. I had to reschedule the original time due to the hives. I sat on the tattoo table as the artist showed me the sketch of Odin’s paw print. I smiled tightly as he placed the print on my ankle. When we started I didn’t feel any pain. I thought for a second that maybe my turmoil from the entire day had just made me numb, but this was also my 6th tattoo so it doesn’t phase me anymore. The artist asked me how old my pup was when he passed. I briefly told him Odin’s story, fighting tears the entire time. There was something therapeutic about the entire experience. The paw print couldn’t have turned out more perfect.

I’ve been trying really hard to talk more about Odin in hopes that the sting will ease. Thursday night I told my husband, for the first time, how much I missed our boy. Later, I sat on the couch and told my mom about how much I missed him. It stung every time.

Friday morning I was putting my make up on as my mom and I chatted. I came to the conclusion that losing Odin was like, for lack of a better example, losing a limb of my own. I needed to learn to walk again on my own, which seems impossible without him. He was my soul mate and I feel completely cheated by this disease that took him away from me.

I am the surgery tech for Friday at work and on my second day back I saw that I had a grooming on the schedule. A 9 yr old rottweiler. My heart sank a little. I wasn’t ready for this, but I needed to be. Clearly the universe was trying to push me because I couldn’t do it myself. The big guy came in and we went through the motions. As I bathed him I told him about my Odin. I told him that he had never been a fan of baths either. After the bath we went outside to have a potty break, he chose to just sit in the grass to take a breather. I patted his big head and rubbed his ears just as I did for Odin so many times. At the end of the day his mom and dad came to pick him up. During check out the subject of Odin was brought up and I explained that I had recently lost him to cancer. Both clients were extremely empathetic of the entire situation. When I brought the big buy out to be reunited with his parents, his mom pulled me in for a big hug and then his dad gave me a kiss on the cheek thanking me for taking such good care of his boy. They both said if I ever needed it, they would bring their pup in specially for me. I was able to keep a smile the entire time, but when they left I had to let a few tears fall.

A part of me wonders if I’ll ever get through a day of work with out my heart falling into my stomach. The anger has subsided for now, but the agony of grief is still very real. I look at his pictures every day. Every night I place my hand on his box and tell him goodnight. Daily I’ll get on the floor with Freya and Tyr just to pet, hug, kiss and hold them.

Freya is still having just as hard of a time as I am. Her eating habits are not great. She lies in the basement alone most of the day. I contacted my friend who adopted Freya’s litter mate and we set up a play date for the two of them. I’m hoping it will help pull Freya from her slump. I don’t think I ever told Freya’s story on here. In 2013 my husband and I took on ten 3 week old husky puppies that were found under a shed after their mom was shot. The litter was eventually split up into two groups of 5 puppies. I kept 5 and another foster took on the other half. Bottle feeding 10 puppies was more than I could do so for their own good they needed to be split. Odin was by my side every step of the way. He would get up with me every 2 hours, follow me into the room they were all in and lay on my feet as I fed and pottied each one. He was there when they opened their eyes for the first time and gave reassuring kisses after their first baths. Freya has known Odin since the day she could finally see, so when he passed on I knew she was going to take it hard.

This is little Freya being bottle fed.

He was always my gentle giant. He loved his pups and he loved his kitty…..he even loved the baby chickens we hatched one time….our house is a zoo.

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9 Days


August 28th, 2017 Posted 6:44 pm

It has been 9 days since Odin crossed that bridge. The bridge that was once beautiful in my mind, but is now ugly. I caught myself thinking I needed to let him out before I got the baby’s bottle going this morning.

I promised myself I wouldn’t give up this blog. I apologize for going radio silent. I never realized that I don’t know how to grieve. I broke out in hives the Sunday night after Odin passed. They became so severe that I took 1 trip to the doctor and 2 trips to urgent care. My bed side table looks like a small pharmacy and I missed 2 days of work.

Clearly it doesn’t matter that I knew it was coming, him leaving I mean. I tried to deal with it how I deal with everything else. I fall, I cry, I get up, laugh a bit through the tears and move on. Not this time.

I tried distracting myself with activities, projects and visitors. It felt as if I was trying as hard as I could to be distracted every second I was awake. I gave myself no time to grieve after Saturday.

My husband, Tommy, came home from his trip Tuesday morning. The first thing he asked me was if I was okay. I said yeah, but deep down I wasn’t. I found a beautiful urn for Odin’s ashes once they came back. A black marble box with the Valknut symbol engraved on the side.

Thursday morning I got the text letting me know Odin was waiting for me at the clinic. I had every intention of going in to get him, but my body just couldn’t take it. I was bed ridden. I only woke up to go to the bathroom. Thank god for my mother who took over with the baby while Tommy was at work.

Friday morning after my second visit at Urgent Care, I went in to work to drop off my doctor’s note and pick up the ashes. I thought that maybe having him home would ease the sting. When I picked up that heavy box that contained his ashes I practically sprinted to the food room and fell to the floor, sobbing. It was as if I found him in my den all over again. I held him tight to my chest as the waves of silent tears rushed through.

My locker had a card from a client I’ve grown close to, who knows exactly how I was feeling. There was a rottweiler pillow and a small board book copy of ‘Good Dog Carl’ from a co-worker. I took the card but left the rest. I just had to get out of there as fast as possible. I was hugged by every co worker and even a client who was there for an appointment came back to hug me. The support was overwhelming.

The box sat on my center console the whole drive home. I spent the rest of the day in bed, with the box next to me.

Saturday morning I found myself becoming angry again. I wanted to wipe away every memory of him from my house. I didn’t want to see any reminder that he was gone from my life.

Disoriented is the only word that comes to mind when people ask me how I am. There is a GIANT hole missing in my every day routine. I don’t go say good morning to him in the den right away, I don’t take him out separately from the other dogs, I don’t have a 3rd bowl to fill, no meds to mash up in canned food. The bowl lies empty on a shelf, the un-used meds sit in the cupboard, the den remains an empty grave yard. I finally opened the door to that room, but it’s still hard to go in there, I hate it. I can clean those carpets, fill the room with furniture and pictures, but I will always hate that room.

Sunday morning I transferred his ashes to a temporary chest until his urn arrives and it about killed me. I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath, I cried again. I let everything go for a few minutes and then when the tears dried I placed him on the table next to his picture.

A thought did cross my mind, when does the grieving stop and it just becomes me feeling sorry for myself? I know I need to cut myself a break, it’s only been 9 days, but I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I’m trying to fill my head with memories but I can’t even talk about him in past tense.

I guess when it comes to feeling like crap, I am not a patient person.

My best friend is gone and I’m pissed.

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