How many of us move along through life, with a pet, and don't quite see they have taken on a service dog aspect with us?
We move along with our trusted family friend and pet, and understand there is a deep bond. For me, they are never 'just' a pet.
Dylan was 14. 65lbs of put his body against mine when he OR I was in need.He died on Jan 10th.
Shortly after that (1 day) I took sick and had to have emergency surgery.
For some reason, my appendix waited until he was gone. It had been brewing towards infection for a while. ONE
day after Dylan left us/his death, it hit.
First I was grateful it waited until he left, and not left him in need
of support, both in presence, medical care and assurance that I had not also gone, like his pack mates-
for whom he grieved to point of becoming very ill. I was just so grateful that this waited. Coincidence?
In hindsight, I think not. But that is yet another topic.
In the days following his death, it hit me. He was truly performed as my service dog.
He calmed me, and *me him*.
*That last part was what led me to understate what he did for me and my brain wiring... It was mutual that support, and gosh he really understood that. So wise.
He went up to people in wheelchairs to rest his head against as a measure of comfort for them.
Even if he never met them before.
I never suspected just how much that was instinct, till recent reflection.
I had an aunt who didn't like dogs. One day he visited her and she watched him home in on others, be it in wheelchairs or walkers or on the benches outside my aunts facility.
She asked me why he wouldn't come up to her.
I said he knows instinctively that he is not liked by you. He won't come over to anyone that he senses doesn't like dogs. She at 101 raised her eyebrows and had a long think on that. She then asked... He knows? A dog knows that? I laughed and said yes. She held down her hand at that point and he looked at her questioningly. He walked over and sniffed, looked at her and sat there, waiting for confirmation. He never got it.
He had the title of service dog. But honestly, I didn't really think he was that for me, until I was hit with his death and his absence. In truth, I realized post death; He was an unsuspected and not fully realized strength of mine.
I thought I was keeping him together emotionally. He knew better. We kept one another together, mutually.
I was filling a mutual need and I thought his (need for support) was stronger than mine.
I was wrong. Boy was I wrong. Losing him is beyond rough. I would sacrifice anything to have him alive and well. His absence goes further though. It is like an abrupt drug withdrawal, of a very effective cure that has now been removed.
I lost my dog Dylan after almost a year of fighting to help him with Cushing's Disease.
It was such a honor to serve Dylan and so very comforting for both of us to care for him over the past years leading up to this illness. The vet tried to tell us to just drop him off for an IV and leave him there for an infection one month ago. I said no and insisted she put the IV port into his arm and I would administer all from home round the clock till he was able to take oral meds. I didn't want his life of connect and trust, to have a moment of feeling abandoned at the end, as the end approached in this chapter. The vet said she could not ask any pet parent to do this (every 4 hrs injecting meds and/or flushing the line) and I said nothing is out of the question for Dylan, for we have a trust and a commitment to one another. it is my honor to do this.
He loved life to the end, always the most social of my dogs. He was a seeker of humans.
When it became difficult for him to walk, I took him for a scan of his spin and legs to rule out pain, before encouraging him.
I managed to get him back to walking by offering him adjustments to his meds (which were overblown in use) and telling him that where is are the people, where are they, find them! He was loving life and socializing to the end.
Where others would be food motivated, for him the carrot was social motivation.
He introduced me to people that otherwise never would have connected with me.
In a sense he screened people for me, for if they took to his invite they were safe, more compassionate than many, and dog lovers, which for me is a very special type of people.
He bridged the gap so that their focus and scrutiny wasn't solely on me, but rather his antics.
Such a character. Once he met a person one time, he knew their scent. When we lived in Mexico he would seek out each
of the remembered 'friends' in a large crowded open market, by lifting his head, smelling the air and tracking each one to the point of finding them. If someone called me, he would respond if I couldn't hear, making sure I noticed that hello. I have a hearing loss so this was very unique. None of these skills were taught to him.
Our relationship intensified back in 2016, when we lost two dogs, his pack mates, one to a chewable preventive that caused kidney failure at age 2, and another to intentional poisoning (unbeknownst to me common in the country we were newly traveled to, unaware of their cultural opinion of dogs).
After that second death neither Dylan or I were ever the same. My husband also noted that he and I were damaged and it likely never would recover fully. from that traumatic incident. Husband is atypical and felt that way.
From that point on, in 2016, Dylan and I navigated those waters together. We supported one another and when that vest that said service dog went on him, I didn't really believe that I truly fit the bill, but now I believe I was in a state of denial.
Since his death on Jan 10th, my social anxiety has not had a buffer or calming balm. I know he is gone. He was a black dog and I still when a shadow moves I think he is there. I step off the bed into the night careful not to step on the dog that 'blended'.
So on top of the trauma of losing my best friend, and can't quite process this loss, I find those moments of anxiety in which I would find his head and body press against mine to calm me, gone.
So when is a pet not only not just a pet, due to the special bond we have and them being family....
But when is a pet an unsuspected service dog that is tuned into ones spectrum anxiety, able to cut short melt downs of all types with their response, for me that melt down is a freeze in place and internal.
I mentioned that question to my husband, and his response shocked me. He said he would be very stressed and go to Dylan for that backing out of that rough depressed or stressed mental place. He said he noticed Dylan wanted to do that for him as well, unbeknownst to me.
I am so lost these days and it has only been since January 10th. It's like being off meds that you took for years. Sudden withdrawal of benefits.
So really when is a pet more.... We already know they are family and not just a pet.
Does this happen often, that a pet is a service dog, be it categorized and acknowledged, or not?
We move along with our trusted family friend and pet, and understand there is a deep bond. For me, they are never 'just' a pet.
Dylan was 14. 65lbs of put his body against mine when he OR I was in need.He died on Jan 10th.
Shortly after that (1 day) I took sick and had to have emergency surgery.
For some reason, my appendix waited until he was gone. It had been brewing towards infection for a while. ONE
day after Dylan left us/his death, it hit.
First I was grateful it waited until he left, and not left him in need
of support, both in presence, medical care and assurance that I had not also gone, like his pack mates-
for whom he grieved to point of becoming very ill. I was just so grateful that this waited. Coincidence?
In hindsight, I think not. But that is yet another topic.
In the days following his death, it hit me. He was truly performed as my service dog.
He calmed me, and *me him*.
*That last part was what led me to understate what he did for me and my brain wiring... It was mutual that support, and gosh he really understood that. So wise.
He went up to people in wheelchairs to rest his head against as a measure of comfort for them.
Even if he never met them before.
I never suspected just how much that was instinct, till recent reflection.
I had an aunt who didn't like dogs. One day he visited her and she watched him home in on others, be it in wheelchairs or walkers or on the benches outside my aunts facility.
She asked me why he wouldn't come up to her.
I said he knows instinctively that he is not liked by you. He won't come over to anyone that he senses doesn't like dogs. She at 101 raised her eyebrows and had a long think on that. She then asked... He knows? A dog knows that? I laughed and said yes. She held down her hand at that point and he looked at her questioningly. He walked over and sniffed, looked at her and sat there, waiting for confirmation. He never got it.
He had the title of service dog. But honestly, I didn't really think he was that for me, until I was hit with his death and his absence. In truth, I realized post death; He was an unsuspected and not fully realized strength of mine.
I thought I was keeping him together emotionally. He knew better. We kept one another together, mutually.
I was filling a mutual need and I thought his (need for support) was stronger than mine.
I was wrong. Boy was I wrong. Losing him is beyond rough. I would sacrifice anything to have him alive and well. His absence goes further though. It is like an abrupt drug withdrawal, of a very effective cure that has now been removed.
I lost my dog Dylan after almost a year of fighting to help him with Cushing's Disease.
It was such a honor to serve Dylan and so very comforting for both of us to care for him over the past years leading up to this illness. The vet tried to tell us to just drop him off for an IV and leave him there for an infection one month ago. I said no and insisted she put the IV port into his arm and I would administer all from home round the clock till he was able to take oral meds. I didn't want his life of connect and trust, to have a moment of feeling abandoned at the end, as the end approached in this chapter. The vet said she could not ask any pet parent to do this (every 4 hrs injecting meds and/or flushing the line) and I said nothing is out of the question for Dylan, for we have a trust and a commitment to one another. it is my honor to do this.
He loved life to the end, always the most social of my dogs. He was a seeker of humans.
When it became difficult for him to walk, I took him for a scan of his spin and legs to rule out pain, before encouraging him.
I managed to get him back to walking by offering him adjustments to his meds (which were overblown in use) and telling him that where is are the people, where are they, find them! He was loving life and socializing to the end.
Where others would be food motivated, for him the carrot was social motivation.
He introduced me to people that otherwise never would have connected with me.
In a sense he screened people for me, for if they took to his invite they were safe, more compassionate than many, and dog lovers, which for me is a very special type of people.
He bridged the gap so that their focus and scrutiny wasn't solely on me, but rather his antics.
Such a character. Once he met a person one time, he knew their scent. When we lived in Mexico he would seek out each
of the remembered 'friends' in a large crowded open market, by lifting his head, smelling the air and tracking each one to the point of finding them. If someone called me, he would respond if I couldn't hear, making sure I noticed that hello. I have a hearing loss so this was very unique. None of these skills were taught to him.
Our relationship intensified back in 2016, when we lost two dogs, his pack mates, one to a chewable preventive that caused kidney failure at age 2, and another to intentional poisoning (unbeknownst to me common in the country we were newly traveled to, unaware of their cultural opinion of dogs).
After that second death neither Dylan or I were ever the same. My husband also noted that he and I were damaged and it likely never would recover fully. from that traumatic incident. Husband is atypical and felt that way.
From that point on, in 2016, Dylan and I navigated those waters together. We supported one another and when that vest that said service dog went on him, I didn't really believe that I truly fit the bill, but now I believe I was in a state of denial.
Since his death on Jan 10th, my social anxiety has not had a buffer or calming balm. I know he is gone. He was a black dog and I still when a shadow moves I think he is there. I step off the bed into the night careful not to step on the dog that 'blended'.
So on top of the trauma of losing my best friend, and can't quite process this loss, I find those moments of anxiety in which I would find his head and body press against mine to calm me, gone.
So when is a pet not only not just a pet, due to the special bond we have and them being family....
But when is a pet an unsuspected service dog that is tuned into ones spectrum anxiety, able to cut short melt downs of all types with their response, for me that melt down is a freeze in place and internal.
I mentioned that question to my husband, and his response shocked me. He said he would be very stressed and go to Dylan for that backing out of that rough depressed or stressed mental place. He said he noticed Dylan wanted to do that for him as well, unbeknownst to me.
I am so lost these days and it has only been since January 10th. It's like being off meds that you took for years. Sudden withdrawal of benefits.
So really when is a pet more.... We already know they are family and not just a pet.
Does this happen often, that a pet is a service dog, be it categorized and acknowledged, or not?
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