Gone Too Soon

A Farewell to Shadow

Hello everyone. It pains me deeply to tell you that my puppy Shadow passed away on Sunday night. She was only one year and four months old. 

Shadow's disintegration happened in less than 24 hours, which shocked not just me but also the doctors at the clinic and then the hospital. She seemed fine the day before her death, other than a little huffing sound she was making that came and went depending on what she was doing. She was still eating, playing, and snuggling, and she was breathing fine in bed with me until I put her in her crate around midnight. I woke up at 4am Sunday morning because she was crying in her crate. She'd had a potty accident, was drooling profusely, and her chest was soaked. She vomited twice as I was cleaning up her and the crate. At first, I thought it was just a stomach upset, but I was concerned. I gave her some pet meds and stayed up with her in the living room to observe her. I soon noticed she had rapid, stilted breathing. I clocked her at 50 breaths per minute, which is extremely high for a resting dog. It being Sunday, her vet wasn't open, but once the emergency vet clinic was, I took her there, and because of her weakening condition, they made her the priority. 

Shadow received a variety of treatments. They suspected she had pneumonia due to the amount of fluid in her lungs (coughing it up may have been the cause of her wet chest). Her white blood cell count had plummeted, and she needed to go on oxygen. She wasn't improving, so the doctor recommended a hospital stay. By the time I got her to the emergency room she’d gone into shock. She was put on oxygen again, given pain medicine, had a variety of tests, and the doctors tried to shock her system back into working order, but she wasn't improving, and her kidneys were shutting down. The outlook was not good, and prolonging her stay would only continue her misery and cost me even more money than the thousands I'd already spent. I couldn’t let her pain go on and drag out an inexorable death. So I made the heartbreaking decision to let her go and held her in my arms as she was put to sleep.

The doctors could not explain what was even happening to her, other than to guess she might have gotten a viral or internal infection or ingested something toxic without me noticing. I keep my dogs safe in and outside of the home, but Shadow got into everything and put everything in her mouth. She was a puppy after all. Unfortunately, pets have no way of telling us what the problem is or what led to it, so it's harder to know why they suddenly die.

Please take one thing away from this: if your pet shows any signs of troubled breathing—including huffing, coughing, or clicking in the throat—get them to a vet immediately.

Some have asked if I’m accepting donations or doing any fundraising to cover the high cost of the two hospital bills. I greatly appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t feel like this situation calls for something like that and wouldn’t have the energy to set all of that up anyway. If you’d still like to show support, just grab something you’d been eyeing on my Trianahorror website or add something to your cart on Amazon or wherever else you buy books. As always, the support of the horror community is deeply appreciated, especially the emotional support.

After Bear's death last Christmas, I rescued Shadow at the start of the year. I take solace knowing that, while her life was short, she spent the bulk of it in a loving household and never had to be home alone for more than an hour or two (she was always crated for safety). Though she was still in that demon/raptor phase all puppies go through, I never gave any serious thought to rehoming her. She was a pain in the butt, but she was my pain in the butt and was also responding well to training. Shadow’s name suited her. My puppy followed me everywhere. She was sweet, silly, adorable, and way too young to die. Given more time to grow up, I have no doubt she would have mellowed and become an even better dog than she already was. 

Losing Bear was more devastating because we'd been together for twelve years, but Shadow's death feels far more tragic because she was just a puppy and died so suddenly. I never thought I’d lose two dogs in eleven months’ time, especially when one was a puppy I rescued to fill the black void left by the death of my beloved elder dog. I'm currently riddled with guilt I'm sure I don't deserve—wondering if I made the right choice to euthanize even though she had slim chances of survival and was suffering terribly, ashamed I didn't realize what was happening sooner, and feeling I should have kept an even more watchful eye on her. Deep down, I know this is just one of grief's ways of fucking with me, but I just can't shut these questions off, and the grief is especially raw because it hasn't even been a year since I lost Bear. Losing Shadow reopened all those wounds too. 

That Shadow fell apart so quickly at such a young age breaks my heart more than I can even say. It’s inconceivably tragic and a terrible shock. In my previous newsletter, I spoke about the strange way that personal tragedy tends to strike me during the holidays, and how I dread and despise this season because of it. The unfathomable, sudden, and nightmarish death of my puppy, from causes that doctors at two different facilities couldn’t identify, only further justifies these feelings. Maybe time is cyclical after all.

On Sunday night, I stood in the parking lot of the veterinary hospital, screaming “fuck you!” at the sky, at the universe, at life itself. The past two weeks had also brought me a series of unrelated stresses and heartbreaks, as if everything was snowballing into this avalanche of despair.

But I need to remember certain things.

Everyone who has ever lost their pet needs to remember them too.

I must remember that grief sends you spiraling through a past you cannot change. I’m stumbling down the same path over and over, but there is no destination other than the one I’m already at. Life is cruel and unreasonable. Sometimes love isn’t enough to protect the ones you love. I must remember that my feelings of guilt are only a sign of how much I care. I must think of what I would tell a friend in my situation, then talk to myself in the same way.

I must remember that even though my sadness makes me wish I had spent even more time with Shadow, we did do many great things together. She had a few acres of land to call her own and enjoy her zoomies on. She hiked mountains, played in snow and sunshine, went on long walks almost daily, and was spoiled with toys and treats. She got to travel, be a guest at Authorcon in Virginia, played with other dogs often, and was always loved by those closest to her. Shadow was also one of those lucky dogs who got dessert after dinner every night (a Kong stuffed with peanut butter was her favorite). I must remember that she would not have had these things without me. When I met her, she had no home, no family. I gave her all that and more.

Most of all, I must remember that the way I felt about Shadow’s suffering is the way she would feel about mine. She would want my pain and sadness to end. She would want me to not blame myself and to know that it’s okay. She would want me to know that she loved me and that this was not my fault.

My puppy left pawprints on my heart that will never fade.  

Thank you all for the love and kindness you showed us during Shadow's short time on this mortal coil. 

Best,

Kris

Shadow "Meeps" Triana

7/13/23 - 11/10/24