The Hardest Goodbye: Losing Archer

Archer at June Lake

On July 3rd, we said goodbye to our beloved Archer. I have dreaded writing this post since first noodling with the idea of starting my blog, but I always thought we’d have a bit more time to continue our adventures together. Some part of me lived in denial that there would come a day we’d have to part because it was impossible to imagine our lives without Archer being present. Even now, I find it hard to believe he won’t be joining us on our annual holiday road trips.

Losing a cherished companion is the hardest part of loving them. You have to make decisions for them when they can’t voice their pain or discomfort. Guilt feels as crushing as the sadness that follows. Their absence is felt in so many ways.

Relaxing on the deck

I still picture him standing in the doorway of my office, waiting for me to take him out or give him a treat. I can see him napping in the front window or in front of the fireplace — two of his favorite spots. I find myself leaving the doors to the bathroom open, so he doesn’t get himself trapped. I step gingerly out into the hallway at night to avoid stepping on him in the dark. And I still fully expect him to greet us at the door when we get home.

Every Wednesday, I relive some of those last moments together as another week ticks by. The morning of our normal routine; taking him out, feeding him, giving him his medications. I remember that it was the first sunny day we’d had in what felt like ages. The real start of the summer. And we took him on two walks that morning before sitting out on the front lawn with him so he could enjoy being in the sunlight and feeling the gentle breeze ruffle his fur.

But he wasn’t well. He paced all morning for hours, as if he was on a mission to circle the house. He hadn’t slept well the night before, and went from periods of not moving much at all, to abruptly getting up and trying to find a new spot to rest. I had taken to sleeping on the floor with him in the nights leading up to that morning.

What we thought had been an injury two months earlier, turned out to be something more severe. Archer’s sudden episodes with difficulty walking and standing were actually due to a grapefruit-sized splenic mass that was causing intermittent internal bleeding. The expectation was it would eventually rupture, causing massive internal bleeding that would not be able to clot. And since he was already experiencing bleeds, it was very likely it could happen soon.

My promise to Archer had always been to give him a good death, if at all possible, when the time came. He hated going to the vet, so that meant taking care of him at home, without the added stress and fear, and surrounded by love. What they were predicting for him was not that, so we made the heart-breaking decision to have someone come to our home and help him pass as peacefully as possible.

He was given steak and his favorite treats. And so many pets and hugs and kisses. The vets who came to the house were very kind and treated him well. We were with him, holding him until the end. There is no easy way to say goodbye, but I’m grateful for what we were able to do for him.

Anyone who has loved an animal, made them part of their family and daily lives, knows how gutted you feel throughout this part. The diagnosis. The debate. The reality of the decision you’re making. And the reality of the new life you find yourself with after they’re gone. It’s hard to really put into words just how big that loss is and continues to be.

For anyone who finds themselves in the unenviable position of having to make that hard choice, my heart goes out to you. Before we knew what was actually wrong with him, we were already concerned that his quality of life was deteriorating and wondered if his stoic nature was hiding his pain. A quality of life scale is a helpful way to try to assess things while you try to process the emotional side.

Archer’s passing is something we still feel deeply in our home. There aren’t words to properly convey how empty the house is without him. But I started this blog because we had so many amazing adventures with him, and I wanted to share those spots with others to enjoy while also documenting those memories for us to look back on.

He led an amazing life. He gave us so much joy, and I know he will always have a place in our hearts. I’m trying now to focus on those memories and what a happy pup he was, as opposed to those final days and how much we miss him.

From the first time we saw his face on a rescue website, to the day we met him in person and took him home, Archer was the completion of our little trio. If soul dogs are real, he was mine.