It is with great sadness that I must tell you that Sofie Bear, my little Soda Pop, left this earthly plan on Friday, March 18, she was 11 years old. The pain is almost unbearable because she was my heart. We never expected to lose Nine, the cat, on March 10 to cancer and then lose Sofie ten days later. She had significant hip issues and could no longer get up the stairs or walk easily without pain. These issues only exacerbated her aggressive behavioral issues, where she was attacking Charles and the cats, and biting Louise in the neck and mouth.
Sofie was always my troubled furchild. She suffered from behavioral problems which started when she was about 2 or 3 years old. It has been so long that I can’t remember her without them. Her anxieties were off the charts most of the time. She had night terrors. She had noise and thunder anxiety. She had separation anxiety. She ate through 3 doors and the wall-to-wall carpet. She had to nibble on a lovey all the time and then protect it (resource guarding). Yet, I guess, I thought my love, commitment, training, and medication would help her. I had trainers, behaviorists, tons of vets, tons of meds, to the point she was taking 6 different medications and herbs at the end with every meal and in-between. I had several vets tell me that anyone else would have ‘put her down’ years ago. But, to me she was worth fighting for.
I know that she is out of pain now and not scared of anything. That is what I wanted for her. I hope she is chasing sheep in the meadow beyond the rainbow bridge waiting for me along the road with Nine and all the others. The back door picture above was taken on the day she left us. It looks to me like she was prepared to be out of pain and to be in a better place. The sun shine was perfect to show the warmth inside her when she could quiet for a moment or two.
I might not be able to blog for a while. This one-two punch has knocked me for a loop.
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep by Mary Elizabeth Frye
Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there.
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there.
I did not die.