On December 29, 2016, I lost Finnegan to cancer. He was just seven years old.
Riley was three when I brought Finnegan home. Finn attached himself to Riley immediately and became his little shadow. Whatever Riley did, Finnegan did. For the almost 8 years they were together, they were very rarely more than a few inches apart. As Riley got older, and as his arthritis become more painful, he looked to Finnegan to show him the way. Finn assumed this new role quietly and without protest.
In early January after losing Finnegan, Riley suffered from an odd skin condition – he was chewing on his left hip down to the skin. This went on for several weeks. In February, Riley’s seizures kicked into high gear – almost a week apart, he had THREE cluster seizure days – those were he had multiple seizures on one day.
At the time, while all of this was going on, I just thought I was having some really crappy luck with my dogs. I was still in shock from losing a dog so young and so quickly, and I never stopped to think about what was really happening with Riley. Looking back, I am very sure what was happening was grief. Riley was grieving over the loss of his Mini Me.
It wasn’t a “skin condition”. Riley was actively pulling his hair out. In clumps. Down to the skin so that the hair follicles would start bleeding. I had to physically get on the floor with him to make him stop. And those seizures where Riley’s way of telling me that he just couldn’t cope. Nothing made sense to him.
So for those people who don’t believe that dogs grieve, I beg to differ. And for others with multiple dogs, for as much as your heart will break when you lose one of your pack, be sure to keep an eye out for the other dogs. Riley’s grief was loud and clear — and yet I didn’t realize it until months later.
P.S. Almost a year later, someone mentioned how good and how happy Riley looked. I don’t think it took a year for him to get there, but I am sure it was close.
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