(content note – pet illness/death)

Oreo the dog is no longer with us. He has gone on to the big dog park in the sky, crossed the rainbow bridge, and all of the other pleasant things we tell ourselves to try to lessen the pain of having a portion of our hearts missing due to the absence of a beloved pet.

Within the last year, Oreo had a stroke that left him basically only able to turn to the right, and a case of dementia that took so much from him, leaving him needing nearly-constant supervision and assistance with food, water, and everything else.

Meg and I tried everything we could in terms of medication and living arrangements to make Oreo comfortable, but it became increasingly clear that while we kept the floor of his quality of life up, the ceiling was dropping steadily, and there was not much left for our beloved little guy.

Oreo was loved by everyone at our veterinary practice, but he’d grown to dread trips to the vet and was pretty consistently unhappy whenever we visited. So it was important to us to find an in-house service so that he could pass on at home, with both of us by his side the whole time. Our vet referred us to an in-home end-of-life group, and so Oreo had a decadent breakfast of bacon and ice cream before we said our final goodbyes.

We got Oreo in the summer of 2017, the first year of the first Trump administration. He was with us through the first Trump era, through the start and height of the pandemic and the time since, including the first spring and summer of this new presidential term. He didn’t know anything about politics, just that he loved us, he loved meeting people, he liked investigating cats even when it wasn’t wise. He found bacon in a bush exactly one time and then spent years stopping over in that same spot just in case there was more bacon, even when the bush was gone and that patch of dirt paved over with concrete.

In the days since, the house is too quiet, too clean. It’s too easy to move around in our living room without a furry little buddy splayed out on a rug exactly in the way of the easiest route to the kitchen. Our lives are better for his memory, but the sting of his absence is still strong.

Oreo in the summer of 2017, not-so-subtly asking for treats/attention/etc.