The Death Of Our Family Dog During COVID

And what we gained by saying goodbye together.

Last March, we had to put our 15-year-old Bichon Frise down. I knew it would be tough, but I never anticipated HOW tough. The circumstances were crazy enough, but when we started hearing about COVID-19 safety protocols, there was added pressure to make a quick decision on when to do it.

There’s no doubt she was suffering, but all three of our kids begged for one last goodbye. The tricky part is that they weren’t all in town and there was a pandemic breathing down our necks, threatening closures everywhere — including the animal clinic who had cared for the sixth member of our family since she was a puppy.

More than a year later, the memories are vivid, the pain still fresh. And the bond the five of us share after collectively caring for our family pet together has taught me some very valuable lessons that will stay with me forever.

Meet our family dog

Her name was Katie.

A gift from Santa Claus.

Despite all the advice I’d read and heard about never gifting a pet for Christmas, we did it anyway. The kids had been begging for a dog for years. Our oldest checked the exact same book out of the school library week after week — The Complete Dog Breed Book. She’d sit at the kitchen table, thumbing through the pages with her tiny fingers, pointing at the pictures, and shouting things like:

“What about this one, Mommy?”

“This one doesn’t shed!”

“Oohhhh! I love this one. Please, Mommy, please!”

We eventually caved. Despite the fact that I’d grown up with pets, the only other pet my husband and I owned since we got married was a cat. Easy, peasy. Dogs are different. With three young and very active kids, I wasn’t sure whether I could handle the added responsibility. But how could I say no to those adorable faces? They’d waited (and begged) long enough.

Finding each other

My son is allergic to many breeds, which helped narrow down our search to “hypoallergenic” dogs. I found a family breeder listed in the newspaper (yes, the printed newspaper not the internet), and scheduled a visit to her home to take a look at the litter she was advertising. My dad came with me, which was special in itself. He’s the biggest dog lover I know and I was grateful for his help.

The litter was fairly large, and we were greeted with a warm welcome from a rambunctious group of bright white fluff-balls frolicking inside a gated area in the breeder’s family room. We were lucky to find this breeder. You hear so many stories of puppy mills and sketchy animal brokers. This woman clearly loved her dogs and I suddenly realized that we weren’t the only ones “shopping” for the right fit. She was sizing us up in return to make sure we’d take good care of one of her pups.

You often see the Bichon Frise in dog shows, and among other signature traits, they’re known for their curly hair. As my dad and I played with each and every puppy in the pen, I tried to get a sense of which one I wanted, not realizing how strong the connection would be the moment I knew.

There was one pup in the litter, the runt, whose hair wasn’t curly at all. The breeder kind of dismissed her as the one she anticipated as being the last to go since she didn’t look like the “standard” Bichon. That was the one! She had the biggest black eyes, the most adorable face, and she snuggled right up to me as soon as I picked her up. I’m usually someone who agonizes over every decision, but that was a no-brainer. I was excited, couldn’t wait to bring her home.

Introducing her to the rest of the family

Of course, we had to wait until she was old enough, and my mom and dad helped me hatch a plan to bring our puppy home, offering to take care of her themselves on Christmas Eve so we could surprise the kids Christmas morning.

And it worked! They were shocked, overwhelmed, and beyond happy!

I’m pretty sure if we hadn’t also placed Nintendo Game Boys under the Christmas tree that year, that the kids would have never taken their eyes off their new furry sibling. Oh well, my bad. The puppy was still a huge hit!

Deciding on a name came next, and it was easier than I imagined. My son was too young to chime in, but the girls agreed on Katie pretty quickly, naming her after Katie Couric, a household name since they woke up to me watching her on The Today Show every morning.

For 15 years, Katie was a beloved part of our family. As expected, I did most of the caretaking, but I didn’t mind. She was a good dog and a loyal friend — everything you’d ever wish for in a pet. As my older kids went off to college, they’d call home and ask about Katie before anything else. And they couldn’t wait to see her when they came home to visit, even though by that time, Katie was showing signs of age and there wasn’t as much spring in her step. At Christmas that last year, I knew she didn’t have much time left and tried to prepare myself and the kids for what was coming.

Saying goodbye

But there’s no real preparation for the death of a pet. There’s something about having to make that decision, having to speak for an animal because they can’t truly speak for themselves, that makes it so gut-wrenching. I still didn’t entirely believe her time had come, even after the veterinarian looked me directly in the eyes and said, “There’s nothing more we can do besides make her comfortable while the rest of your family hurries home.”

I wanted Katie to give me a sign that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. I wished for her to get better, to give us more time. But she couldn’t.

We’d given her a good life and she was ready to go.

Luckily, she made it through one more night. I’d like to say she was pain-free, but I sat up with her most of that night, and I knew she was hurting. In retrospect, we made the end more about us, than her. That was selfish, and I still feel bad about it. But I wanted everyone to be with her to say goodbye, which they were. The five of us gathered around that metal table inside the exam room and watched as our vet did what needed to be done to end her life. The vet was compassionate and kind — with Katie first, and then with the rest of us as we hugged each other and cried around the table. “Take all the time you need,” the vet had said.

Life lessons

Katie’s death was traumatic for all of us, but it was special in a way too. The love within our family felt so strong as we comforted one another that day. When we were ready, we made our way to a local restaurant for lunch that afternoon, our eyes red and swollen, and we shared stories about that funny little dog that made such a giant impression on our hearts.

That was Friday the 13th. The following Monday, most businesses in town shut down because of COVID-19, including the animal clinic. They were no longer allowing people to enter the facility with their pets, regardless of the circumstances. We were so fortunate that we’d been able to be together with Katie, to let her go surrounded by love. I can’t imagine how we would have felt handing her over to the vet in the parking lot and saying goodbye there instead.

That thought makes me think of all the people who died during the pandemic who weren’t able to have their loved ones in the room. It breaks my heart as everyone deserves to have their loved ones close by as they leave this earth. It was painful enough with our dog.

Final thoughts

Death is a strange phenomenon, enigmatic, mysterious. Perhaps better understood through the eyes of others. As we leaned on each other for support and comforted Katie in crossing the rainbow bridge, my heart could have burst wide open in seeing my husband and children show such raw compassion. We allowed ourselves to be vulnerable, growing closer than ever before through our shared experience.

Had I known 15 years ago how much joy and love our family would have found in that quirky white fluff-ball, and in each other, I would have caved in much sooner.