On the morning of June 26, 2012, we had to say good bye to Belle's big sister, Simba. She'd had a good and long life, but it never seems long enough. We let Belle wander in and out of the bedroom as we lay beside Simba on her bed on the floor, waiting for the vet to come deliver her from her pain and discomfort. She was dying, and we didn't want her to be in pain any longer than she had to.
Belle seemed to understand something was happening. Whether she understood it was Simba's final sleep, I don't know, but I'm guessing she did. She wandered in and out of the room, quietly walking over to gently sniff at Simba and then somberly walking away. At one point, she sat at my feet, staring out of the room and down the hall, a sentinel to see Simba off on the journey she was about to begin.
I think I may have made a mistake that morning. When the vet arrived, I put Belle in the back yard and blocked the doggie door. Since she is so afraid of everyone, I was concerned she would bark and bark and bark at the vet. I didn't want Simba to have to listen to that as she slipped away. I wanted her death to be as peaceful as possible.
Unfortunately, I may have spared one dog at the expense of the other. For the rest of that day and several days after, Belle refused to go outside. We were only able to coax her out once in the morning for a potty and once in the evening to poop. I was, of course, greatly relieved when she finally pooped after 24 hours, but she still refused to go outside other than those two times a day. If we managed to coax her out the door, she refused to leave the porch. This was not usual for her. She loved to run circles around the yard, joyously chasing the squirrels and crows. I felt so guilty. I knew I had really done some emotional damage.
We consulted with one of our Facebook friends, Kim, who works with dogs. She gave us a few things to try, and eventually, bit by bit she began to willingly go outside again. But after two weeks, she still wasn't going out to "sun bathe" in her usual spot by the garden. Before Simba's death, this had been a daily routine for her. I think, too, that some our grief hung on her. You could tell she felt it. If I started to cry, she ran away. Again, not normal behavior for her.
Some of the advice from Kim was to get her back to her normal routine as quickly as possible. Play with her. Take her for walks. Margie and Jose came over and spent an afternoon with her, along with our friend Kim (another Kim) while we were away at a DJ gig we had booked. As time went on, bit by bit, day by day, she slowly returned to the Belle she once was. But you can tell she misses her big sister, however adversarial their relationship could occasionally be. She has become very attached to the green, one-eyed "baby" her Aunt Margie and Cousin Jose brought over for her that afternoon.
I'm sure she saw Simba's death as yet one more abandonment in her life. And being blocked outside in Simba's last hours most likely felt like another abandonment and created a new anxiety in her. Thankfully, with the help and experience of good friends, she has shed most of the anxiety I unintentionally created.
Although still afraid of most anyone who isn't us, Margie or my mom, she is beginning to develop a new self-confidence that we hope will continue to blossom with time. More of those "baby steps." We will eventually foster or adopt another sibling when the time is right, but for now we will help nurture her and show her she is smart and beautiful, and that flying solo is not always such a bad thing, especially when you have a huge net of love to fall into.
