One Year Ago Today
One year ago today, Rudy passed away. I write about Rudy often, because everything I’ve done since his death has been to honor his memory. But until now, I’ve only given a general overview of Rudy’s passing, and a lot of you have asked me to write about exactly what happened that day. So, this is the full story… of the worst day of my life...
July 8, 2010
For the most part, it was a normal work day. I came home for lunch and walked the dogs. Before I went back to work, Rudy was waiting by the backdoor to go outside. So, I let Rudy and Pepsi out to play, and decided to come back in an hour to let them in. Before I left, I watched out the window, as they joyfully chased each other through the grass. I smiled to myself, and then headed out the door.
I made a couple of sales calls, and then stopped to see my friend Katie at work. As I was leaving the shop, I saw a flyer on the door for a missing dog in my neighborhood. Since I’m always out in the area walking dogs, I decided to call and see if the dog was still missing.
I sat in the parking lot and talked to the family for a while. The woman told me that their dog was still gone, and she tearfully explained that they assumed the worst had happened. My heart hurt for them… so I comforted her, and we talked for a while about dogs and their impact on our lives. I mentioned my dog Rudy, and said I couldn’t even imagine what I’d do if something ever happened to him. Then, I promised to keep an eye out for their pup, and told her I’d be thinking about them. When I hung up the phone, I thanked God that my dogs were all safe and alive, and quickly drove home to hug my babies extra-tight.
It’s ironic that I made that call on this particular day, because it turns out that my Rudy was not safe or alive at all…
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| This was Rudy's favorite sleeping spot, where he died |
I got home, threw my stuff down, and went to let Rudy and Pepsi inside. When I opened the back door, my foster dog Pepsi came running like she always does… but she wouldn’t step foot inside. She was frantic… running toward Rudy’s sleeping spot on the side of the house, then back toward me, then back the other way, as if saying, “Come! Quick!”
I started calling Rudy’s name, but he didn’t come. The AC unit is right next to Rudy’s favorite spot, and the humming can be pretty loud. So I called his name, louder and louder, as I approached the side of the house…
When I got there, I saw my little angel, sleeping so soundly. I said, “Wake up, sleepy head!” But Rudy didn’t budge. So I walked closer… and in a voice that wasn't quite my own, I said, “Buddy??”
That’s when I saw the image that will haunt me for the rest of my life: Rudy’s eyes were open, his tongue was hanging out, and his jaw was clenched down over it.
And I screamed: “Noooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!”
I ran to him, and started shaking him, saying “Rudy! Buddy, no! Buddy, please wake up! Buddy, no, no, no!” Of course, he didn’t move. So I tried to pick him up, but Rudy weighed a good 80 pounds, and even with all my might, I couldn’t move him. I ran screaming into the house to grab my cell phone, dialed Dustin as I ran out, and hysterically screamed, “Come home now! I think Rudy’s dead!” I threw the phone on the ground, grabbed the water bowl, and poured it over Rudy’s body to try and revive him. Then, I started CPR. Dustin showed up 2 minutes later in a panic. We lifted Rudy, loaded him in the car, and frantically drove to the vet. On the way, I sat in the back with Rudy and continued CPR.
...Even though I knew the reality of what had happened, I simply refused to believe it. With every pump and every breath, my heart was fully convinced... that I could bring him back…
When we arrived at the vet, I ran in screaming, “Help us! Somebody please help us!” Everyone in the vet’s office knows me, but they’ve never seen me act like that. They all knew Rudy too, so I saw the shock in their eyes when they realized it was him. When we laid Rudy on the table, I said, “Please save my baby…”
That’s when I heard the words: “Ashley, there’s no heartbeat. I’m so sorry.”
And with all the hope in my heart, I said, “But you can do something, right? We can still save him, can’t we?”
She replied, “He’s gone, honey. I’m so sorry.”
In all my life, I’d never really “lost it.” I’m a pretty calm person… I rarely get hysterical. But at the moment she told me that my Rudy was gone forever, I lost it.
I started screaming “No! No! No!” over and over. I fell to my knees and started bawling on the floor in the vet’s office. That’s something I never thought I’d do in a million years… but that day, I couldn’t do anything else. Head in my hands, I sobbed uncontrollably.
I looked up at the vet tech, tears streaming down my face, and choked out the words, “But I came right back. He was alive when I left. How long has he been gone?” She looked at him, then back at me, and said, “Probably about 30 minutes.”
That’s when it hit me. Had I not stopped to comfort the family with the missing dog, I would’ve been home in time.
And I hated myself.
I got off the floor, and hugged my Rudy. I sobbed into his fur. I kissed him over and over, held him, and smelled his precious Rudy smell. Suddenly, I came to the realization that this was the last time I’d ever touch my Rudy… the very last time I’d ever hold him. I stood there, hugging him and sobbing, for what felt like hours. I didn’t want to let go, because… dead or alive… I knew I’d never see his face again. Then, they asked if I was ready to wrap his body for burial. With a shattered heart and tear-filled eyes, I said, “I’ll never be ready for that, but I guess I have no choice.”
When we got home, Dustin unloaded Rudy’s body, and asked me to pick the spot for his grave. Through my tears, I said, “I’m not ready for this…” but it had to be done. So I chose a shaded spot under a tree, and then sat on the ground next to Rudy.
While Dustin dug the grave, I clung to Rudy’s lifeless body, sobbing and shaking my head in disbelief. How could this happen? Why did this happen? It was so incredibly unfair. I save dogs for a living; it’s what I do. I rescue them; I give them life. And the one dog I wanted for my very own… was lying there in front of me… dead. I couldn’t save him.
Dustin finished digging, and tearfully said, “Ash, it’s time…” I held onto Rudy, looked up at Dustin, and said, “I don’t know how to do this. How am I supposed to let him go?” Dustin replied, “Ash, he’s already gone. Let’s respect him and say goodbye.” I cried and said, “But I don’t want to say goodbye to Rudy…” Life didn’t ask what I wanted. Life didn’t ask if I was ready. Life didn’t ask if I could handle it, and life didn’t care that I couldn’t. And so, ready or not, it was time… to let him go.
Over the last year, I’ve relived those next few moments over and over again… the details of my final goodbye. I remember every breath, every tear, and every thought, as I prepared to bury my son. In what felt like slow motion, I leaned down, gave my Rudy one last kiss, and hugged him for the last time. Then, we gently laid Rudy’s body in the ground.
Before we covered him, Dustin asked if I wanted to say anything. I had so much to say, but none of the words I needed. I had tears; I had pain; I had anger and disbelief. But no words.
As I stood over the garbage-bag-wrapped body of my child, a sea of teardrops fell, landing on the body bag… and slowly rolling off… one by one. I felt like I was suffocating, as I searched for the words to say goodbye. This was the best I could do:
“Today is the worst day of my life. I don’t know how to say goodbye to you. You’re my baby boy… my son. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow, and this will have all been a bad dream. But if it isn’t, then tomorrow will be even worse than today… because you won’t be there at all. Today, you were here. Now, you’re gone. And every day after this, you’ll be gone too. You died today, and my heart died too… because I couldn’t save you. I’m so sorry. I hope you know how much I love you, and that I always will. I was so proud to be your mom; it’s the best thing I've ever done. Thank you for changing my life… thank you for everything. The greatest gift I ever got… was you… and I will miss you every single day, for as long as I live.”
As Dustin covered Rudy’s body with dirt, I felt like I was drowning. I asked him to stop several times, because I just couldn’t take it.
When he was finally done… there was a mound of dirt… where my son used to be.
And underneath it… laid my heart.
When he was finally done… there was a mound of dirt… where my son used to be.
And underneath it… laid my heart.
I sat by Rudy’s grave all night. Staring at the ground, crying, and talking to him. Most of the time, I was completely numb. I’ve lost many dogs and cats in my life… to cancer, illness, and old age. But the sudden, unexpected loss of my Rudy on July 8, 2010, was just enough to break me.
Throughout the night, I replayed Rudy’s little life over and over again in my mind. I was terrified that I’d forget the precious details, so I desperately clung to each memory I shared with the most special dog I’d ever known… ...I saw him starving on the chain, after his family moved without him. I saw him sitting at the pound, waiting there to die. I saw him living in my home, as he healed inside my heart. And I saw him lifeless in the ground, on the day my Rudy died.
All the while, I’d tell myself it wasn’t real. He just couldn’t be gone; it was just too cruel. Then…I’d look down... grasp the dirt of Rudy’s grave in my hands… and let it run through my fingers. In doing so, I could feel Rudy’s little life slipping right through my fingers too.
As the sun began to rise over Rudy’s grave, I finally surrendered, and walked inside. He wasn’t coming back. I crawled into bed and eventually cried myself to sleep.
I woke an hour or so later, as Dustin was getting up for work. In a tiny voice of hope and anguish, I asked, “Is it true?” He said, “Yes Ash, it’s true. I’m so sorry.” I immediately got up, in disbelief, and walked over to the window. And of course… it was true. I saw the mound of Rudy’s grave in the yard… with Pepsi lying on top in mourning.
I woke an hour or so later, as Dustin was getting up for work. In a tiny voice of hope and anguish, I asked, “Is it true?” He said, “Yes Ash, it’s true. I’m so sorry.” I immediately got up, in disbelief, and walked over to the window. And of course… it was true. I saw the mound of Rudy’s grave in the yard… with Pepsi lying on top in mourning.
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| Rudy & I sleeping, the day before he died |
For some reason, despite the fact that I held his dead body in my hands and sat by his grave all night, my denial was so strong. I was convinced that I’d wake up, and the nightmare would be over.
But that next day, July 9th, was easily the second worst day of my life. Because that’s the day I realized... that Rudy was gone forever. That’s the first day… when he wasn’t there at all.
But that next day, July 9th, was easily the second worst day of my life. Because that’s the day I realized... that Rudy was gone forever. That’s the first day… when he wasn’t there at all.
You may think that Rudy was just a dog, but Rudy wasn’t a dog at all. Rudy was my son, and I was his mom. I gave him life… in every way that matters. And one year ago, I came home to find my little boy… lifeless. He had a heart attack at 3 years old.
The person I was before that day died too; I buried her with Rudy. But with a lot of faith, hope, and love, the best parts of me… came back to life…
While I’d give anything to have him back, even for just a day, the last year has surprisingly been the most incredible year of my life. Tomorrow, I’d like to share what happened after Rudy’s death… the events that would lead to the most life-changing —and life-saving— year I’ve had so far.
The year that would lead me… to all of you...
“Where you used to be, there’s a hole in the world… which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime… and falling in at night. I miss you.” ~Edna St. Vincent Millay
*Click below to read my follow-up to this post: One Year Later
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