Before 2020 I had never lost a biological family member or a pet that wasn’t a fish. I hadn’t faced the heartache that every single pet owner dreads.
That all changed on January 4th. We had to say goodbye to the glue that held us together for seven years.
It all started on Christmas when I came home from New York and realized just how skinny she was. The vet took her in on December 30th, my 24th birthday. We were blinded by false hope.
I documented her final days on Twitter. It was a way for my to grieve and cope with what was inevitably around the corner.
Where It Began
My mom decided after her divorce that we were going to get a dog. Cliche, I know. She’d searched high and low for a dog that would fit into our chaotic lives. There she was. A Coon Hound/Shepard mix who had been rescued from Tennessee at a shelter in Brockton.
I believe it was a Saturday when we went to meet her. I was excited. My brother was happy, and my mom was hopeful. The worker told us not to get too attached because she might not end up being ours. There is a 100% chance I rolled my eyes.
Lilly came hauling ass out of the kennel to great us. Her name was Dolly at the time but we all knew that wasn’t sticking if she came home with us. The eight week old puppy used all her might to get to us. She jumped on me and left a nice scratch on my neck but I didn’t care! The kisses from a dog makes everything better.
After we left the shelter, we waited by the phone to get the news if we had been approved. We went to the pet store and got everything we needed as if it was set in stone. All of us were racking our brains for names but nothing sounded quite right.
“Lilly,” My brother said. “After Nana B.”
It was settled.
Later on that day we got a call that she was ours and we could get her the following day.
She chose us. There’s not a doubt in my mind that Lilly was brought into our family for a reason.
Too Big For Her Body
The best way to describe Lilly is that she was far too big for her body. Her nails clacking against the hardwood floor, escaping from us during a snow storm, playing fetch down the hall, or human hugs. Lilly was simply the best.
If you met her, you know exactly what I mean. She was the happiest girl and loved you no matter who you were. Her bark was the meanest thing about her.
When I was a senior in high school I was battling depression. I sat on the couch for six weeks with Lilly at my feet. She would put her paw on my lap and let me know it’d be okay.
Don’t Mention Dog Park
Lilly loved the dog park. There was nothing she wanted more than to run around and do laps until all that energy was gone. She never learned to come back to her name though… After seven years you think she would’ve nailed that one.
She always knew where she was going when she got in the car. The whines started as soon as we got on the highway. Which is why taking her to the vet on those final days broke me. She was used to going somewhere beautiful and cheerful.
Our Last Days
I never came to terms with the fact that she was sick. It happened too fast. My once energetic puppy was now too tired to get up and go outside. It was hard watching her decline. Her breath was hot and supposedly smelled awful. She didn’t sit in the family room with us. The chair in the four season room she once used to stare out the window at animals was now her bed.
My dad stayed up for 72 hours just in case she passed in the middle of the night. He didn’t want any of us to find her.
The night before we put her down we were certain she was going to pass. I hate even thinking about it. There’s no way to describe what was going on besides the fact that her breathing was like those who have been taken off of life support. We sat around in the living room with candles lit, reading poems and keeping her comfortable as possible.
We looked back on memories and just how happy she was. It was the last night she spent in the Belmosto house. I don’t know if she knew she was sick but I hope she knew she was loved.
How could a special part of the family be withering away at the young age of seven? Nothing made any sense.
The entire family made a trip to the vets office that day. My mom, brother, dad, Bradley, Ella, and me. It was time to say goodbye to my first puppy.
We pulled into the parking lot at 11:11. Every time I see it I know she’s with me. It sucked. There was no easy way to put it. Knowing you only had a few more minutes with a family member could make anyone sick.
The final moments with her were so innocent. We were all crying but the vet made us comfortable as possible. My brother sang You’ll Never Walk Alone to her as she faded away. That’s one of the things I will hold with my for the rest of my life.
An Empty Home
Her head doesn’t rest beside you on an early Sunday morning when she wants you to wake up. Her nails don’t echo as she’s coming down the hallway. Those gorgeous golden honey eyes don’t stare at you as you eat.
The house is empty. Nothing could ever replace her presence.
Please give all of your pets a hug and kiss for me. Take all the pictures you can because someday you’ll look back and feel like you never took enough.
Jessica Belmosto 
Leave a comment