I Lost My Dog on Vacation, My Best Friend

You know when you have a best friend you can tell anything to? You know they will never tell another single soul. They’ll travel the world with you and smile no matter what car troubles, flight troubles, luggage issues, or family chaos happens during a trip. They love pets and kisses and they’re always waiting for you when you get home. 

I got my baby, Buttercup, after living in my first New York apartment for about three months. I was an incredibly irresponsible early 20-something at the time. I’d already had so many tickets on my car from staying out late on work nights and winding up in someone’s bed in the city that I had to sell that car or it would have been impounded. Made a few hundred bucks though! 

I’m bi-polar, manically depressed and a mess at most times. But getting Buttercup somehow grounded me at least twice a day. Even if she was with me on some wild adventure, I still knew that I always had to feed and walk her which reminded me to do the same for myself. 

We traveled all over the United States together. She went to over 15+ states and at least three countries with me. She was my emotional support animal. She truly was. And I was her human. We loved each other. Can I side tangent? If not, skip to the next paragraph. Emotional support animals should absolutely be taken more seriously. Maybe rules to classifying a pet as an ESA should be more strict. I don't want to be punished by some twat who wants to take his peacock to see the world. I had a mental breakdown both times someone tried to take Buttercup away or tell me there was an issue with her getting on the flight with me. And when I mean mental break down I mean on the floor bawling on my knees unable to breath. Strangers staring or yelling at the security or even trying to calm me down. Now tell me that isn’t an emotional support animal need. The only thing either time to calm me down was literally petting and holding her. 

Losing her was the worst day of my life. Months later I still cry daily. As my psych put it “Well you’re bi-polar so getting over the loss of your dog will be harder than the normal person.” To that I say “Yeah no shit doc.” 

I lost her and it hurt. Worse than anything. You start to get into little routines with something like a pet who relies on you. And I did, especially during COVID. I hardly left her during the past two years of her life. 

She decided to die in the most dramatic and extravagant way a princess pup like her could. She clearly took after her mom, who is also dramatic. Case in point: I once had my old roommate play a theme song for me every time I walked in a bar he was djing. 

It happened two days before my birthday, in New Orleans, with seven of our best friends - some of her favorite aunts and uncles and my best friends. We had a false alarm the night before. We had been out during the previous day, and one of my friends went home and parted from the group for one reason or another. She could not find Buttercup anywhere in the house. So she called me, a few of us rushed home and we found her hiding under the bed. She seemed okay for a while so we took her in her li’l bag to a Mardi Gras parade. She was smiling and chilling in her bag the whole time. Until she wasn’t. She was breathing weird and we rushed back to the house where the others in our group found us again and rushed us to the vet. 

The vet said everything was fine. That she was going to be alright. We went home and I was pretty exhausted but we took some mushrooms and I stayed up with her almost all night. When I woke up in the morning next to her, she had passed in her sleep with me holding her in my right arm. I had only fallen asleep for a short while. It was the worst morning of my life. My friends came running as I screamed. We all cried until they were able to physically peel me off the bed. My brain had shut off, I had forgotten how to breathe. The doctors had lied to me. 

I blamed them, but I blamed myself most of all. I’m still not over blaming myself. If we had been at her vet who knows if it would have been different. What I do know is she went out with a bang which is exactly what she deserved and would have wanted. 

I was surrounded by people I loved who could care for me and get me out of my bed for my birthday dinner at least. I barely remember anything from that weekend before. I remember some bits here and there and thank my friends for everything. 

Advice on how to heal? I don’t have any. I haven’t fully healed and I won’t. I know that much. She was the best gift I could have gotten at such a young adult age. I’m sure she kept me alive a few times or away from some pending downward spiral or doom I could have gotten myself into (more than I already did).

I wanted to write a blog about my love, Buttercup. Hopefully I made you cry but also smile knowing she went out with a bang. It’s hard for me to talk about as I mentioned as I still partially blame myself but she knew what she was doing. And I know she had a great life with this hot mess of a mom.