LoJack

This month marks a full year since my dog LoJack passed. I know I haven’t fully healed because when I think about him, I tear up and immediately have to think about something else.

I was seeing my therapist when LoJack passed, but I couldn’t focus on just that event. My mom was going through a trial separation and staying with me at the time. I thought it would be good for us to bond, but it wasn’t. When LoJack passed, I needed space to grieve. Instead, I was trying to hold myself together while also being there for my mom.

It took a full month for me to stop crying. I continued to work and be a mom, but both felt incredibly hard. Matt would hold me while I cried into his arms. I really leaned into him during that time.

Putting your dog down is the hardest decision to make. Even the phrase itself sounds traumatic and off-putting. I kept saying, “putting LoJack to sleep.” That’s what I told people whenever they asked.

The night before his appointment, Matt made him a steak and rice dinner. It felt right since LoJack loved food so much. We took him on one last walk around the neighborhood. He hadn’t gone on walks in a long time because he was limping and moving slower in his old age. He walked as long as he could, and when he got tired, we picked him up and carried him the rest of the way. We let him roll around in the grass too. That was his favorite.

His appointment at the vet was toward the end of the workday. I was already crying the entire drive there. We wrapped him in his favorite thick blanket, and I held him all the way into the office.

This part is still hard to process.

Everything felt like slow motion while I hovered over him, kissing his head the entire time. I felt him relax first. Then I felt him slowly slip away. He was finally free from his pain, but I wasn’t free from the pain of losing him.

I was completely heartbroken.

LoJack was 13 and a half years old. Even though that was old for him, it still felt unfairly short. He came into my life after I left a horrible relationship. When I lived alone, he made me feel less alone. He experienced life with me. He met Matt with me.

At first, LoJack hated Matt because he knew he was no longer the alpha male in my life. Eventually, he accepted him.

He was there when Matt and I got married. He was there during my pregnancy. After Liam was born, LoJack protected him and laid beside him. He saw every version of me—from depression to finally finding joy again.

That’s why I carry guilt.

The last few years were hard trying to balance my attention between Liam and LoJack. Liam naturally needed more from me, and LoJack stayed loyal through all of it. There were moments where I was frustrated because he got in the way. Moments where I couldn’t love on him the same way I did before Liam was born.

That’s the part that still hurts me.

He gave me unconditional loyalty, and sometimes I wonder if I gave him enough back during those final years.

What I hold onto now are the funny moments.

The time he peed on Matt’s clothes while Matt was visiting and somehow immediately knew he was the one. His strange little personality where he equally disliked people and dogs and mostly preferred silence and my company. The time he slept across my neck while I passed out drunk because apparently protecting me from Matt’s existence was part of his nightly duties.

LoJack was a heavy, long-haired dachshund with the loudest bark, the calmest demeanor, and the weirdest human-like quirks. One smell and he could decide whether someone was:
easy access to food and pets,
not worth acknowledging,
or suspicious enough to growl at until they left.

Otherwise, he either silently stalked people or ignored them completely no matter how hard they tried to win him over.

Honestly, I’m pretty sure LoJack trained Liam to be exactly the same way. I’m convinced he gave him pointers when I wasn’t looking.

As a kid, I watched All Dogs Go to Heaven.

And honestly, I still believe that’s where LoJack is—watching and waiting for us to come back to him.