Aurora

I had a post scheduled today. It was some general thoughts and musings on the IVF and FET process so far. And we’ll get to that next week, but something big happened last week that I need to share. Most of my family and friends already know, but I wanted to talk about it here, too. 

On Tuesday, Aug. 29, at around 10:40 a.m. my sweet Great Dane, Aurora, or Rora Bear, Roars, Baby Girl (she had many nicknames), passed away. 

It was incredibly sudden, unexpected, and shocking. 

I was working in my home office, and she was lying on her bed, asleep, right next to me. She made two quick, pained noises and then didn’t move. I knelt down beside her to see if she was OK, feel if she was still breathing, and check if there was a heartbeat. 

She had a faint pulse, but there was no recognition or movement in her eyes when I said her name. I put my ear to her chest and couldn’t hear anything. 

This is the point where I was grateful I grew up wanting to be a veterinarian and had worked with a vet throughout high school.

I’ve been in the room when many dogs have crossed over, and one thing the vet would always tell the owners is that there could be one or two big gasps at the end. He was always sure to point out this wasn’t the pup’s desperate last attempt to breathe; it’s an involuntary response of the nervous system. 

Aurora made two, big gasps, and then it was clear she was gone. 

I was simply in shock. We had taken her and Harvey on a walk the night before, and she was her happy and playful self. That morning, she didn’t act like anything was wrong and enjoyed her breakfast and Greenie as usual. 

And even though it was much more traumatic for me than it was for her, I’m glad it was painless, and I’m glad I was right there by her side when it happened. I can’t help but think that’s the way she would’ve wanted to go.

In my years of being a dog mom and foster mom, I’ve never had a dog pass away naturally. It’s always been an appointment with the vet that I would agonize over (sometimes to the point of changing that appointment multiple times, like I did with Reilly, our dog before Aurora). 

I went to our room to wake up Nick (he’s currently working on third shift) to tell him what happened. I knew he needed his sleep, but I also couldn’t just wait all day to tell him Aurora was gone. 

Neither of us knew what to do. Nick finally looked it up and said we needed to call our vet. Of course that’s what we should do, but clearly my brain wasn’t functioning at this point. The vet told us they could have her cremated for us, and told us to bring her to the office to handle the final plans. 

Nick tried to pick her up to put her in my Jeep, but it was clear he couldn’t do it by himself. I was a mess and couldn’t be much help, so we waited for Noah (Nick’s younger brother who moved in with us in July) to get home from work. 

Nick and Noah carefully brought her downstairs, to the garage, and laid her in my Jeep. It was then our neighbors all came over. They came to give us hugs and to say goodbye to Aurora. As you can imagine, it was quite the tear fest. 

We then took her to the vet where we picked out the box we’ll receive her cremains in and said goodbye to our baby girl one last time. 

It was a tough day. 

While our family and friends knew her well, I’m sure many of you didn’t know that much about Aurora. And since this wasn’t a dog-themed blog, that’s why. So let me tell you about her.

Aurora was a very special girl. She was incredibly kind, sweet, and loving. She was incredibly goofy and playful, and she never acted her age. While she was 9 (geriatric for a Great Dane), she was perpetually three in my head. She loved going for walks and playing with her brother Harvey. But most of all, she was my baby girl–a mama’s girl through and through. 

She was such a sweet girl that she even made notorious non-dog people love her. 

Not to say she didn’t have her vices – she was leash reactive with other dogs, and she obnoxiously barked at all animals on TV (no watching Animal Planet for us…). But those pale in comparison into how good of a dog she was. 

We’re pretty sure her favorite pastime was sitting her bony booty on a person’s foot – that way they were stuck and had no other option but to give her pets and neck scratches. She was also the typical Great Dane and loved to lean on her people. That was always a sign you were supposed to give her some love. 

When we got her, she was terrified of men. On the day we picked her up, she actually walked up to Nick and sniffed him – something her owner at the time could hardly believe. We don’t know much of her history, but she came to us a fearful three-year-old foster. We picked her up over Labor Day weekend in 2017 and adopted her that December.

In the six years we had her, she grew leaps and bounds in her confidence with people (even guys) and in herself. 

When she met my nephew Duncan for the first time, he was only two. She couldn’t have been more gentle and careful with him – even when he scared her unintentionally. She just seemed to sense that this was a little person she needed to be extra careful and gentle with. 

The below video is one of my absolute favorites of her and Dunc, and I’ve watched it so many times since she passed. Her gentle nature with him just amazes me. I was really looking forward to hopefully bringing home a little human for her, because I knew she’d be an amazing big fur sister. 

In the past year since Harvey became a permanent part of our family, Aurora has become even more confident and affectionate with Nick. You could always tell she loved him, but she still had her moments of being a little afraid of him. Her seeking out affection from him is a really big deal, and I’m glad Nick got to enjoy some of that affection before she passed. 

She quickly became a favorite among our family, friends, and neighbors, too.

The outpouring of love from our village has been amazing. So many people loved Aurora just as much as we did, and they’ve all stopped by with plants, wind chimes, homemade cards, a picture frame featuring one of my favorite Aurora pics, cookie delivery, and more.

It feels really amazing to have such a great community around you to support you through the hard times. Yes, they absolutely loved Aurora, and I know their kind gestures are because they love us, too. 

Losing a beloved pet is never easy. There will always be an Aurora-shaped hole in my heart; just like there’s a Reilly-shaped hole right next to it, but Harvey has quickly made his own Pitbull-shaped stamp on my heart. 

And I think that’s how it’s supposed to work. Your new pets can’t fill the holes left behind, but they add their own, unique spot on your heart.

And the cycle continues.