The tremendous outpouring of love, kindness, and support following the sudden loss of our beloved Titi has been far beyond anything I expected. This incredible wave of compassion has deeply touched my heart, especially during such a painful time. Thank you to everyone who has reached out, shared kind words, and offered comfort. It means more than I can express. And yeah these are ai recreation photos as we can never really know to catch those moments

This one really made me cry. We were just talking of he was always barking at door when got home. Weeping but thanks

It’s worth contemplating that my post about losing our beloved Titi had my greatest reach ever, far more than when we lost Emma a few years ago. Reaching people here is difficult. Sharing thoughts intended to encourage reflection, growth, and living life fully can feel like talking to the air. It takes consistency, persistence, and engagement, and even then, there are no guarantees. But perhaps the point isn’t to complain about how it works or measure the value of what we share by its reach. We do what we can, remain faithful to what matters, and trust that what we offer will reach those who need it. After all, living life fully matters whether the algorithm notices or not.

Words where there are some comfort

So true but hard to be in midst of not grasping any of it

Ode to Titi (Thierry) You came into our lives in a moment. We weren’t searching. We had contemplated, but weren’t really looking. And then you came. A gift we didn’t know was coming. I didn’t want a male dog. But God gave us you. And in the beginning, it was you and me. Hours and hours together. Learning each other. Finding our rhythm. Building a bond that would last a lifetime. Of course, you ended up attached to Mom. But you and I, we had something special. Oh, how smart you were. And stubborn. So incredibly stubborn. Always taking everything in. Watching. Figuring things out. Teasing us in your own little ways. So much personality in such a little body. Your spirit. Your strength. Your determination. Your life. How do I live without you? And then, in the end, it was you and me again. Much like when you were a pup. Just the two of us, spending hours together. Only this time, I didn’t know they were our last. I was caring for you, trying to make things better, believing there would be another day. I didn’t know I was saying goodbye. There’s something poetic about that, I suppose. That we began together and spent those final hours together. But I wish with everything in me that the ending had been different. I thank God for you, Thierry. For every moment. For every laugh. For every stubborn little argument. For all the love you brought into our lives. You were a gift. And you always will be. But damn. I miss you.

Here’s the deal. Acute grief sucks. Yes, I lost a dear dog whom I loved deeply. But one of the hardest parts is what happened during his final hours. It was just him and me. I had no idea he was dying. No reason to believe that was what was happening. I was caring for him, watching over him, trying to ease his discomfort, believing we were dealing with something he would get through. And then, just like that, what I thought was caregiving became end-of-life care. Except I didn’t know it was end-of-life care until it was over. Now those hours are stuck with me. Not simply as memories or thoughts, but as sensations, emotions, and the feeling of being right back there with him. I know those hours are over, but I can still feel them. And that’s the part I struggle to put into words. I don’t know how to express what those hours were like in a way that someone who wasn’t there could fully understand. I wasn’t just watching my dog suffer. I was loving him, caring for him, and hoping he would recover, never knowing I was accompanying him through the final hours of his life. And now I carry all of that. I know what happened. I understand what happened. But I still feel every bit of it. And right now, that is one of the hardest parts of saying goodbye.

Well the thing that is hard about the logarithm is that when you post about losing a dog your feed gets filled with all the suffering

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