It’s been two weeks. It feels like forever since I’ve seen him. My brain won’t let me think about him without a crushing weight on my chest. I dread mornings. How can he not be here when I wake up. Grief constantly tries to be the very worst version of itself. I still cannot write about him. About how perfect he was. But I thought maybe I would do my last post about living with NCL.

For Doug, it began when he’d do his normal dog shake. Mid shake, his eyes would roll back into his head, and he’d lower to the ground. Sometimes he’d tip over. I’d run over to help him get back up. Eventually he’d be back up before I got to him. He acclimated every step of the way. He never gave up. I will always wish he didn’t have to do that. We don’t deserve dogs. They are just too perfect.

Doug was diagnosed the fall of 2019. He lived five years with NCL. His body was much stronger in 2019. I don’t even remember that part of our life anymore.

At the end of our journey with NCL…

1. He needed me to get around. He couldn’t always get back up, so I helped him. He could no longer do steps. But he never stopped trying. When I was home, I was always near him. I didn’t want him to feel like he was alone. I wanted to be there for anything he needed. 
2. His Help’em up Harness was a true lifesaver. I was able to lift him into the car with it. I used it to get him up and down the steps, and the best part about that harness was, he believed he was doing it. My little superhero, Always chasing joy.
3. He could no longer walk in a straight line. He would have failed a field sobriety test. He walked like he was on a boat, in an angry sea. The perfect metaphor for NCL.
4. It was hard for him to stand and eat and drink, he kept falling over. So I brought his water to him. And I hand fed him his meals. NCL continued to break the communication between his brain and his body.
5. His head bobbed, a lot. Every time he sniffed the fire hydrant, his head would bob into it. The universe can be so cruel sometimes. This little creature that never hurt anyone.
6. He got disoriented. His vision declined. I was his beacon.
7. Summer heat made every symptom worse. I’m happy he made it to fall.
8. His shitty hind legs made most things harder. This list reads like Doug was old. But he was only eight.
9. And then he stopped eating. Twice. That was, the beginning of the end.

But Doug got up every day wagging his tail. He traveled through life with a lot of determination. He trusted me to get him through his days safely, and he forgave me when it got bumpy. He continued to love with his whole heart. His big beautiful, giant heart.

This is true about all the dogs in our NCL family. They never give up. They never stop trying. And neither do their families. We are always and forever, #nclfamily 🩵

Doug had NCL symptoms for the majority of his life. I am starting to realize that he and I moved sideways though our journey with NCL. Losing a little more ground each passing month. We were dedicated to living in the moment. In a lot of ways, the end snuck up on us. In a lot of ways, it didn’t. I can’t remember Doug without NCL. People say he’s running and playing now. But I don’t have that same vision. The moments that Doug and I shined brightest, were not during the running and playing years. They were in the holding each other up years. I want him to be running and playing, but I also want to be holding him and caring for him. Because that was the bulk of our life together. And that breaks my heart in ways I will be never be able to put into words here.

The night we said goodbye (at home), after they had given him the sedative, everyone commented on how relaxed he was. How comfortable his body looked. And it was true, he was more relaxed than I had ever seen him. I don’t know if you will understand this, but my heart broke permanently in that moment because I realized just how much of a struggle NCL had been for him. How our love had grown under such a heavy weight. A weight Doug would thankfully leave behind, but I might always feel. In that moment, we both surrendered to NCL.

Check on your friends who are caretakers for someone. I’m pretty sure they feel like they are not doing enough, and they feel guilty for being tired, and they are watching someone they love, disappear.

Of course there was one thing NCL had no power over. Our beautiful love. That’s a story for another day though. ❤️