"I Loved You at First Sight..."

(Some names have been changed.)

It was a fall day I will never forget. It was October 7, 2015. It was my very first day at a new job at a local doggy daycare. I had worked at many animal-related jobs, including doggy daycares over the years. This one was the most special though. I was training to be a front desk supervisor. In order to get a better idea of the company, I had to be trained in all areas, including the play areas. The play areas were where all of the dogs were out playing in groups. It was often chaotic. The first group I went into was the small dog group. As soon as I entered, I was met with many excited little dogs. They were all jumping up on me, barking, and trying to win over my affection.

On the outside of this little mob of dogs, a lonesome, little, scruffy looking guy stood curiously watching from a small distance to see what the raucous was all about. I noticed him almost instantly. The girl training me said, “watch out for that little one. That’s Primo. He can be a little mean.”

I thought he was just the cutest little guy. We walked over to one of the play bridges to pet some more of the dogs. Little Primo instantly jumped up onto the play bridge and went right up to me begging to be pet. He ignored everyone else. That was a moment that I will always envision for the rest of my life. I absolutely fell hard for this little dog from the beginning.

He was there for a couple more days after that, but he always let me handle him and would always happily follow me wherever I went. Primo ended up going back home on October 9. It would be almost 2 months before I saw him again.

It was mid November and getting close to Thanksgiving. A time where doggy daycares always fill up quickly for boarding. We received a phone call from a woman who was wondering if there was still space available.

“Unfortunately, there isn’t. We do have a waitlist, however, if you would like to be added.” I said.

“Ok, sure. My dog’s name is Primo and I am Margaret.” She responded and also said the dates she would need to board him.

Primo! I thought. I had missed him and thought of him often.

“I know Primo! I love him. He is such a great little guy. What if I took him for the holiday and he can stay with me?” I said.

She seemed confused.

“Primo? Are we talking about the same dog?” She asked, puzzled.

“Of course we are. I know exactly who Primo is. I would love to have him stay with me.” I said.

“Well, that would be great. Maybe you could actually have him.” She said. By “have him” she meant “keep” him forever.

I totally would have. I already had 2 dogs and 2 cats already though in a 800sq ft apartment though and it would be a long shot to have another dog.

Margaret and I set up a time and date to meet at the daycare. I would have Primo stay the night at my apartment to see how he got along with my other pets as a trial sitting.

Margaret and I formally met that morning. She dropped him off and I took him home. In the car, he sat right in my lap and licked my face.

When we arrived at my home, the initial meeting was a little rough with my shiba inu dog. My Hana is very jealous. She was very excited to meet this new little dog that was coming into our home. He put her right in her place though by with his strong will and tough guy act. They got along perfectly after that. He always got along with my Pomeranian named Phoebe. Primo followed me around the apartment everywhere.

My fiancé, Christian, came home and Primo was very standoffish to him. He didn’t like too many people, especially men. Christian avoided Primo to keep the peace as much as Primo avoided Christian.

Primo settled in nicely at the apartment. Once he relaxed, he fit right in. We decided we would babysit him for the 2 weeks Margaret was out of town.

Primo came to work with me every day. The stimulation was good for him. He became more socialized in those 2 weeks.

In those 2 weeks, Primo settled right into our home. He fit right in with our girls and they became a tight little trio. He would even tolerate Christian more. Primo still kept his distance though.

After the 2 weeks was up, I was actually quite sad he was leaving. I talked to Margaret about what a great boy he was with us and that I would love to have him again. She was a teacher at a local school. She said she felt bad that he was at home alone a lot while she was away. We decided to come up with a schedule that allowed us to share Primo. I would take him during the day and drop him off at night. Margaret and I got to know each other so well that some weeks, Primo just stayed with Christian and I all day and overnight. We wouldn’t have it any other way.

As time went on, Primo’s little personality blossomed more and more. There even came a day that he slowly walked up to Christian and licked his face (I have the precious moment on video still.) With each passing day, Christian and I fell more and more in love with Primo. He had become a part of our family. It wasn’t the same when he wasn’t with us. Our girls were happier when Primo was around too. Primo was being exposed to more people and realizing that not everyone was going to hurt him. He even let us play with his hair and give him crazy little mohawks in his little wiry hair on his head. His little mohawk was one of my favorite things about him.

Primo was always SO excited to see me when I came to pick him up. Margaret joked that he didn’t like her anymore and that he loved me more. He would always be so happy to leave with me. He would immediately run up to the car and stand there, with his wagging tail, waiting for me to open the door to let him in. Margaret even referred to me as his mommy, Christian as his daddy, and my girls as his sisters. We were his second family.

When Primo was with Christian and I (and our girls), it was like he never had any fear in the world. His confidence was brought out. He was happy. He always smiled and would always play. He loved one toy in particular. A little red and white soccer ball. When he tired of playing, he would try to melt into your lap and just want to lick you. He grew to absolutely adore Christian. He always sat with Christian and started to follow him around everywhere too. Primo even took kindly to my family. He was seeing the brighter sides of life. He was so much happier. Primo was where he belonged, with us.

A year and a half passed, and I ended up getting a new job at a vet office. I quit the daycare and couldn’t have Primo with me every day at work. He stayed at home with Christian a lot and sometimes it would be days before I’d be able to see him. I was seeing him less and I missed him terribly. I tried to see him as much as possible.

In the summer of 2017, he stayed a few days with us. It was like any other time he stayed with us. When it was time for him to go home, Margaret picked him up. I waved as she drove off with Primo in her lap staring out the window at me. His little tag wagging behind him. Little did I know, it would be the last time.

Christian asked me to marry him a week after that. We took a beach vacation and he proposed on the beach. My mind quickly got set on the wedding when I returned home. With my new job and the wedding planning, I didn’t get to see Primo at all. I often texted Margaret to see how he was doing. She sent me photos.

A couple of months later, Margaret and I made plans for Primo to come back to stay with Christian and I. I was ecstatic! It was the longest time I had gone without seeing him since meeting him. I started to plan for him coming back and got our apartment ready.

Four days after we made the plans, I checked my phone at work. I received a text from Margaret that changed my life for the worst.

“Hey, Kelly. Primo tried to bite one of my grandchildren. Don’t worry, I stopped him in time and no one was hurt. I had to put him down though, Kelly. I had to.”

Wait… what? WHAT? What did I just read? Did she really just say this? It took a few moments for me to process the information. I simply responded, “I am so sorry, Margaret. I know how much you love Primo.” I didn’t know what else to say at that exact moment as I was in complete shock and the world around me got fuzzy.

Then it hit me like a truck.

She started to spill to me about how she couldn’t walk him on the sidewalks, that she had to walk him in the alley because he didn’t like people. That he would try to attack the nurses and caregivers coming in and out of her mother’s house (Margaret took him with her to her mother’s home.) I couldn’t believe what she was telling me. This was NOT the Primo I came to know. I walked Primo every single day and never once did he try to attack anyone. He came with me to my family’s home and never once tried to attack anybody.

We always knew Primo didn’t like children, and she would just keep them in separate rooms. Usually Primo would be with us if the grandkids were there. Why was this child around Primo? It was almost as if Margaret was trying to justify her decision. Like she was trying to convince herself that it was the right thing. She acted fast, and I believe deep down she knew it was the wrong decision. I asked her when she did this.

It turns out she did it the day after she asked me to take him. I broke down. In tears, I asked her what she did with his body. She said she was going to have him cremated and that she didn’t want his ashes. This means he would have been in a communal cremation, with other animals. I asked her if I could please have them if she didn’t want them. She told me to leave it alone because it had been a couple of days. I refused to leave it alone. I called the vet I knew she had taken him to.

They told me they would try to get in touch with the crematory and see if they had cremated him yet. Thankfully, they hadn’t. I asked them to please wait before cremating him. I had to be strong during all of this and try to stay as clear-headed as possible. I couldn’t let his little guy who meant so much to me be in a communal cremation. He deserved better than that. That same night I found out the terrible news, I came across the date July 18 randomly in a file at work. July 18 is the date of my brother’s birthday. My brother passed away in 2009. I believe this was my brother’s way of trying to tell me that he met Primo on the other side and that my brother is going to take care of him until I arrive.

I had to tell Christian. He was devastated. We went on a walk that night. We cried together. All we could envision was little Primo being so excited to go somewhere with Margaret (because he loved car rides.) We envisioned him happily walking up the sidewalk to the vet doors. We envisioned him then getting scared and turning to Margaret for reassurance. We envisioned the entire process, Margaret leading him to his final breath.

It is very difficult to write.

The depth of the grief had set in. I was so confused. Why? Why did she do this? Why did she act so quickly? She knew how much he meant to me and Christian. She knew we saw him as our own. She knew we would have taken him. Why didn’t she ask us to take him for good if she was having problems with him? Why? Why did she think he had to die? Why were we not an option? Why was this the only option?

Yes, in the beginning, Christian and I thought another dog would have been too much, but that was before we knew Primo. That was before we realized that Primo completed our family. That he belonged with us and was perfect. Maybe Margaret was jealous of how much Primo loved me. Maybe she felt that if she couldn’t have him, then no one could. These are questions I will never know the answers to, nor will I ever be able to ask Margaret. Because even if she told me, it wouldn’t change the pain or the outcome.

I felt my entire world fall apart. Margaret gave permission for me to have his ashes. I decided to call the crematory myself and see if I would be able to see his body. I needed the closure. I thought maybe, just maybe, this was a mistake. Maybe I had only dreamed that Margaret did this. Maybe, just maybe he was still here. The crematory allowed me to come to the facility. My mother drove me. Christian couldn’t bear to see Primo. For me, it was necessary. I needed to be able to say goodbye.

It was a beautiful little place. There was a small building and then a little house sitting in the middle of the property. The gentleman working there took us into the little house. It was a viewing room and on the other side of a door was the crematory. There was also a window for those who wished to watch the entire process. As I stepped in, on a little table in a decorated woven wicker basket, laid Primo’s lifeless little body.

It was only then that I realized, with his cold little body, the flowers on the folded blanket on top of him, his sweet little eyes closed, that he was not coming back. I ran my hands over him. I wanted to memorize the moment. I wanted to memorize the feel of his hair as I ran my fingers through it. I wanted to memorize his smell. I wanted to memorize the feel of him in my arms once more.

As I took everything in, I willed him to breathe. With every ounce of strength and passion in me, I willed his heart to start beating again, willed for his eyes to open, and a miracle to happen that would make history. Because he was so special like that. But his eyes did not open, his chest did not rise, his heart did not beat.

My sanity has gone with him.

I collapsed over his body. I hugged him. I held his cold little paws. I wanted to warm him. All I could say was how sorry I was that this was done to him. I had to tell him he was coming home with us. Margaret had let him down. I kissed him and pet him. I held him in my arms and cried what seemed like the hardest tears I’d cried since my brother passed away. I cut off a little piece of his mohawk to keep forever. I wanted a part of him I could still touch and feel in my fingers. I did not want to leave him.

Even now I sometimes close my eyes and feel that hair and pretend he is still here. I’m not sure why I torture myself like that.

I will always feel a sense of responsibility that this happened to him. If I had only insisted on taking him more. If I had only insisted on keeping him forever since he fit in so perfectly with us. If only I had been able to stop this.

I have not talked to Margaret since the day she gave permission for me to sign for his ashes. I do not know if I will ever speak to her again. At least not now. I still feel so much anger towards her reckless decision. This did not have to happen. What I am more confused about, was she did this just one day after asking us to take him. The scuffle with the grandchild happened 4 days prior. So I know she was thinking of leaving Primo with us forever. Why didn’t she though?

The day after I found out Primo was gone, I had a very vivid dream about him. In the dream, we were outside at what looked like a festival of some sort. There were all sorts of other dogs running around. I kept walking around and calling for Primo. I couldn’t find him. Finally, he appeared. When I saw him, he ran away as if he was afraid. I would search for him again and find him. He would run away again.

Finally, I got down on my knees and called for him in the sweet voice I always did. This time he did not run away. He looked at me and then ran as fast as he could to me. He jumped into my arms and I held him in tears. He licked my face happily and I kissed him back. I wonder if it was just a dream – the neurological pulses of neurons electrically firing off in my brain as a reflection of my grief and thoughts – or if I had actually found Primo in another dimension.

In the dream, he was wandering alone. If this was another dimension, was he looking for me too? Was he afraid? Why didn’t he recognize me at first? Did he not recognize me because of the confusion of the transition? Did he know where he was? Was he happy? When it clicked in him, he ran to me quickly. I kept telling him how much I missed him and loved him. Was this really him? Will I see him again?

I find myself feeling panicked. Panicked realizing I will never see him again. I will never hold him again or see his smile. I will never see him happily playing with his favorite ball or slowly stalking our kitties to bark at them. I’ll never see him bothering Christian to excessively lick him. He’ll never lick my face again or jump into my lap on the couch or in the car.

I’ve desperately tried researching quantum mechanics in an effort to comfort myself with proof of an afterlife. That energy is never created nor destroyed, so his energy is out there. But where is it? Is it possible it’s with me? Does it stay with him? Does it stay where the longing happens? I long for his presence. I long to have him back. Or is his energy in another dimension away from me? Like in the festival dream? Is he confused? Is he scared? Does he know how anguished I am? Does he know how much he means to me? Does he know how badly I wish I could have intervened?

The choices of the one who did this I can never forgive. I need to hold him again. I need to know he is ok. I need to see him on the other side. I need to stop hurting.

Our world was shattered at the loss of Primo. In the two years we knew him, he made such an enormous impact on our lives. We loved him more than words could ever express. He was so wronged by this world. I wish I could have protected him from it.

I joined a pet grief support group. They recommended a couple of books to me. One of these books told of signs that deceased pets would leave for their owners when they were trying to communicate with them from the other side (finding coins being one of them.) After reading of these, I started to find pennies and dimes everywhere.

I started to find number arrangements and signs of Primo absolutely everywhere. There was no way it was coincidental. Every coin I find I put on top of his box of ashes. I even saw a pigeon with a little mohawk that looked just like his. One time I looked up songs on grief and a famous Beatles song “In My Life” was listed. The next day at work, that song came on the radio.

The depth of the pain I feel is a direct reflection of the deep love and affection I have for Primo. How much I loved him, coupled with the circumstances of his death, make his passing unbearable. I still cannot accept it. I need my little Primo here with me. I often think of that October morning when I saw Primo for the very first time. I did not know the love and pain I would experience that would come of his existence in my life.

I still work at the vet. We have to deal with euthanasia all the time. I am convinced Primo now has a very important job. Whenever there is a grieving family about to say goodbye to their pet, I feel a tingle throughout my body. It’s almost like an electrical current. I know it’s Primo. I know it’s Primo telling me, “Don’t worry, momma. I’m going to be waiting for them on the other side. I will tell them I am a friend of the nice blonde girl at the vet and I will take care of them. I will meet them on the other side.”

It is said that we all have a purpose in life. Maybe Primo’s purpose was to meet me that fall day on October 7, to ultimately find his way to the other side to help others. A very important job. His heart and soul were bigger than anything I’ve ever known. I miss my Primo. I still cry every day. Some days are harder than others. The hardest part about grief, is the rollercoasters of emotions. How some days it will be as if grief punches me in the gut as hard as possible, and I am choked by it. I cannot breathe.

All I can do now is stay strong for Primo and keep his memory alive. I find traces of him everywhere I go. I still find it hard to travel the road that passes by Margaret’s home. I have to find a detour.

The last spiritual visit I had from Primo was a powerful one. It was loud and clear. I walked into work and right as I walked in, there was a dog that looked identical to Primo in the face. They could’ve been twins. Even down to the mohawk. I held this little dog and it seemed like she melted into me as much as I melted into her. I couldn’t help but cry and tell her I loved her over and over. I felt like I was holding Primo once again and I was overwhelmed with emotion.

There is a song called “Fallen Embers” by the artist Enya that reminds me of Primo and one I listened to during the darkest times of my grieving. Right before the little dog left, I asked my coworker what the dog’s name was. My coworker looked at me said,

“Her name is Ember.”

Until we meet again, my sweetest little friend. 💔