Saying Goodbye to Gia: The Hardest Day of My Life

Losing a pet is heartbreaking, but losing a pet who has been by your side for 15 years is a different kind of pain. Gia wasn’t just my dog. She was my best friend, my shadow, my constant companion since the third grade. I knew, logically, that her time was coming. She was old. But nothing could have prepared me for how fast it all happened.

The Days Leading Up to Goodbye

Gia had been acting completely normal in the days before she passed. One of my friends had been staying with me, and Gia was her usual self. She ran to the door when I walked in, jumped onto the couch, and tried to steal food whenever she got the chance. She was full of life, and for a moment, I let myself believe that maybe we had more time.

But then, on the last day of my friend’s trip, something changed. Gia didn’t greet me at the door. She wasn’t jumping up on the couch. She wasn’t even trying to steal food, and that’s when I knew something was wrong.

My friend and I had gone to lunch before work, and before we left, we set our leftovers on the ground. Normally, that would have been a huge mistake with Gia around. She had a sixth sense for food and would tear into anything she could reach. But that night, when I walked back into my apartment, the food was still untouched. There was no mess, no empty containers. Just Gia, hiding in the other room, refusing to come to me.

My heart sank. I immediately broke down crying, knowing this could be the end.

The Night That Felt Like Forever

I scooped Gia up and FaceTimed my parents, completely hysterical. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t form a full sentence. I just sobbed. My parents tried to calm me down, saying she might be going blind or deaf, that she was probably just disoriented, and that I should take her to the vet in the morning. But I think we all knew what was coming.

I called one of my best friends, Wyatt, who loved Gia more than most people. I asked if he could take her to the vet in the morning if I couldn’t because I had an exam at 8 a.m. But deep down, I knew I needed to be the one to take her. I had a horrible feeling that I was going to have to make the decision no pet owner ever wants to make.

That night felt like it lasted forever.

Gia couldn’t breathe. I’d put her on my bed, and she’d jump off and run into the other room, trying to be alone. I was terrified of waking up and finding her gone. I barely slept. Every time she moved, I was up, checking on her, making sure she was still breathing.

By 7 a.m., I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. I got her up and decided to take her on one last sunrise drive to the refuge, her favorite place.

One Last Ride

Gia loved riding in the car, especially in the mornings when the world was quiet. As we drove to the refuge, I tried to hold back tears. I didn’t want her last moments to be filled with sadness. I wanted her to feel peaceful, happy, and loved.

When we got there, I carried her to the edge of the lake, and we sat together in silence. She smiled at me one last time, crawled into my lap, and rested there, listening to the water and the wind.

I could have stayed there forever, but I knew I had to get her to the vet.

The 15-minute drive back felt like the longest 15 minutes of my life. Gia started shaking, foaming at the mouth, and slipping in and out of consciousness. I felt helpless. I just kept talking to her, begging her to hold on, telling her how much I loved her.

When we got to the vet, she was barely there. At that point, I didn’t even know if she was still alive. The people at the vet were less than helpful, and honestly, I don’t even want to get into that part.

By the time it was over, I was completely numb.

The Support That Kept Me Going

After losing Gia, I knew I would be heartbroken, but I wasn’t prepared for the overwhelming love and support I would receive from the people around me.

My friends and family checked in on me every single day for weeks. They texted, called, and made sure I was okay. I received so many messages, comments, and calls from people who had loved Gia too.

At first, I thought it would make me feel worse, like I was being constantly reminded of what I had lost. But instead, it comforted me. Knowing how many people had memories with her made me realize how full her life had been. She wasn’t just my dog. She had been loved by so many.

It reminded me that Gia had truly lived the best life a wiener dog could have.

Going Home Without Her

I drove two hours home to bury Gia under her favorite tree in our yard. That drive was so strange. Coming home without her was heartbreaking, and what made it worse was seeing my other dogs looking for her.

That first day, I called her name at least five times before remembering she was gone. Each time, I broke down in tears all over again. My routine felt wrong. I kept expecting to see her following me around, waiting for food, curling up in her favorite spots.

It took a long time to adjust.

The Guilt of Moving On

A few months later, I got a puppy. At first, I felt so guilty. I felt like I was betraying Gia by loving another dog. I worried that I was moving on too fast, that I was trying to fill a void that couldn’t be filled.

But over time, I realized something important. Getting a new dog didn’t mean I loved Gia any less. It didn’t mean I had forgotten her. It just meant I still had love to give.

Gia taught me how to love unconditionally, how to be patient, how to care for something with my whole heart. And because of her, I was able to open my heart again. The new puppy didn’t replace Gia, but she brought new joy into my life.

What Gia Taught Me

Losing Gia was one of the hardest things I’ve ever experienced, but it also taught me so much about love and loss.

1) Saying goodbye is never easy. Even when you think you’re prepared, you never truly are.

the love never leaves. Just because they’re gone doesn’t mean the love disappears. Gia will always be with me.

2) It’s okay to move forward. Grief and new love can exist at the same time. Loving another dog doesn’t erase the one you lost. It means your heart is big enough to hold both.

3) I still miss her every single day. Some days, it still hurts just as much as it did that morning in the car. But now, when I think about her, I try to focus on the good. The 15 amazing years we had together. The unconditional love she gave me. And the peace of knowing that in the end, she knew she was loved.

I was there for her when she needed me most, just like she had always been there for me. And that’s what truly matters.