How to lose a dog in seven weeks | Sep + Oct (dog) photo dump
Rest in peace you beautiful creature
Dear,
This is a story of how I lost my dog in seven weeks. It’s deeply personal. If you’re not a dog lover or a pet owner and don’t get why people feel so intensely about their animal companions, feel free to skip this one. I’ll catch you next time. 🫶🏼
-Nani
PS. If the post is too long for your email, head over to Substack to read the rest of it.
Week One: The bleeding
I noticed the bleeding on a Sunday afternoon in late August, right before leaving for a photo shoot at a nearby manor.1 I had called my sister-in-law, our “super vet,” because I knew this wasn’t normal. She confirmed my suspicions.
“Yeah, it’s a bit troubling. See if you can book a vet for tomorrow to rule out pyometra”, she advised.
Ruuti had just experienced her previous heat four months ago, so this was unusual for her nearly 14 years; she had always followed a pattern of going into heat every nine months, almost to the day.
On Monday, I called vet after vet—no openings. Finally, the third clinic I tried had a slot that afternoon. I cried my eyes out in the waiting room, but Ruuti was her usual happy self, exploring the space.
“Everything looks normal for now. Sometimes they get these disorders, and we’ll hope this is just one of those times,” the vet said.
No pyometra this time, but I knew the downhill had started.
Week Two: The eye
Ruuti hadn’t been joining us for longer walks since she hurt her foot back in May. All summer, I’d driven her to the woods, so she wouldn’t strain her arthritic feet getting there.
One fine day in early September, we explored a new area—a lovely path through birches and pines, with plenty of hay, moss, and a bit of brushwood.
The next morning, Ruuti squinted her right eye. I applied some moisturizing drops, thinking it was due to dry eyes, a common issue in older dogs. But it didn’t help.
“If it’s a wound, she needs to be checked ASAP,” my sister-in-law texted back, her tone almost audible through the screen.
I was going out of town the next day, so I brought Ruuti along and hoped to find an appointment between my meetings. Thankfully, Ruuti was a seasoned traveler, and both my clients were dog lovers.2
The diagnosis was a wound in the eye. The vet prescribed a new treatment, and our journey of eight doses a day began.
Week Three: The Eye, again
One week later, we saw my sister-in-law, the Super Vet.
“I think she needs a specialist,” she said, explaining that the dryness likely made her eye worse. We agreed I’d book a specialist if things hadn’t improved by the weekend.
Though Ruuti’s eye was looking better, she was struggling. She’d collapse if she stood still for more than ten seconds, kept her eyes closed, and bumped into things. Being both deaf and nearly blind was hard for her.
As you might guess, things didn’t improve—though the bleeding had now stopped entirely—and by Tuesday morning, I was ready to start calling specialists.
Week Four: The Eye, turn for the better
I remain immensely grateful to the professional at Vetson who recognized that Ruuti needed immediate care and squeezed us in. Just a couple of hours later, we met with the eye specialist, Lotta Axelson.
“Does she use Optimmune3?” she asked.
When I said no, her face lit up.
“I can’t promise a quick recovery, but I think this will help a lot. It’s so important for her eye’s wellness to stay moist,” she explained. Ruuti’s anterior chambers were so swollen that she could hardly see.
We went home, feeling hopeful.
Week Five: The Bleeding returns
Ruuti’s eyes improved quickly. By late September, she could see better and wasn’t in pain anymore. But on the day of our annual photo session4, I noticed she was cleaning herself again. She was bleeding.
My heart sank, and I panicked.
Still, there was no need to rush to the emergency vet as long as Ruuti stayed her happy self. We had already decided not to pursue sterilization at her age, so there was little anyone could do for her estrus disorder. She was better than she had been in a while.
Later that week, we headed to Tampere, but the bleeding worsened. That morning, I booked another ultrasound, preparing ourselves to say goodbye.
Week Six: Hopeful news
The ultrasound revealed something, likely an ovarian cyst or a tumor that was causing the estrus disorder, though nothing immediately fatal. Still, I knew we were nearing the end.
Perhaps because of this, I was grateful to visit Vetson again. Lotta’s face lit up when I shared how much better Ruuti was feeling.
'I knew it! I was so happy to hear she wasn’t on it yet,' Lotta said, beaming. I can only imagine the satisfaction that comes from knowing the solution is—just this once—so simple.
Ruuti was already halfway out the door when I paused to explain our situation. Lotta said something that stayed with me: “To the grave with clear eyes.”
Week Seven: The End
I woke up at 2:17 am on Wednesday, sensing something was wrong. Ruuti ate, played, and was her usual self. But the bleeding had continued, and she wasn’t able to rest.
I cried the whole Wednesday. Only my Italian lesson at 2 pm gave me a brake. In the evening I texted the Super Vet, and we arranged an ultrasound for Thursday evening.
Thursday was a busy day. I was producing a podcast episode in the morning, and really didn’t have the time to go for a walk during my office hours. But the idea that this could be our final walk together made me go.
She sniffed trees, the wind, the earth—absorbing everything. I had brought my camera with me, and I took some photos.
At 6 pm I met Super Vet at the clinic. The ultrasound showed her uterus was now filled with something. We could have bought her a bit more time with antibiotics, but… why?
After a call home and a text to my mom, I made the decision to let go. Ruuti fell asleep in my lap, finally able to rest.
When it was all quiet, we took her outside and let our younger dog, who had waited in the car, say her goodbyes.5
Thank you for taking the time to read this and for honoring Ruuti’s memory with me.
She played an important role in my photography business, having been part of it since I set it up when she was less than a year old. Her photos served as great icebreakers in many conversations with new clients, allowing them to feel connected to me because they enjoyed looking at her pictures.
I’m not sure which of us got more out of the session; my client went home with beautiful photos, but I walked away with a bit of therapy. Chatting with fellow dog owners about our dogs is one of life’s best comforts.
In the end, Ruuti was an integral part of both meetings that day. One turned into a lakeside meeting, where my client kindly took out her own dog’s blanket from the car so Ruuti could nap comfortably by the shore. After our vet visit, I did a photo session nearby, and Ruuti, worn out from the day, alternated between resting on a terrace and napping in the car.
Optimmune, a cyclosporine ointment, increases tear production. Read More: https://www.petmd.com/pet-medication/cyclosporine-ophthalmic-ointment
Each year, I capture photos of our child as he reaches the milestone of ‘half a year.’ This was our third session, and we were all delighted to have Ruuti join us.
When we got home, she climbed into my lap, sat there for 15 minutes, and cried. I may know a lot about dogs, but I know nothing about what it means to lose your only companion of the same kind.
Voi Nani, itken kanssasi. ♡ Ruuti sai niin hyvän, täyden elämän.
Those furry friends, beyond words! I've had many, buried some of them, know the feeling ❤️