Written by Emilie Louise Gossiaux, read by Kirby
Tuesday, 9/16/2025
We put London down on a Sunday, on August 31st. There was a first quarter moon that night. I have been crying everyday since. I miss London so much.
Last week on September 7th, there was a full Moon. A lunar eclipse portal opened up and the veil between worlds thinned. Feeling her presence. I am welcoming the memories of her that make me laugh. It’s OK to laugh.
Last night: listening to music lying in bed with Kirby. I heard K snoring underneath the music and imagined it was London snuggling by my side on top of the fuzzy blanket. It felt healing and good, like the portal opened up and London came back. When I got out of bed to go to the bathroom, I felt London follow me in, as she would follow me around everywhere. I left the door open for her, and when I felt her walk in, I closed the door.
I went to the kitchen afterwards to fill up my Yeti, London hovered outside of the kitchen, observing me closely and watched me take a long drink of water. When I closed the refrigerator door, she came into the kitchen and drank water from her bowl.
Yesterday, K and I went downtown to city hall to lobby for the passing of bill 1138, that would make Universal daylighting law in New York City. I only had 3 hours of sleep, but I am proud of myself and of K, to care and do something that is greater than ourselves, that would make a great positive change, and to save more people’s lives from traffic violence. I don’t usually feel comfortable doing something like this, but as a survivor of traffic violence I felt this greater calling through K and all the children’s lives that have been lost in these crashes, and all the survivors, supporting me to step out of my comfort zone. This great loss I felt from London, and all the families who have lost loved ones. I can turn all this grief into power.
After the lobbying, K and I were going to stick around for coffee and hang out with Bobby, who is always great company, and is such a good friend. I was rapidly fading, and made a split second decision to just go home and pick up boba tea on the way at 68th street. We got London’s ashes finally, after being lost in the mail for almost two weeks. K wouldn’t have seen the mail truck and gotten London if we had stayed downtown for coffee. I think this was a karmic lesson. That night I prayed to the Universe that bill 1138 would pass.
The day before yesterday, on Sunday the 14th, I cleaned up and organized the set of black drawers next to my side of the bed. The day before we put London down, I gently brushed her hair while she was sleeping, and collected a small puff of her fur. I dumped out onto my side table, all the jewelry and random things I kept in my little porcelain dish that I made, and placed London’s small ball of hair inside of it. I touched it everyday, and noticed the way it was slowly disintegrating into material and dust. It no longer felt like her, but like the dirt that accumulates on the floor. On sunday, I cleaned out my dish, put all my jewelry and random little things away in an orderly and organized place. I laid out the crocheted lace my great grandmother made on top of the end table, made it beautiful. I didn’t know I was doing this at the time, but I have been making a place for London’s ashes when we got her back the next day, which was yesterday. I held the urn in my hands and shook the ashes inside of it, I started to break down and cry, imagining London’s big, soft, beautiful body is a collection of ash now. I carried her to bed next to me and cried. I thought burying her would have been better, to have a place to visit and come back to as a ritual, but there is no place I could have buried her to go back to that would have been permanent or meaningful to us. London and I have traveled all over the city and lived in different homes together. She is my home. I want to be buried with London’s ashes sprinkled over my body. I think that is where she would want to be.
I am thankful to all my friends who have shown me support since London passed. I think the actions we do, or the energy we put out makes an impact on the energy in the Universe. K’s parents gave us so much food and veggie Japanese curry. G and R made us dinner and brought wine. G also gave me a beautiful bouquet of flowers. White, pink, blue and purple flowers that reminded me of London, K and me together. SC sent a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers. D and J sent me Snap Dragons and Tiger Lilies that bloomed over the course of two weeks and smelled so sweet like dreams. Then B and A from FSS sent pink Carnations and white Roses.
Everyday I have been drawing flowers. Feeling how they open up and bloom, shrivel up and die, petals and leaves decaying on the table.
My left knee and ankle has been hurting since we picked up all the carpets and rugs that were on the floor for London’s mobility. Maybe we should put them back.
Wednesday, 9/17/2025
Survivor support. Mapping your body to address pain and trauma.
Last weekend on Saturday, we waited all day again for London’s ashes to arrive, but no one came. We had been waiting for over a week. I had imagined the worst, that London’s ashes exploded out of the urn and all over the cardboard box like she tried to get out.
My cochlear batteries stopped charging because the battery charging unit suddenly broke. This is the second time. After cursing and high stress in a panic I went through my whole set of drawers next to the bed to find my old cochlear implant device and prayed that it still worked. Thankfully it works, but it’s still falling apart. I realized that with London’s absence, that I couldn’t crawl up to her bed and hold her for comfort. This hit me hard.
Thursday, 9/18/2025
K and I got our flu and covid vaccines today. Our pharmacist was from Mississippi.
I love Kirby so much.
There is a fear I’ve been hiding and burying down. K helped me release this fear, and that I can trust him, and be honest with him. London taught me the true meaning of trust. How to build a strong foundational relationship through honesty and consistency.
The feeling of fear is, that I have lost London, and I am afraid of death and more drastic change.
Death is part of the process of being reborn.
That is what change means.
Friday, 9/19/2025
Felt like shit the morning after vaccinations. Foot shocks, back ache, and brain fog. It got better around the afternoon, but my left leg still feels extra tingly and sensitive.
The world is so depressing. Artists studios burning down in Brooklyn. So many people dying in Gaza. Hatred towards trans and BIPOC people. When, how will I get better? What do I need to do to feel better? When will I be happy again?
Things that excite me that will make me happy :
Getting a new Guide dog.
Moving to a new home with Kirby.
I will be OK. I will keep honoring her. She wants me to move on.
Monday, 9/22/2025
It’s the Autumn equinox. A clean slate after the New Moon last night. My knee is starting to feel better, which is a huge relief. The portal is closed and all the pain my body held onto and remembered from the loss is almost gone.
Friday, 9/26/2025
We arrived in New Haven yesterday, and today K composted all of London’s flowers.
M and K are grilling hot dogs (vegan): Lite Life, “Smart dogs”. Hearing smart dog quickly and unexpectedly drew tears to my eyes. London was a smart dog. I quietly cried sitting at the kitchen table while vegan chili simmered on the stove behind me. The last time we ate vegan chili dogs was when we had been preparing for London’s end of life appointment. This feels very strange.
Our first night in New Haven, K and I cried in his bed together, feeling London’s absence is stronger here. She should be here, in her spot in the corner next to our bed. I didn’t know that I would feel so strongly this way, that London should be here too. We should have brought her ashes, but at least we composted her flowers. That feels right at least. This is the first time she is not here in New Haven with us, the place where we became a family.
Today is also a month after her birthday.
The days leading up to putting London down,
on Sunday, 8/31/2025
On either Tuesday or Wednesday is when London lost interest in eating treats and wouldn’t take her medication even with peanut butter. It was after her 15th birthday on the 26th, which was a Tuesday. We had been tightly holding on to the idea that if we could help London feel better with pills and meds, that everything would be OK and she could live another year.
I can still feel the day in my body. Sitting at the kitchen table, after a meeting on Zoom, which was on Wednesday the 27th, the day after her birthday. I knew I had to call it, that the decision would ultimately be mine. I remember the feeling down to my bones. The air became completely still. my body went rigid. My hands clasped together on the table, looking in the direction of London’s bed, and nodding to myself, then looking straight ahead. Holding my breath, holding back the tears to be strong for K and London. Still, my throat closed up. It was as though my mind heart and body split and I somehow pulled my laptop in front of me on the table, and K helped me write the e-mail to the veterinarian hospital to request the appointment to put London down. The vet said, once London stops doing the things that she loves, that is a clear sign that that was the end. I put my head down on the table and sobbed, my chest and shoulders shaking up and down. I felt my heart fill up all the room in my chest, and then it broke into thousands of pieces every time I drew in a breath and it came bursting out. I reached rock bottom.
London made the decision for us. She held it together until the very end. That’s how much she loved us.
In the hospital on the floor, when the doctor injected the first drug into London’s right wrist, she didn’t tremble or spasm. I held her head in my lap, and felt her blink and her tongue gently licking her lips, testing the taste of the sleeping medicine in her mouth. “Such a good girl, London. Good girl. Good girl, London”, I praised her over and over again, the last words she would hear as she died in my hands, I kissed her head and her eyes, her nose. “Such a brave girl, so good, so brave.”
When the doctor injected her with the drug that would stop her heart, I held my hand over her shoulder, close to her chest to feel her heartbeat. After half a minute, she was gone. Her head, which was always so heavy, so forceful suddenly became weightless in my hands. I let go, and it fell to the padded blanket beneath her. The shock hit me like nothing else. It was my first encounter with death. Her body was there but she was gone. “She’s gone.” I said to Kirby, panicking, “she’s gone”. Kirby gently closed her eyes, and we sat with her body. She was no longer there. She couldn’t hear us, see us, or feel us anymore. Just nothing. The vet gave us a minute alone, then we left the room with London behind. For the first time, London wouldn’t follow us out, or come home with us. I stood in the doorway, turning back at her on the floor, and I broke down into sobs.
Somehow London knew. She knew, and she was so calm lying before us on the hospital floor. We had thirty minutes with her alone before the nurse came in to put in the line. she and the doctor were late).
We laid London down on Kirby’s Hello Kitty towel, which became London’s towel over time. We both talked to her and cried. My tears falling on London’s face, I couldn’t tell if they were her tears or mine. When Kirby broke down in to ugly tears too, London looked up at him, as if to say “Come on, man. Pull yourself together.” She was so funny. Whenever I stopped touching and petting her, she would look up at me too. Then when I resumed to touch her, her head would fall back into my hand as I scratched and rubbed her ears. “So good, London. I love you so much, brave girl. “Good London.”
On the 30th of August, the day before we put London down, I planned to go to a friend’s Virgo picnic in the park, but I backed out. I couldn’t leave London alone on her last day in our home. She wasn’t eating, and she mostly slept the whole day. So quiet, calm, and beautiful. I imagined light coming in from the windows and bathing her in a golden glow. It still didn’t feel real. London didn’t want to eat her dog food, wet or kibble, and turned her head away when we offered her Charlie bears. K walked pass our kitchen shelf, saw the hot dog buns and thought, “What the hell?”. Kirby fed her a hot dog bun, and she ate the whole thing hungrily and graciously. Shock. This was the most exciting development in days of London refusing to eat anything. I immediately sat on the floor with her in front of her bed, and hand fed her a second helping of hot dog bun. Breaking it up for her into little bite sized pieces, that she could chew and swallow. “Let’s make her chicken,” I told Kirby, and she ate more chicken and hot dog buns for breakfast and dinner. This was the happiest we had been, and London was so good to eat for us.
Wednesday, 10/1/2025
We got back from New Haven two days ago, and last night was the opening celebration at the Wythe Hotel in Williamsburg. Anxious to be out and around in public again. I felt better when K stood next to me and put his hand on my shoulder.
I am learning to be more gracious and brave.
Drinks and dinner on the roof after the opening. The atmosphere was gentle, and the food was delicious.
When Liz and I went to the bathroom together, she told me that a friend of a friend that she knew was hit on her bike and run over by a Tesla. So fucked up and fucking sad. Over dinner, we talked about how we are both going through huge changes in our lives. What will happen next?
There will be a full moon on the 6th. I’m going to start an application for a new Guide dog partner soon. It’s time to make a decision and to commit. London was a big commitment that I wasn’t fully aware of in the beginning. I thought, Oh! A Guide dog is a tool that will make my life easier, and I am/was a responsible person. I didn’t know how deeply I would fall in love with her, and how tangled up my emotion and spirit would be with hers. I can smell her now sitting next to me here on the couch.
Will I love my new Guide dog just as deeply?
Will she want to be a collaborator too?
Thursday, 10/2/2025
This morning, K texted me on his way to work:
“I can’t stop thinking about how lucky I am that you let me into your life and how much I enjoy our time together. Almost to the office. ❤️ love you lots!!!”
Thursday, 10/16/2025:
K and I both missed her a lot today. For some reason she kept popping up in our minds, out of nowhere there she is. Then I remembered that I had sent in my application for a new Guide dog this morning. I told this to K and we both agreed that is why she’s all over the place today.
Things that I have learned, or how I’ve changed since London passed away on August 31st.
Choosing to love is not a sign of weakness.
Vulnerability is not a sign of weakness, it’s a sign of strength.
How to trust, how to soften myself and open up and surrender to love. I fell in love with an animal. I can fall in love again.
(c) 2025 Emilie Gossiaux