Saying Goodbye to Vic 😢

Yesterday, I had to say goodbye to my beagle Viclyn—Vic for short, sometimes Land Seal, sometimes SausageMcMuppy, sometimes Vicalickin. My heart is shattered. I don’t think I’ve ever felt pain this sharp.

Vic wasn’t just a dog. He was my constant, my comfort, my witness through so many losses—my mom, friends, exes, the fathers of my children, other pets. He was there for all of it, quietly loving me, keeping me steady. And now he’s gone.

Vic lived to be almost 14 years old, but his body couldn’t keep up with his youthful mind. He couldn’t do the things he used to—he wanted to, his mind was still sharp, still full of curiosity and energy—but his body was failing him. Yesterday, he gave me his last lick and his last tail wag. That moment is seared into me forever. His spirit was still bright, still playful, still full of love, even as his body slowed and eventually let him go.

I stayed with him until he went to sleep. I told him I loved him, I thanked him for everything, and I told him to find me again. I even told him that Pugbug—my first dog baby who helped raise Vic and Buster—would be waiting for him. I needed him to know he wouldn’t be alone.

He was deaf at the end, and part of me keeps thinking he couldn’t hear me. But I know he could feel me. Through my touch, my scent, my presence, my love. Dogs don’t understand “last times” the way we do. Vic didn’t know this was the last ride. He only knew he was safe, calm, and with his person.

I’m going to miss everything about him—the chin licks, the way he would giggle when I tickled his belly, his beagle howl that filled the house and made it feel alive, and how he would curl up to me whenever The Freshman by The Verve Pipe came on. I’ve thought a lot about why he liked that song. I don’t think it was the music itself—he felt the emotion, the energy, the way I reacted to it. To Vic, that song became our song. He came to me when it played, licked my face, sometimes howling softly, sharing the emotion with me in the only way he could.

Vic and his brother Buster came from the same litter. They were inseparable from the beginning. If one went to the vet, the other would cry until they were reunited. They argued sometimes—brothers do—but when Vic got sick, Buster knew. He’d lay close to him, quietly, offering comfort without needing to be asked.

Now I watch Buster grieve. He looks for Vic. He curls up where his brother used to lay. He pauses, listening for something that isn’t there anymore. Watching him search for Vic breaks my heart all over again, because I know exactly what that kind of absence feels like.

Today, I found myself changing the lyrics to The Freshman:

“When I was young, I knew everything.”

Vic—a beagle with a howl that lit up a room—was part of that “everything.” And now, I’m guilt-stricken, sobbing on the floor, trying to reconcile the fact that he’s gone and that I’ll never dance in the living room with him again, never hear his giggle, never see him curl up for our song.

Viclyn’s life wasn’t long enough, a dogs life never is, but it was full of love. He gave me laughter, companionship, comfort, and joy. He taught me patience, devotion, and what it means to truly love someone unconditionally.

I will miss Vic forever.

I will help Buster navigate losing his brother.

And somehow, slowly, we will learn how to breathe again in a house that still holds their love—even in the quiet.

Forever my Land Seal.

Forever my SausageMcMuppy.

Forever my Vicalickin.

Forever my Vic. 🤍

Peace, Love, Loud Music and A Beagles Howl,

Mickey

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1umEXpGHc0E

Always are song Vic Vic! I miss you so much my beautiful beagle baby. 😢