Manifestations of Abandonment Part 3

Have you ever had a pet you loved deeply and had to part with? I know many of you have, but I am not referring to parting as in a dearly departed. I am talking about a pet you were forced to give up. The reasons may vary, but I think at some point, many of us have that experience. For someone who was once abandoned, this is especially difficult. We understand being left and discarded. When we are forced to do that to an animal, it hits differently. We come to realize we have now done to an animal what has damaged us to our core, and the guilt and self-loathing over the act stay with us. Maybe forever. Mine is certainly still dancing around in my heart and soul.

Abandonment is a serious, long-term, and deeply painful wound. Victims often never get over it, and some never dispel its effects. Some issues and consequences become part of your DNA. There is no changing something in your DNA. It’s science. Anyway, I shared some of those issues and consequences with you in part 2 of this series. Now we get to a closely related story. Hamlet.

No, I won’t be discussing the trauma of having to suffer through Shakespeare. That is a trauma on the same level as abandonment. All kidding aside, I am speaking of my beloved dog Hamlet, the Rottweiler.

I inherited the Rottweiler puppy from my dad when he decided to up and move to pursue a relationship with a woman in another state. He didn’t want to take him, so I got this adorable puppy and raised him. At sis months old, my baby was 130 pounds and stood on his hind legs taller than I am. Yes, I am short. Sue me. I loved that dog. He was my heart.

Rottweilers look menacing and scary, but they are not very bright and behave like two-year-olds most of their lives. The breed has no concept of how big and strong it is, so you need to strengthen your legs if you are planning to own one. They believe they are lap dogs. Oh yes. I know what you are thinking. Noway can that be true, but it is. Hollywood inflates everything to the size of every actor’s ego.

I would come home from work, and the little pup would run from wherever he was wreaking havoc in the house and lunge to greet me, often knocking me to the floor. He was a loving and loyal giant with a serious fetish for shoes, like his mother (me).

I discovered his propensity one day when I came home to find that my teething child had chewed one shoe from each of my favorite pairs. You read that right. He destroyed one side, left or right, of each pair. Mind you, not my everyday shoes. He had discerning tastes. He went straight for the best of the best, alligator pumps, snakeskin flats, and leather boots. He must have been one of three options: very hungry, very bored, or very mischievous. Maybe he was all three.

At the time, I was dating and later living with the man who would become my husband in my first ill-fated marriage. That’s another story. Don’t ask. He was not working and only took odd jobs here and there. He made little and then squandered what he earned on no good.

Long story short, I had a hard time making rent, paying bills, and covering food costs for two people on the meager salary of a young waitress. We, I, I suppose, lost my home. I lost everything, actually. I held on to the dead weight, though. I don’t know, so don’t ask me what I was thinking. I don’t think I could be accused of thinking back then.

We ended up sleeping on the floor of his aunt’s two-room studio apartment. I would disparage that arrangement. I had a roof over my head, food to eat, and a vehicle to get to work. That was fortunate, and I am grateful for it. But I did lose my baby, Hamlet.

My boyfriend’s aunt had a cocker spaniel and could not house a dog heavier than she was, so I was forced to make a decision that still haunts me.

There was a transition period when my boyfriend assured me he had a friend who could take him. The psychological trauma from what I discovered meant he would put my dog in a vacant, abandoned mobile home and visit him to feed him and provide water. It is a scar so deep that it would take more oceans to fill it than exist on our planet. I was taken there to see Hamlet, in conditions neither man thought cruel, and I cried.

I immediately took my dog and drove him to the shelter. If I could not properly care for him, I would pray that someone would adopt him and love him as deeply as I did. Pause.

It is hard to discuss this, and my eyes are watering, burning my cheeks. It was a failure on my part to be a good steward and provider for my dependent pet. For years, I beat myself up, believing I could never say I loved him, knowing I had given him up. I know it seems irrational. Abandonment victims do not always do things that are rational. Now, in my mind, I understand that giving him up when I could not take good care of him is still love on some level, but my heart will not give me leave to accept that. I still hurt.

The entire process drained my tear stores and my emotional bank account, leaving me empty, like a shell without its hermit.

I went back to the studio apartment and stewed. I thought, rethought, and then thought some more about what I had just done. I could not live with the decision or with myself.

I got in my car and went to pick him up. I decided I would rather live in my car until I found a place to live than part with the love of my life. How could anyone love him more than I? And how could I abandon him as I had been abandoned? I could not. That’s when my heart was ripped from my chest. It was also when I was spared a lifetime of self-reproof and self-loathing.

I arrived at the shelter, not four hours after I had dropped him off. I was anticipating the excitement in Hamlet’s eyes when he saw me. I asked to pick up my dog and to rescind the placement of my pet for adoption.

It took a couple of minutes, and then a nice woman came out front and sat next to me. My heart dropped. Did they euthanize my dog that quickly? I had left clear instructions that if he was not adopted and that was the intent down the road, they should call me and I would take him. The tears started flowing.

She then told me that one of the employees saw Hamlet check in and went to pet and look at him. He fell in love with my puppy. He immediately adopted him and took him home to his other dog. This is where my healing began in part.

I did have some relief that Hamlet was appreciated for his goofy and loving demeanor. I was grateful that he had a good home to live in, even if he grieved for me.

I imagine that at some point, the memory of me would fade, if not pass, but that did nothing for my guilt. All of this might seem trite to many of you, but abandonment makes a lot of your thought process and emotional or psychological process irrational. Some things will always seem over the top to others. Welcome to my world.

I often wonder if giving up a human being or two, in the case of my mother leaving us, gave her even a glimmer of the despair and guilt I experienced over Hamlet. Maybe on some level. Maybe not on any.

I have a difficult time reconciling the idea of leaving a human, a child of your own, and abandoning them, knowing how it felt for me with my pet.

Intellectually, I understand that circumstances made her decision necessary or the only option. Emotionally and psychologically, I can come to terms with ever doing that to your child. I just can’t. I have tried, but my mind and heart cannot seem to see eye to eye.

I share this with you all because I need to help anyone out there who may be thinking about abandoning someone understand the consequences. I want them to seek another solution. Leaving and running away may remove you from the situation, but the ones you leave behind will forever pay the price for that choice. That price is high. The abandonment will be a chimera that hides in every little act, thought, decision, and emotion the one you leave will ever experience.

I will give you this: if you have done that or plan to, the victim can survive it. The victim can and will overcome it. The victim eventually becomes the victor, and you are the one who loses what could have been.

Don’t leave people, your children, behind. If circumstances warrant ending the relationship as a parent, find a way to stay in their lives. Be there. Forgiveness, then, for you and them will come far more quickly and with less trauma for both parties.

Most of all, forgive yourself and ask for theirs. Neither of you needs to carry such a heavy burden. Redemption is possible.

(Published by Illumination on Medium, June 2026)

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