*Warning this is a long and sad post. Grab a tissue and a chair and read on*
So you know that when things are not going well in my life, I don't post to my blog. I know this worries some of you and I really appreciate your concern. I spent some time reading my entries for the last five months and some haven't been pretty. I saw a lot of sorrow and sadness and depression. That is why I almost did not write about the death of my dog, Emily. I would be writing another downer post.
But I thought more about it and decided to share this story. For me, this blog serves several purposes. It is a creative outlet. It updates and amuses my friends and family. It is a place to showcase my photography and artwork. It is a constant source of horror and embarrassment for my husband. But mostly it is a journal, a memoir if you will, of my life. Of course, I can't share my most private issues with the internet, but I do have a written record of some of the most important moments of my life. And the record will show that the last few months have been kind of hard.
Emily was a part of our lives for 15 years. She came when Gary and I moved into our first house (well townhouse actually). We already had one dog (Tundra), but now that we were homeowners, I wanted another. I had to promise Gary that if let me get an additional dog, I would never again ask for a cat. Gary hates cats.
Emily was a purebred Golden Retriever. By purebred, I probably mean inbred. She was so sweet and loving, but she had bad hips and, honestly, wasn't the brightest bulb.
Can you believe that there is a web footed animal that doesn't naturally know how to swim? That was Emily. She loved the water. But as soon as she started to swim, her bottom would sink and she would start slapping the water with her paws. This always led to a great game of trying to catch the with her mouth. Eventually she had to be rescued because she would start drowning.
This caused a problem when we took her to dog heaven on Earth - St. Teresa beach. St. Teresa and John's beach house is a place where dogs are allowed to run free on the beach and swim in the warm Gulf of Mexico. Tundra loved St. Teresa beach. That is why we scattered her ashes there when she passed away eight years ago.
When Emily was at the beach, we had to watch her like we would watch a child (this is before we even had kids). She went under more than once.
One day I was at the pet store and found the help that Emily needed - a dog life jacket! Now when she went to the beach, she could swim all she wanted. She looked ridiculous, but it worked.
Once Emily was comfortable in the water, however, she presented us with another problem. Emily had a need to swim to the other side. In this case, the other side was Mexico! She would just head out swimming toward the horizon. We would call for her to come back, but it was like she was on a mission. Gary or I would have to swim far out to fetch her back to shore. And there are sharks in that water. Big ones!
The answer came in form of a ski rope. We started tying it to her collar. When she started heading toward open water, we would just reel her in like a big fish. Emily didn't mind. She would just paddle in and do her second favorite thing to do at the beach - roll in the sand.
Emily loved us unconditionally. She accepted each new baby as a member of her family. Honestly, I don't know how anyone with children does it without a dog. She always cleaned the floor of any food that was dropped or thrown. I never had to sweep.
Luke and Emily shared a special relationship. He was the only one of my boys that acknowledged her when he was little. He would pet her head and throw her food.
By the time she was four years old, Emily's face was completely white. It made her look older than she really was. Her hip problems started around that time too.
Two years ago she had a bout with vertigo that we thought would surely take her life. Emily was strong, however, and pulled out of it. But her advanced age was taking its toll. She started having difficulty getting up and walking. Somewhere along the line she went deaf and lost the vision in one eye. She also started showing signs of dementia.
Living with an elderly dog is kind of like living with your senile grandmother. She required a lot more care and she became very demanding. If she wanted to get up, she would bark until you helped her. If she was hungry, she would bark until you fed her. Sometimes her actions were kind of funny.
During the last election, we started calling her John McCain as a joke about John McCain advanced age. One night I let her out in the front yard to do her business. Forgetting how to get back in, she started walking down the road. I went back inside the house in a huff to get my shoes on so that I could go get her.
"What's wrong?' asked Gary.
"John McCain walked away from the White House and now he is halfway down Pennsylvania Avenue!" I replied and we both broke up with laughter.
Of course, I easily caught up with her and like always, she greeted me with a smile. It was as if she was saying, "Oh there you are. I was looking all over for you."
Emily's health started to deteriorate more rapidly in the last few months. She started sleeping much more and when she was awake she whined. We didn't know if she was in pain or if she wanted something. She stopped doing her favorite things like carrying around her toys in her mouth and obsessively licking everything. She used to lick spots into our carpet, earning her the nickname of Lesbian Dog. You make the connection.
The last few weeks of her life she was more disoriented and only woke to go outdoors. When I was honest with myself, I saw that the light had gone out of her eyes. My last memory of her being happy and excited was New Year's Eve when my sister, her family, my parents and neighbor, Mr. Dan came over for a party. She loved having everyone around and slept right in the middle of the action.
But really, how do you decide when to put your dog to sleep? When I thought about setting a date, it seemed more like an execution. I asked the Universe for a sign. Please, just something to tell me when.
Emily gave me my sign on Mother's Day when I returned home from the Inspired artist workshop in North Carolina. I came home to a puddle of diarrhea and vomit. I cleaned her up only to have it happen again. She was so out of it that when I tried to give her medicine, she bit me.
Just like elderly humans, old dogs can dehydrate rapidly. I knew that I could take her to the emergency vet where they would give her an I.V. and try fight her latest health battle. Or I could give her the gift of letting her go. I talked with her regular vet and we both agreed to see how she did overnight and make the appointment with him in the morning.
She didn't vomit again and had a peaceful night of sleep. Gary and I sat with her and cried often. We told the boys that she was very sick and probably would not make it.
Monday morning came and the vet's office called. I made the appointment for 11:30 that day. Gary could not go with me. He had to go to a business lunch. He said his goodbyes to her when he left for work.
So there we were - just the two of us in my vehicle, my hand scratching top of her head. The same way it was the day I brought her home from the breeder as a puppy.
The Vet had lowered an exam table and covered it with towels. I lifted Emily to it and sat down beside her. I held her head and cried into her fur. That is when Emily gave me the greatest gift. She licked my entire face. I can't remember the last time she did that. I used to yell at her all the time to stop licking me! It was like she was comforting me. Maybe she was saying that thank you and goodbye.
The vet tech gave her something to relax her and her head grew heavy in my hands. I know that she was still with me because every now and then she would open her eyes to look at me. The doctor asked if I was ready and I said yes. I held her sweet head as she slipped away. When I left her, she looked like she was napping peacefully.
I tried to be angry at Gary for making me do that by myself. But couldn't be mad because I wouldn't have had it any other way. Emily was so special and important to me. I'm so glad that could be with her in the end. She was with someone she loved and she wasn't afraid.
I chose to have her cremated. Next time we go to John's beach house, we will scatter her ashes in the Gulf of Mexico. After all, it is dog heaven.
