I consider D.O.G. to be a late wedding
present from our Best Man. Really; he was not even born when Colin & I got
married. Our Best Man got him a year after we
tied the knot. We too got a chocolate lab about the same time and the pups were
close in age.
At their very first play date, the dogs
seemed to be in love with each other instantly. It was so sweet to watch them
play. Instead of chasing after each other, they just laid around chewing and
kissing. I told my friend that he might need to be careful. We might just have
to take his dog too.
Unfortunately for my friend, he hit some
bumpy circumstances not long after and had to take me up on rehoming him. I got
D.O.G. when he was about 2 1/2 years old and he lived the remainder of his 12
years with me.
His name was pronounced
"Dee-Oh-Gee" which I occasionally alternated with simply saying Dog. He was a mellow, friendly
and happy boy. A black lab, who in his prime weighed 120lbs. -Literally my big
boy!
He suffered from a paralyzed
larynx, which was thought to be related to a thyroid issue. It was often
hard work for him to breathe, bark and eat but he didn’t let it stop him from
too many things, except chasing after the four-wheeler. He loved everyone and
his tail was always oscillating instead of wagging back and forth.
Last year he had surgery for a hematoma in his ear. The vet said that there
was too much swelling in his throat and they couldn't use the normal size tube
for a dog his size when they had to intubate him. Between that and the increase
in episodes of heavy breathing, we knew that he wouldn't make it another
summer.
***
I've always heard that your pets will let
you know when they are ready. I prayed that God would let me know when it was
time and for strength and for discernment in the decision. I also prayed for
his healing several times and I hoped that there was never a really moment
necessary for me to have to intervene. -Not just because I loved him; but
I don't really believe in killing anything unless you're going to eat it or if
it's trying to kill you. Mosquitos and ticks are my only exceptions and
truthfully, I'd be ok with finding harmony in their living too if they would
just stop biting...
With a paralyzed larnyx a dog can't open
or close their throat properly in order to pant or breath which means that they
can have a great deal of trouble cooling off. We knew the he couldn't be
outside if it was over 70. Thankfully, we never had any accidents.
The last Thursday that he was alive wasn't
a particularly hot day. We let him out in the evening while we ate dinner and
when he came in, he seemed a little restless. His nightly routine usually
consisted of a couple of hard breathing spells. This night, one spell just
continued on...
I put ice cubes in his water. I even tried
to feed him a few. He was not interested in eating or drinking which both were
HIGHLY unusual for him. He wandered around the house instead. Ordinarily,
he couldn't wait to lay down. When the kids settled to bed, Colin and I talked
about his health and how the "summer" was here... We both
acknowledged that his nights during the last week seemed to be getting harder
and harder.
I had a genius idea and remembered my husband’s
apnea mask. It's cold and moist and air! Why didn't I think of it sooner?!
Poor D.O.G. just sat there when I put the mask on him. It definitely
seemed to fit him well but his sweet eyes gave me this sad and ridiculous look
like "I will do this for
you Momma but it's really not helping me".
I tried to get him to lay beside me when
ordinarily he'd fall in my lap. This time he refused and then wandered around
some more. It was hard for him to go up and down my stairs. He'd started coming
upstairs the last week to sleep at night. This night, he made the trip up and
down several times, unable to find a place that he could relax.
For some reason I was up later that
evening. I think my heart knew that this would be a longer night. At 11 or
11:30 I tried to give him some pain meds, in case something was hurting causing
him to pant more. Once in a blue moon, medicine seemed to help. It was my
last effort to keep him home with me. Not sure what to do, I laid down, hoping
that he would ease. At 1:00am I heard him still breathing hard. While his
breathing didn't seem worse than what we'd grown used to, it had just gone on
too long for him. He looked tired and beside himself.
He wanted to go outside. When I opened the
door, he walked to the yard. I watched his black body as he walked off the
porch and descended out deeper into the darkness. He was a shade darker than
the night and so I could still see him. I don't know how to describe it but
something about his swagger just seemed to be asking the night "what do
I do?” He now seemed to be looking for something... and I knew we had to
go.
I got the keys and asked him if he wanted
to go for a ride. He waited for a second as if to consider the weight of my
question. Then he ran to me but stopped suddenly as if some part of him wanted
to go slowly off the porch. It was if he knew that it was the last
time. We walked the same way to the car.
I tried to let him ride shotgun but he
wouldn't do it. -Again, unusual... He got in the back and laid in the floor. He
became sicker, quickly. I'm not sure if it was the combo of meds and the ride
or just the way that it works out...
I think he was beginning to overheat.
At the vet, I opened the door and he
wouldn't get out of the car. He simply laid down relinquishing the right to
walk. Of course, he was a big dog cramped in a van. I got the attendants and
they put him on a stretcher and rolled him in. I had to go to the front to
complete paperwork while they helped him. Within minutes, they had him
"stable" in the back room but under anesthesia so that they could
intubate him. He finally looked so peaceful.
I felt like a heel for even thinking about
putting him to sleep. Although, again, I knew that this was going to happen. To
me, it seemed kind of like taking the "easy" way out. I expressed my
concerns to the vet but she quickly assuaged my fears. She said that he was at
the point that he needed this. There were surgical options but at his age with
the progression of his condition and the complications of the surgery, it would
have been hard on him. He did not need nor deserve anything harder.
She said that it would be really quick
because he was already asleep. She also said that because she had to disconnect
him from meds in one room and then start them again in another, she would need
to do it immediately so there wasn't much time for me to talk to him while he was
sleeping and of course, I couldn't go into the other room.
Boy, when she said it was quick, she meant
it! She disconnected him from the other room and wheeled him in there where I
was waiting. I was sad that I wasn't going to get to tell him I loved him
(again) with his eyes open or that I wasn't with him from the beginning of the
procedure (that already begun).
Not sure of what I should say, my heart
thought of Michael and I was thankful to be able to say good-bye
this time. Words just started spilling over. I leaned my cheek into the soft
fur of his chest and I could feel the slow thudding rhythm of his heart. She
placed one tube, followed by another tube into his IV. The slow rate continued
for a minute or so, and then I felt his pulse suddenly grow quick and then
suddenly stop. -And that was it.
There was no movement. No last breath. No
nothing.
Stopped.
The finality of it is hard to capture in words.
...
During the first week, I couldn't get over
how quiet the house was without him. Now into the third week, I can't stop
thinking about how much I miss him. When I picked up his ashes over the
weekend, it didn't seem right, fitting into one hand, someone that I ordinarily
had to lift with both arms in two loads. I just couldn't compute this new shape
or texture or size.
I know that to some, it might seem like God didn’t
answer a prayer for healing. But 2
Corinthians 4:16 says that we
are all perishing. Moving closer to the day is inevitable for each of us. My
prayers also included requests for strength and discernment as well. My
Lord answered me.
I might not have been sure before the moment
came that I could have handled it but when it arrived, there was no one else
that I would have let take my place. I would have fought to defend
it and I wanted to do it alone! My heart can't express the gratitude to
God for letting me be home when D.O.G.'s time came and
for not letting him die or suffer alone.
Retrospect is a wonderful tool that reminds
me of a kaleidoscope, as it gives you so many colorful nuggets to twist and
consider. It doesn't really help you change what has been done but it does help
you decide what you may have done differently. All the while, still looking
ahead... When I add to those flecks any Word that is on my heart, it really gives
me something to appreciate.
[So twisting my lens a little...]
While I am thankful to only have a few
regrets, I really wish that I had've thought to sing to him as he left. ...like
a lullaby. It probably doesn't make a lick of sense outside of my head but even
though I know it was meds that made his heart pick up speed; a part of me
wonders if my tone and rushing words scared him.
I am thankful to have had that opportunity
to speak my heart but I can't help but wonder if singing to [and for] him could
have made his last few moments that much more peaceful. My afterthoughts of
Michael's passing shared the same tone. It wasn't about saying words that I didn't say or getting
something off my chest. Any doubts that I had came from opportunities that I
may have missed to serve or soothe him as well.
Like that verse says, we
are all perishing. We can all also be renewed inwardly by our Maker;
drawing strength from his presence meditating on his Word. Adjusting our spiritual
lenses to allow what could be seen through his eyes. Also, we each take turns
[believers and non-believers alike] needing help at different times; being
strengthened, encouraged and consoled. We may not always see the evidence of
pain in those among us; or sadly, even their wasting away.
Romans
12:10 says to honor one
another above self. I don't think that by honoring someone else, their "to
do list" becomes more important than ours does. Yet somehow in my own
walk and attempts to be a "better" Christian, neighbor, co-worker I
sometimes get caught up doing and maybe even focusing on doing
a really great job or getting the task done, instead of trying to touch those that I am helping.
The KJV of Philippians
2:5-7 says "Let this
mind be in you, which was
also in Christ Jesus: Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to
be equal with God: But made
himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was
made in the likeness of men"
The "no reputation" gets me.
Don't we often acquire that reputation by being good helpers? Good doers. Hard
workers. However, "service" doesn't stop there. It's often only the
entry point for more. Don't we forget in the
"busyness" of serving that it is also to include soothing with
the salve of God's love [and ours]? Whether it is in prayer or a good word
or waiting to watch what isn't said and taking further directions
from there.
In a half paraphrased way 1
Corinthians 6:19-20 reminds us that if our body is a temple of the
Holy Spirit. Then we should fling
wide the doors of our heart,
as a sanctuary to those who need to enter, so that we can share the Love of
God. Because we are not our
own. He paid the price so
that we could reach beyond our
own desires [of doing] and
extend grace and mercy to someone else.
Let us not wait for the day to soothe but
seeking to soothe for the day instead. -Ooh just hold onto that nugget for at least a moment!
Oh what a gift it is to love. Living will always try to distract us from it!
D.O.G., Maddie and Carson 2007
RIP D.O.G. 2002-2014
