What It Means to Love a Dog

I read something this weekend that made me cry.  Now, it's not that this is so very unusual.  In the right mindset, even Spongebob Squarepants can make me verklempt.  But this article got me in the gut, because it expressed precisely what I am feeling in this season of my life.  Perfectly--the laughter and the tears. 

It's a My Turn essay by Anna Quindlen, who is one of the Last Word columnists for Newsweek.  I generally love her stuff, but she knocked this one right out of the park.  If you are a dog lover, please read it here.  If you are not a dog lover, don't bother, since you will not understand. 

Quindlen is nursing a 15-year-old dog through what we assume are its last days.  Her dog, Beau, is nearly blind and deaf, prone to long moments of forgetting who and where he is.  (Yes, elderly dogs do that too, just like elderly people.  Who knew?)  She gives him his meds and cleans up his accidents and props him upright when his unreliable back legs start splaying out underneath him. 

And for the last few years, that's precisely what we've been doing too.  Our once-indefatigable cocker spaniel, Halilah, has been slowly failing for ages.  First it was the heart problems, for which she takes daily medication; the vet told us last July that she was nearing the end.  Our once-obese and gluttonous spaniel, who used to dig into the garbage at every opportunity, had lost a third of her body weight and had to be coaxed into eating.  We were amazed that she made it to Cincinnati with us for the move.  And then it was her kidneys, which the new Ohio vet told me in September were failing fast.  And yet she hung on.  We were astonished that she made it to Christmas.  She got a reeeeally nice dog treat that day.

And then one horrible day in early March, I was in my office on the second floor and I could hear her wheezing in the kitchen.  I rushed down to find that she'd gotten stuck under a chair and couldn't get out.  She was in some respiratory distress.  When I took her to the vet, the prognosis was grim: we were in hospice, with no more than two weeks to go.  We needed "to make some decisions."  We needed to say good-bye.

My dear, we're still good-byeing.  That was six weeks ago.  If Halilah weren't entirely deaf I would swear she heard the vet and decided right then and there to prove the doctor wrong.  She began eating again the very next day.  She's still thin as a rail, but happy to be here and in no apparent pain other than her perpetual stiffness.

If she makes it to July, it'll be her Sweet Sixteen. But for the last year, I've been grateful for each morning that I go downstairs and find her still breathing.  It is enough.  Each morning I dispense the meds and clean up the diarrhea, reassuring Halilah that she is still a good dog; I know she couldn't help it. I carry her up and down the stairs to go outside. I lay down a fresh bed for her by the back door.  Her bed is made out of clean old towels, which carry a wallop of emotion in themselves.  Just as Halilah was a new dog to us when we were first married, these were our wedding towels way back in 1991.  (We received 14 sets.  What can I say?  I guess they ship well.)  So I lay down the tattered, well-loved towels and I muse about the passage of time.  I don't know where it's gone.

It all feels precious to me. Every bath, every haircut I give Halilah may be the last one, so I make sure to cuddle her extra close.  She is not going to be with us much longer, despite all the times she has beaten the odds.  Soon enough, she'll be off chasing squirrels where the best dogs go. I'm not quite sure how I'm going to bear it, the loss of this shadow who has been a constant and faithful companion all these years. But I'm going to be ever grateful for the love she has showered on our family.  Making her comfortable in these latter days doesn't feel like much of a payback, to be honest, but it's what I can do. 

Comments

[lisa]

Aww, sweet little Halilah. Blessings on you as you care for her, Jana.

[Carolyn]

Hi Jana. I'm really sorry to hear about your dog being so sick. I know it's hard to watch a loved dog grow old. My family had a special dog when I was a child. It was strange to watch her grow very old and ill. In the end my parents decided to have her put to sleep. We were all very sad over it, but we didn't want her to have to suffer so much. What is your opinion on euthanaisa?

[Deborah Raney]

YOUR column brought tears to my eyes, Jana. We're cat people, but the love we have for our long-time pets is the same. I'm so sorry. Yet I know you'll treasure so many memories, and look back on even these last days with Halilah as a gift.

[Jana]

You know, I don't have strong feelings against euthanasia for animals (except that I think that some people are too quick to do it). We've taken a wait-and-see approach with our pets. Our other dog, Abi, had a congenital heart defect that was severe enough that the vet said she probably wouldn't live past a year. She wound up living for eight, but her failure at the end was rapid and terrible enough that we were grateful to have the option of euthanasia if only to spare her a couple of hours of intense suffering there at the end.

With Halilah, these decisions are getting closer. She had a major seizure this morning. If those become common, well, we may move closer toward that decision. She was terrified by the seizure (and so was I, for that matter). I just talked to the vet and there's not a lot we can do. Euthanasia frightens me because I feel that life and death decisions should be in God's hands, not mine. But neither am I prepared to let a beloved creature suffer needlessly, if it comes to that.

Not a very definitive answer to your question, Carolyn!

[Donna J. Shepherd]

Your post had me in tears. I lost two dogs last year. Both were suffering - one with kidney failure, the other with Cushing's and diabetes. I took them to the vet at the same time, and it about killed me. I felt kinda silly mourning over dogs the way I did, but I couldn't help myself.

After reading your post, I don't know if I can bring myself to read Anna's essay! Bless you, and I'll pray for you in the coming weeks.

[Janet Kincaid]

Sublime. Both you and Anna Quindlen.

We had to put one of our dogs down last year and it was not a happy time. It never is. But somewhere in the big meadow in the sky, Barkley is romping around, chasing other dogs, yapping like a mad dog, fetching balls, and just having a damn fine time. It's remembering him like that and hoping that's how he is now that takes away some of the sting.

All the best to you, your family, and Halilah.

[Jana]

Thanks for that, Janet. Halilah died last month and we buried her at Phil's parents' farm in Kentucky. It's been hard, but I know she is at peace.

[JW]

Just like others this blog made me cry. With ICRS over I am catching up a bit with the blogs, so I am just now reading it. We have three dogs, the baby a bassett hound named Corporal Hezikiah Piper (Tyson loves long names), Piper for short. I came to love dogs late in life, but adore them I do. Just like reading Marley and Me, your blog made me tear up, but also made me ever so thankful for the dogs in my life. They are just the best at adoration and unconditional love. thanks for sharing Jana, and may Halilah rest in peace.

[Tatiana]

I'm so sorry about your loss of Halilah. I still mourn for my lost little ones, and I think they're a part of your family forever. Is the love of a dog less real or less deep or important than that of a human? I don't think it is.