Goodbye to a good dog

May 1 was a rough day. Well, the rough day technically started on April 29 (which happens to be mom's birthday). Maddie - my Australian Cattle Dog and best friend for 13 years - stopped eating. She'd sort of lost her appetite several days before, but now she even refused treats, peanut butter, and yogurt. I knew it was not going to end well. I made an appointment for Monday afternoon and hoped she'd snap out of it over the weekend.  My hopes were crushed on Sunday night when her back legs gave out and she refused to even try to get up. I once had a friend who joked that if Maddie were a soldier, she'd be the psycho pup continuing on the front lines with shrapnel in her nose. That was the Maddie I knew and loved; not this poor, limp angel lying in my arms. She would have never admitted defeat willingly.

I guess the purpose behind my journaling this is not to relive the pain, but to have a place to remember how raw and wounded I was when I lost my love. Loving a pet is easy. Loving a pet enough to say goodbye... well, let's just say Webster hasn't quite come up with a good word to describe the way I felt. Feel. Whatever.

By the time Monday rolled around, I had given up on her. An amazing friend of ours took Daniel for the afternoon so that I could get her to the vet with as little distraction and interruption as possible. I am forever in her debt for her kindness in my hour of need. I will also never forget how much I leaned on my sweet Lia through that afternoon. I wore her in the Ergo as I talked to Maddie, stroked her fur, and cried tears of guilt, of loss, and of anguish. I had no real reason to feel guilty - I think it's just one of those stages of grief you go through. Somebody agree with me. Please. Having Lia near me - physically and emotionally - helped me get through the afternoon. Dr. Parker ran some tests and determined she had a terrible infection. 105 fever and some ridiculous blood counts.

The estimate was $508. I couldn't make that call on my own, so I did what any distressed wife would do - I called my husband in tears. Lia petted me, I cried, and I tried to get through the blood work results and the costs associated with the overnight IV of fluids and antibiotics without totally losing it. I don't know what I expected Doug to say, but his words made me love him deeper and stronger than I ever have before. "She's a good dog. And a tough dog. And she deserves to fight." Tears are streaming down my face as I type this, two weeks after the fact. There's a quote I run across pretty often - "We never touch people so lightly that we do not leave a trace.' In this situation, these words touched me so strongly that I don't think I'll ever forget them or the way they made me feel.

I went home that night not knowing what to expect. I knew in my head that she wasn't going to make it, but my heart wasn't willing to give up yet. After talking to Dr. Parker the next morning, I had even more hope. She suggested that I stop by with the kids to visit. Maddie had stood on her own and her fever had broken during the night. When we arrived that afternoon, Maddie had back slid. When I asked Dr. Parker what to do the day before, she gently told me that she didn't have a crystal ball and didn't know what she would do in my shoes. This time, she couldn't look me in the eye and told me that there was no reason for her to suffer any longer. God knows - and only God knows - how I managed to get out of that office without breaking down into a total blubbering mess. Signing a euthanasia consent form with a baby on my hip and my 3-year-old at my side was one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. We said goodbye once more, Daniel not really understanding but somehow sensing that this was *really* goodbye. He leaned in over Maddie and said to her, "I'm sorry, Maddie. I'm sorry this happened to you." I have never been more proud of him.

That night, I sat on the couch with Doug and cried. I cried for how much I missed her. I cried for how much I loved her. I cried for so many things. For the ache in my heart, for the happiness she brought me, for the good times we had. Doug and I recalled our favorite memories. His were of the time she defended him from his brother and drew blood and the time she leaped over the front seat of the truck to land on the dashboard... she hated windshield wipers. Mine were of the time my roommates painted her green, the way she used to sit on her kennel and howl when I pulled out of the driveway, the time she licked my tears from my face when my teenage world was falling apart. I laughed about the time she penned the neighbor's horse. The way she thought she could swim but really sunk like a brick. The way she used to pick grapes off the vine as we drove to the lake.

The hardest part of losing my baby was having to be strong for my kids. It never occurred to me that somebody would mourn her more fiercely than I would. It never occurred to me that our 13 years together could be trumped by Daniel's entire little life with her. He's never known a day without Maddie. Telling him that Maddie was gone was every bit as hard as telling her goodbye. He asked me if we could pray to God for Him to bring Maddie home safely. All I could muster was, "He did, baby." The last two weeks have been hard. I miss the way she used to lie by Lia's door as I put her to bed. I miss her smell. I miss the way her coat felt under my hands. I miss my dog.

But ultimately, I am thankful. I am thankful for the way that she loved me and my family. I am thankful for the happiness she brought us over the last 13 years. I am thankful that Doug agreed to give her a chance to fight. I am thankful for that freezing Valentine's Day in Seguin when I plucked her from the back of a pickup truck in the Walmart parking lot. A friend of mine was too right when she said that Maddie was the best thing to ever come from Walmart.

Goodbye, Maddie. I love you with all my heart. Thank you for teaching me how to care for another. Most of all, thank you for loving me unconditionally. May you rest peacefully knowing you did your job well. Well done, good and faithful friend.