Last week, I heard someone say they had to say goodbye to their little one, an elderly little pup that lived many wonderful years in their family.  They were crushed.  My eyes filled with tears feeling their sorrow, or so I told myself.  But the truth is, I surprised myself realizing that under the surface, the old memories are still there of when I, too, had to make the very difficult decision to give my little fluffy baby the best gift ever in her senior years. And that’s when I decided I need to tell her story. 

THE BEGINNING

Her name was Marmalade, a fluffy little spunky ball of energy who burst into my home and my life and absolutely nothing was the same for the next twelve topsy-turvy years.

I wandered into a pet shop one cold winter day.  It was in December, just a few days before Christmas.  I was there to purchase bird seed.  I had a bird.  That’s another story for another time.

As I was taking care of my purchase, I heard a tiny whimper coming from one of the cages.  There, sitting on her hind legs and holding on to the cage bars was this teeny tiny sweetie pie looking me straight in the eye.  My heart melted.  I knew I couldn’t bring her home with me.  The building I lived in no longer accepted pets.  I told the woman behind the counter that I couldn’t have her but could I, at least, hold her for a few minutes.  I’m still not sure why the lady looked at me rather suspiciously but, tentatively, she handed the puppy to me and hovered closely.  Well, the puppy, soon to be named Marmalade, curled up in my coat and went to sleep.  Now what?  After about five minutes, I thanked the woman and reluctantly handed the puppy back to her.  Off I went with my bird seed and that was that.

Fast forward to the end of February.  I was out for a walk, another chilly icy day, when I realized I was walking past the pet shop.  I hesitated to go in.  I thought, surely, the little one must be gone.  Who wouldn’t have scooped her up by now.  Then, for some inexplicable reason, I crossed the street to the pet shop.  There, in the window, were several puppies with one, in particular, acting like a little ringleader.  She’d round them up in a huddle, back up, and then take a flying leap into the middle of the heap.  They’d scatter and she’d start all over again.  Could that be the same one?  I went in just as the same lady from my previous visit opened the window and told me to go ahead, pick her up.  I watched as others did the same and she was very playful, crawling all over them, a ball of energy.  Then I picked her up and oh my goodness.  She snuggled into my coat, just like before, closed her eyes and went to sleep.  It was her!

The store was busy that day.  So much so that I was getting plenty of encouragement from other pet lovers.  A woman approached me telling me that this puppy was mine.  “I’ve been watching and if you could see how content she is!”  Others said the same.  I explained that in five days I was going on a two-week vacation, so the time wasn’t right.  She said, “I’m an investor in this business so they have to listen to me.  I’ll talk to them,” and she disappeared.  

In the meantime, I kept cuddling this precious treasure still not sure I lived in a place that would allow me to have her.  The woman returned and said “Give them a small deposit.  I told them you must have this dog and she needs you, too.”

So, I returned with a deposit and for the next five days I visited her in the pet shop every single day, played with her, bought toys of her choosing for her homecoming, and took lots of pictures.  Oh, by the way… Yes! I was allowed to bring her home with me!  I was in heaven.

Two weeks later, I returned from my vacation and made a beeline to the pet shop.  I had everything ready.  Toys in the middle of the living room floor, water in her bowl, food, and a comfy doggie bed.  I couldn’t believe she was mine.  I just wanted to hold her, forever, but she was more focused on getting to her toys and off she went on her first zoomies.  And then, a quick pit stop under the bird’s cage.  Yup, home was now christened.  This was now Marmalade’s world and I just lived in it.

We bonded immediately.  Actually, I think we bonded way back in December when first we met.  Our first weekend together was Easter Sunday, so we went for a stroll down Michigan Avenue.  I was so proud of her.  She was curious about everything.  She’d stop and watch the street musicians, see herself in store windows, and chase the birds.  She was 4-1/2 months old and, for never being exposed to the public, nothing frightened her – until she thought she lost me in the crowd.  Oh, my.  She panicked and her screeching could be heard for blocks.  So, we continued our walk with her clinging to my chest.  She knew she was safe with me and I loved every minute of it.  This was the beginning of our long journey together, when she knew I would “fix it” whatever it was.  The trust she had in me was endless and that continued until.

OUR JOURNEY

Our first year together had its challenges.  She was a little bitty thing, all of 3-1/2 pounds.  The goal is always to make sure a puppy is well-nourished and thriving.  About a week after bringing her home she would become terribly sick every time she ate.  We spent countless hours in the veterinarian’s office testing, evaluating, replenishing her fluids, and finally determined that she had a slew of food allergies, most specifically to animal protein.  So began a year-long elimination diet.  Each and every time I introduced a small amount of animal protein to her food we ended up at the veterinarian’s office.  She would get so, so sick.  It was heartbreaking.

Finally, I decided, no more testing her limits and I changed her diet to complete vegetarian. She gobbled up her tofu and inhaled potatoes among other veggies and vitamins.  What she wouldn’t do for one of her pretzel snacks!  My little veggie pup thrived, gained weight to a healthy eight pounds, and ran the pants off me.  She was perfect.

Marmalade was now my little girl and I was her mommy.  We sailed through the next several years, a healthy, active, funny and, most of all, happy little one.  She’d fly off the back of the sofa as if she had wings, learned to play ball on her own by bouncing it off the coffee table, and always shared her favorite toys with me, her mini menagerie.  I nursed her through her tribulations and she kissed away my fever.  We took care of each other in more ways than one.

Somewhere close to eleven years things began to change.  She had a seizure and then another, and she lost her voice.  I took her to animal emergency where she spent the night, the first time we’d been apart.  They determined that her calcium levels had plummeted, causing her to have seizures and lose her voice.  After a night of intravenous calcium drip, I picked her up the next morning and went straight to our veterinarian.  Something was amiss.  A few months earlier all her test levels were perfect as they had been for years. Suddenly, the world changed for her and for me.  But why?  Our vet took her to 24-hour emergency care that evening where she stayed for the next two weeks.  That first day they called me to come, asap.  We were so attached to each other she wouldn’t even do her business for them!  I left work, stopped at the grocery store for her food items, and took a taxi to the suburbs.  As soon as I arrived, they brought her to me and, glory be!  She promptly did her duty.  For me.  Like she always did.  And then she wanted a pretzel.  She was a good girl, after all!

Every night, I left work, took the train to the burbs, we “did her business”, I fed her, and then we napped together until the last train out, back to the city.  For two weeks, I counted the days until I could bring her home.  The day finally arrived, however, it seemed that she now had an allergy to tofu, to soy, high in calcium but no longer digestible for Marmalade.  This new protein allergy was a new challenge but, as always, I told her “Mommy will fix it”. 

Whole Foods had a wide array of plant protein alternatives and thus started our new journey de cuisine.  It worked.  For the next year everything was back to normal.  My little girl found her voice and I encouraged her to use it vociferously.  Let the neighbors, complain!  There was a lot of pep in her step and she ran me ragged.  I loved it because deep down I knew the days were becoming fewer.

OUR GOODBYE

Over a period of one week, everything changed faster than I could have imagined.  She slept most of the time, ate and drank little.  I had to face reality.  Our time together was coming to an end.

It was the morning of December 22^nd, three days before Christmas, when we woke up and I knew.  She sat in front of the window with eyes closed and head tilted to the heavens.  I’d move her and she’d return to the window and the sky above.  All I could think was she’s being called home and I need to help her find her way.

Oh, my heart was heavy.  I called the animal hospital and said “Tell him I think she’s failing.  We’re on our way.”  I wrapped her in my old satin baby blanket, called for a taxi, and left for the suburbs.  A short but very long ride.  I knew it would be our last.  How do you say goodbye?

She was already in a deep sleep at this point.  Surrounded by staff and doctor who had been with us every step of the way for all those twelve years, I held her sweet face in my hands and said, “I’m sorry.  Mommy can’t fix this time.”  And then she slipped away.  

The tears were uncontrollable.  Instead of calling for a taxi to take me home, I left the animal hospital and just walked. Where?  I didn’t know but I walked.  It was raining and I thought no one will know I’m crying.  They’ll just think it’s the rain.

That night and, for a few nights after, I slept with her “blankie”.  For a short while, it kept her close.  That first morning, I had to go through the motions.  I always filled her water bowl with clean fresh water, first thing every morning, as I did that morning without her, and then stood in the kitchen and sobbed.  Our remarkable journey was over.

Grief is a funny thing.  It’s never the same but without a love-filled heart, you wouldn’t have the pain of loss. It’s over twenty years later and I remain filled with so much gratitude for all the years God entrusted me with something so precious.  I remember her doctor saying, “I know you must think you’re doing something wrong, but don’t you think God places these little guys in your hands because he knows you’ll take care of them?”   I’ll admit, even as I wrote this, I had a tear or two trickle down my face.  But the loss is filled with such special memories and those cannot be replaced.

There was a young music student who used to come to my office before classes and, one day, she showed me a picture of her dog that had passed away.  She asked me if I thought it was okay for her to still have his picture in her pocket.  I asked her if it made her smile.  She said, yes, and I said, “then you should”.  And I told her that I, too, still had a picture of my little one because it makes me smile.

I haven’t had another puppy since.  Never say never but, for now, life is full.  Would I do it all over again?  You bet!  Every last bit of it.  But that is not the present nor the future.  Those are the best, most wonderful memories and I think that’s where they will stay.

Just my memories to keep…

Feature photo:  Marmalade, 8 months old, before her first haircut.  She loved the camera!