It is a glorious autumn day. Cool breezes are shaking a floaty, colorful rainfall of leaves onto the forest floor, the warm sun is shining, and the birds are calling. I just came up from the pond--where Bill had prepared Echo's final resting place, and I just finished burying her.
Echo went to sleep for the last time at 9:30 this morning, in the back of the red car where she was always so happy. She was lying on her "double-stack" dog bed, with her chin resting on her favorite toy, Hedgehog. There was no pain, and the vet and I sent her off with our mutual tears and gentle words, both of us stroking her soft, furry ears for the last time.
I know I will spend the next few days, weeks, maybe months, automatically looking for her in the house, thinking "I have to take the dog out," or "is it time to feed the dog?" These animal companions of ours become such an integral part of our daily lives. They worm their way into our hearts, and it is so hard to let go. But what I did this morning was a loving mercy, a refusal to let my friend suffer any longer.
As long as there was a chance she could be treated (or would quietly expire on her own), I kept the faith with her. But yesterday, the Leptospirosis test finally came back, and it was negative. The only good news in this is that Bill and I won't have to be on doxycycline for the next month ourselves, since it transmits easily to humans. So, after ruling out the lepto, we were left with the obvious signs of a massive and ultimately fatal abdominal tumor.
The vet said she was a fighter--any other dog would have been dead three weeks ago. Even if we had taken her to UT and spent thousands on further treatments, the vet said the outcome would have been the same. Bill and I concurred.
She stopped eating anything at all on Monday, and as she grew progressively thinner over this week, I could see how the tumor was taking over her body. I just couldn't bear to put her through any more drastic measures; Bill, still in Philadelphia, said not to wait.
So, I did what I could for my canine friend. My dog Echo protected me on the property from other dogs and human strangers and was a whiz at catching and eating any stinging insect that made its way into the house. Her insistence on exploring the woods every day got me outside and on the road to physical and mental recovery from my surgeries last year. She was a constant source of amusement and laughter with her doggie antics. She traveled all over the country with me, logged more than 30,000 miles, left her "mark" in hundreds of highway rest stops, and invariably took the best bed in every Motel 6 we stayed at.
While she was a fine "townie" when we lived in New York, she came into her own when we moved to Tennessee. At last she had acres to run in, critters to chase and watch (she especially liked making turkeys fly), and she mellowed into a total country dog here. She loved digging for chipmunks and squirrels. She even got over her fear of water, happily trotting through the creeks, especially if there were frogs and fish to stalk.
We noted, however, that she still loved sleeping on the couch when the sun went down.
She was a great companion, and a faithful friend. Rest in Peace, Echo. We loved you greatly, and you returned our full-hearted devotion with your own.
"The dog is the most faithful of animals and would be much esteemed were it not so common. Our Lord God has made His greatest gift the commonest. " -- Martin Luther
3 comments:
Well, I'm sitting here bawling like she was my own...I, too, have had the decision to make about my beloved Red Dog and cat, Pootie. It sure ain't an easy task, but one that shows the great love we have those animals who edged/sneaked their way into our homes and most of all our hearts and we don't want them to suffer any longer.
It's kinda sad that we often times we like/love them more than some human kind! They are truly more faithful, forgiving, true, loving and you don't have to send them to college!
When the time is right for you, we will talk and maybe even visit Echo's final resting place and sing a verse of "Shall We Gather At the River"...that's what I sang 'over' my blue Easter chick that died* when I was 4. It worked then and I know it will work now.
Love you.
Hannah
*Gary Rudder, my next door neighbor fed it a worm. I will always be convinced that's what did it!
Dear P,
I know that our Lady, Maggie, Bear & Charlie are welcoming Echo with open paws and they are all running around and chasing whatever there is to be chased and having a good ole time.
L, M
I've been 'off' the computer more than 'on' for ages, now, Pam, and hence just caught up on your blog. I am so sad for you and Bill over Echo. I had to let my Badger boy go in February, same way, and he's under the apple tree when he's not here chasing the other pups and Dewey. I made the decision to go ahead and get Bayley in June :) and then he needed a buddy, so I adopted Marlee (my first female) the end of August. Do they take the place of my Badger? Never, but oh they do chase away that 'empty house' sound. Sending healing comforting thoughts to you, my friend.
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