Just because I knew it was coming isn’t making this any easier. On a day when I should be at work, good naturedly complaining about being there instead of on vacation as I was the day prior, I am at home with Buddy, waiting for the vet to arrive. I arrived home late yesterday to find that Buddy had finally lost the use of his back legs. It’s been a long time coming, the decline slow and hard to watch, as Buddy struggled against this life of inactivity after years of joyfully taking his daily walk.
I finally reached my vet by phone last night and he confirmed what I already knew – Buddy’s body had finally betrayed him. Although my vet was not available to come over today, he referred me to www.heavenfromhome.com. I called this morning and as soon as Vanessa spoke in a kind voice, I lost it. I had to hand the phone to Greg so he could make the arrangements. So, here I sit, waiting for 3pm and the arrival of the vet. Somehow, it feels as though the clock is simultaneously moving too fast and too slow.
Buddy is on his bed, which I have positioned so he can see me in the kitchen, dining room, living room, and hallway. As a dog who is used to following me everywhere I go in the house, it is causing him great anxiety when I disappear from view. His unsuccessful attempts to pull himself up to follow me cause me to cry again. Now, when I have to leave Buddy’s sight, Greg stays with him and tells him over and over that I’ll be right back.
I brushed him so he’s looking extra handsome right now. I’m not sure why it was important to me that I brush him one last time. He has been shedding like crazy since yesterday. I think it’s due to the stress that comes with pain and not understanding why his legs won’t work. Anyway, his coat looked awful so I brushed all that loose hair away. It’s funny how his fur is so soft now, having changed from the coarse coat he’s had since he was two, back to his puppy coat about three months ago.
Buddy has never really liked the beauty process. He hates baths, hates having his toe nails clipped, and really hates having his teeth brushed. He has, however, grown to like being brushed. My tears wet his coat. I see his concern for me in his eyes and I feel badly that he is worrying about me at a time like this. Ugh. I hate this.
I am trying to focus on the positive. Buddy is a rescue dog and a few weeks after I brought him home almost 14 years ago, he was diagnosed with distemper, a usually fatal disease. He was about a year old and that disease did its best to kill him, but he fought like the stoic warrior he is, impressing my vet, as well as the specialists at UC Davis. I was home from work, recovering from shoulder surgery, and we spent every minute together for over a month. Nine dogs from the rescue had distemper and eight dogs died. Buddy survived and we shared a tremendously strong bond from that point on.
He was healthy for the remainder of his life. I had a scare a couple of years ago, when Marci called me at work to tell me Buddy was almost unresponsive in the garage. I zoomed home and raced Buddy to the vets, convinced that he was dying. Numerous tests and $800 later, I was told my dog had “gas”. Apparently, he ate some bark from the back yard and it was fermenting in his belly, causing great pain. Really?!? That was so Buddy.
I am so lucky Buddy found me. I’ve raised wonderful German Shepherds in the past, but Buddy is something special. He is so German Shepherd (loyal, dignified, intelligent, stoic) but so goofy, too. He makes me laugh every day. He is full of joy and it’s impossible to be sad, angry, or stressed around him. I can’t count the number of times I came home from work stressed out only to forget all about what was bothering me when I watched Buddy run around the grass at the school yard down the street. Such pure joy. We went on over 4,000 walks; yet, every time he acted like it was the best thing on earth. He has been a constant reminder to live in the moment and enjoy the small things.
Buddy loves me like no one else. He is fiercely loyal towards, and protective of, me. But, his family doesn’t stop with me. He loves Greg and every once in awhile, goes to Greg first when we walk in the door together. (I think it was the chicken Greg fed Buddy that really won him over.) Greg is so sad today but he’s been my rock.
Buddy loves his second family next door and I will owe the Zimmerman family forever for the love and care they have given him over the years. It was hard not to sob uncontrollably as Miguel said goodbye to Buddy last night. At only 17, Miguel has grown up with Buddy. I wish none of us have to feel this pain.
I know this sadness will subside with time but I also know the hole in my heart will never heal. I am dreading the days that will follow today, when any reminder of Buddy will make me cry. Still, it is only because I’ve had a deep love for Buddy that this loss can cause such deep pain. It’s been worth it. We’ve had a wonderful life together. Thank you, Buddy…..I will never forget you.
With Love from your mom.
Sept 13, 2011.
I walked the dog this morning, something that I get to do every once in a while. He normally walks with his Mom but today he got me as the “you’re not HER but you’ll do all right” substitute. Yes, he’s a DOG but he can make it rain guilt and shame with a look. The dog is over 108 years old in human years, can barely put any weight on his front legs, his back legs sway like a drunk wandering down Main Street, and his breathing is so labored from the exhausting task of waking up that you’d think he’d snuck out, run five miles, and returned home just before your alarm clock went off. Yet, none of this keeps him from his duty of following you around in the morning until you relent and break out the leash. Just the sight of it sends him into a child-like frenzy of skipping and hopping on 108-year-old legs that don’t understand why the brain is acting like a seven-year-old.