-Washington Irving
I have had the sacred streaming down my face for the last few days. I have been experiencing overwhelming grief.
My old dog, my shadow, my most faithful companion, my protector, and my very best friend had her physical life ended yesterday. As I have written before, I have grieved for her several times in the past when her ongoing illness seemed like it would be the end but she rallied around again and again, giving me more precious time with her and her more precious time with me.
We shared a bond I can't even explain. She came into my life when I needed something the most, shortly after my divorce when I was struggling with the loneliness of a shared custody agreement. I came into her life when her frequent returns to the shelter after several different trial owners reported they "couldn't handle her" was about to end her life much too early. I was her last chance.
In my own stressed out state, I didn't think I could handle her either and was tempted on more than one occasion to take her back. She was "wild"...so much energy I couldn't contain. She was destructive...in her high anxiety states she would tear up anything in my house including couches, window screens, precious books, and clothing. She jumped on everyone that came to the door knocking them down with her excitement to see them. She loved to run so much...if I opened the door she would run...just run for miles in whatever direction was calling her and it would take me hours to round her up and return her safely home. Though she was a very loving and friendly dog...if I or anyone touched her paws she could become quite defensive to the point of snapping. And she did not like the cats I had brought home from the shelter months before her.
I knew hours after bring her home that training her and respecting her boundaries was going to be a challenge. I didn't think I had the energy to do it while struggling with my own life adjustments.
But there was something deep within her beautiful brown eyes that told me to try. So I did.
I read everything I could on training dogs and I strapped her to my waist and spent the two months of my summer vacation training her. I spent most of that time crying in frustration but I, and the kids, also fell madly in love with her. She, I knew formed a great attachment to us, to me especially, and she took on a very protective role over all of us, even the cats. Within a year there was little need for leashes around my waist or around her neck. She followed me and staid beside me because she wanted to. She became my shadow and my family's protector. She became my very best and most loyal friend.
She was thirteen and that is a long span for a German Sheppard. Her body has been deteriorating over the last few years with severe arthritis, old dog's syndrome, renal failure and dementia. I never quite felt I had the right to take the life of another sentient being...especially if there was a certain quality to that life...but promised myself that if the suffering reached a certain point and if she gave me any signs what so ever that she was "ready" I would have the vet help me let her go.
This last week or so she stopped eating as much as she used to...she always had a ferocious appetite and loved her food. She was no longer able to go for walks, started sun downing at night, (waking up and wandering all over the house confused), and getting up into a standing position became extra challenging for her...And though she was still wagging her tail when anyone came to the door and got excited over treats and drives in the car...something told me it was time.
Well my knowing was riddled with doubt as well. It left me pondering: Do I have the right to do this? Is this what she wants? Is her suffering serving some purpose for her that I cannot understand? Though I was agonizing over this dilemma, I found myself going to the phone and I made the call anyway. I did not stop crying since.
I would like to say it was a peaceful passing but it wasn't. My children, D. and I took her for a "drive" in the SUV...with her blanket and bed. We were going to have it done in the back of the vehicle while we all held her. Even though we were outside, she knew we were at the vet's. (She always got stressed out when she went for appointments...I think it reminded her of her time at teh shelter.) They gave her the sedative but her anxiety prevented her from relaxing as much as she could. And then they had to handle her paws for the other injections...something we, her beloved family members could never even handle all the years we knew her, and she fought.... She even snapped at me because I was closest to her head. They then had to strap her to a stretcher, bring her in without us, until they got a catheter in her vein and then they brought her back out. She was tired by then...so she went fairly peacefully while we said our goodbyes.
I don't want to regret this but I just wish those last few moments, prior to the final injections, were not filled with fear and confusion. But they were and I can't change that. I hope she forgives me and does not think that I betrayed her in anyway.
But dogs don't have egos, do they? They forgive so easily. She is peaceful now, free from the painful body she was in...and I know she forgives me for this decision, be it the best one I could have made for her or not. That is just the kind of dog she was.
She forgives me like she always did and somewhere in some formless realm she is wagging her formless tail excitedly at the sound of my voice calling her name.
And I, still in this form that expressed the life she knew as me, will always feel this invisible connection we shared. And for another little while, at least, the sacred tears of unspeakable love will stream down my face. And that is okay.
It is all good. It really is.
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