I have a quote on the wall in my office...."Our perfect companions never have fewer than four feet." -Colette, 1873-1954. (Guess we have to make an exception for Ricardo, the 3-legged cat, right?) My sister, Kristine, sent me the card with that thought on it. Thanks, K.
I'm writing this afternoon through tears, so forgive a typo or two. We had to say good bye to a true "perfect companion," Star, a lovely, dignified older greyhound with the best humans a pet could ever ask for. I have had the privilege of working with this great family for a while now, so this final visit when we all said good bye to our friend was especially hard, as any one who loves their pets like family members must imagine.
Star didn't have the dreaded cancer or kidney or liver failure or any other awful disease. She really was just old, and her poor weakened body couldn't keep up with her still alert mind. She wanted to go on those beloved walks with her humans, but those once graceful greyhound legs couldn't support her weight anymore, and she tired out after only a few steps. She had been stumbling and dragging her toes for quite some time now, and with the help of that multi-modal analgesia we talked about recently, she managed pain and weakness fairly well--up until this weekend, that is. Her owners knew it was time to let her give up the fight, and fight she did for quite a long time.
She did everything we asked, even when some of the medications we tried didn't quite suit her, she took the side-effects like a trooper, and recovered well when we quit those and tried something else. Her caring humans knew it wasn't fair to go to heroic measures for her; Star was tired. She passed peacefully this morning in the arms of her beloved humans. We can all wish to go that way. Good bye, Star. We will miss you.
My friend, Stacy, who is a veterinarian, too, sent me a little missive about living with dogs. I don't know who wrote it. Thought I'd share that with you now. What the heck, I'm already crying....
THE JOURNEY
When you bring a dog into your life, you begin a journey - a journey that will bring you more love and devotion than you have ever known, yet also test your strength and courage.
If you allow, the journey will teach you many things, about life, about yourself, and most of all, about love. You will come away changed forever, for one soul cannot touch another without leaving its mark.
Along the way, you will learn much about savoring life's simple pleasures - jumping in leaves, snoozing in the sun, the joy of puddles, and even the satisfaction of a good scratch behind the ears.
If you spend much time outside, you will be taught how to truly experience every element, for no rock, leaf or log will go unexamined, and no rustling bush will be overlooked. Your pace may be slower - except when heading home to the food dish - but you will become a better naturalist, having been taught by an expert in the field.
Too many times we hike on automatic pilot, our goal being to complete the trail rather than enjoy the journey. We miss the details - the colorful mushrooms on the rotting log, the honeycomb in the old maple snag, the hawk feather caught on a twig. Once we walk as a dog does, we discover a whole new world. We stop; we browse the landscape; we kick over leaves, peek in tree holes, look up, down, all around. And we learn what any dog knows: that nature has created a marvelously complex world that is full of surprises, that each cycle of the seasons brings ever-changing wonders, each day an essence all its own.
Even from indoors you will find yourself more attuned to the world around you. You will stop to observe the swirling dance of windblown leaves, or sniff the air after a rain. It does not matter that there is no objective in this; the point is in the doing, in not letting life's most important details slip by.
You will find yourself doing silly things that your pet-less friends might not understand: spending thirty minutes in the grocery aisle looking for the perfect doggie birthday treats, or driving around the block an extra time because your dog enjoys the ride. You will roll in the snow, wrestle with chewie toys, and bounce rubber balls till your eyes cross - all in the name of love.
Your house will become muddier and hairier. You will buy more lint rollers. You may find dog biscuits in your pocket or purse and find the need to explain. You will learn the true measure of love - the steadfast, undying kind that says, 'It doesn't matter where we are or what we do, or how life treats us as long as we are together.' Respect this always. It is the most precious gift any living soul can give another. You will not find it often among the human race.
And you will learn humility. If you pay attention and learn well, when the journey is done, you will not be just a better person, but the person your pet always knew you to be - the one they were proud to call beloved friend.
I must caution you that this journey is not without pain. Like all paths of true love, the pain is part of loving. For as surely as the sun sets, one day your dear companion will follow a path you cannot yet go down. And you will have to find the strength and love to let them go. A pet's time on earth is far too short - especially for those that love them. We borrow them, really, just for awhile, and during those brief years they are generous enough to give us all of their love - every inch of their spirit and heart, until one day there is nothing left.
The dog that only yesterday was a pup is all too soon old and frail. The youth with boundless energy wakes up stiff and lame, the muzzle now gray. Deep down we somehow always knew this journey would end. We knew that if we gave our hearts they would be broken. But give them we must for it is all they ask in return. When the time comes, and the road curves ahead to a place we cannot see, we give one final gift and let them run on ahead - young and whole once more.
'Godspeed, good friend,' we say, until our journey comes full circle and our paths cross.
Peace,
DrReneigh
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