Saturday, May 4, 2013

Saying Goodbye

It was four years ago last week that I had to put Maddie to sleep.  While all my pets have been special to me, Maddie's place in my heart holds a slightly bigger space. 

Maddie was a yellow Lab.  I've had five Labs: one chocolate, one black, and three yellow.  All but one were rescues.  Maddie and Suzie, her mom, came from a Lab rescue group in Kentucky.  My Mom and I drove the hour and a half drive to meet them, and of course, they came home with us.  We put their new collars and leashes on them, and they rode in the back of the car.  By the time we got home, Maddie had chewed a considerable chunk of her leash. 

The two girls quickly adapted to being in their new home.  Because they were so "ball" happy, I discovered that I could walk them without leashes, as long as I took a tennis ball with me.  They watched the hand with the ball the entire walk.  Every day, we'd walk through a small wooded area to a grassy hill, and I'd throw balls and they would fetch.  Sometimes, I would stand in my driveway and throw the balls up the drive and they would bring them back, drop them at my feet and anxiously await the next toss.  Maddie's signal to me that ball toss was over was when she'd put two balls in her mouth and sit down. 

Maddie was bigger than Suzie and healthier, because Suzie was only with us for a year and a half, before she had to be put to sleep.  Suzie had bad hips and had started falling against the wall while walking.  One day when I got home, she was out on the porch and had fallen and gotten wedged between the screens and a pallet leading to the doggy door.  She was lying in her own waste unable to get up.  I knew it was time to let her go, because I couldn't leave her at home not knowing what might happen the next time. 

After Suzie left us, I got Dolly as a companion to Maddie.  Maddie didn't take to Dolly right away, but they did become friends.  Poor Dolly was sick with cancer when I got her, but it wasn't until she woke me up one night with a horrible cough, that I found out she was ill.  We got up in the middle of the night and drove to the emergency vet clinic.  I sat in the back with Dolly while she coughed until blood came up.  Lots of blood.  The tests showed that Dolly had cancer. So we took her home, laden with various drugs to help until her quality of life was no longer good.  She lasted another month, playing ball, eating, sleeping with Maddie, and taking drugs hidden in her food.  One day, she wasn't interested in eating, so I made her a steak.  She wouldn't eat it, and she wasn't getting her medications.  I made an appointment at the vet's. Because I didn't want her to leave me, I actually asked him how long she could go without food.  He gently told me that starving would not be a good way for her to die.  So, I let Dolly go, too.  She had just started feeling comfortable in her new home, and now she was gone. 

I was hesitant to get another Lab from the place where I'd gotten Maddie, Suzie, and Dolly, so Maddie's new companion was a Golden Retriever mix named Shelby from a local shelter for Golden Retrievers.  Shelby was about two years old and not quite ready for prime time alone in the house, which I discovered when she'd chewed all the rungs on my dining room chairs. Live and learn.  Shelby and Maddie were good buddies right away.  They loved their Kongs and playing ball and taking walks and getting treats.

One of the things I remember and loved about Maddie was morning when the alarm went off.  Maddie would appear standing next to the head of the bed to remind me it was time to get up and feed her.  Because it was a narrow space between the bed and the wall, she would back up doing a kind of shimmy with her back hips.  It was her happy dance. Eating was one of her favorite things.  On Fridays, I would proclaim to the girls that it was Friday, the best day of the work week, because I'd be able to spend more time with them on the weekend.  Her shimmy told me she was excited about that, too.  

When Maddie was twelve her hips started getting worse.  Her gait had changed and she was moving slower. Her breathing was becoming more labored, too.  Still, she loved for me to throw a ball right to her, so she could still enjoy one of her favorite things. 

I got home from work one afternoon, and found Shelby standing next to Maddie, who was lying on the floor.  Her back legs were stretched out behind her, and she had been panting so hard that her tongue was blue.  She was lying in her own waste.  I got help and we got her up and took her to the vet's.  I knew I was going to be saying goodbye to her, because like Suzie's last day, I knew I couldn't leave Maddie home alone not knowing what might happen to her.  The vet told me that if she stayed with me, she would need to be on oxygen the rest of her life.  That was not an option, so I said goodbye to Maddie, like I had to Koa, Jessie, Suzie, Dolly, and Cleo, my cat.  I sat with her, petting her, crying, and telling her what a good girl she was, while the vet put her to sleep.  The sadness and pain of being with her as she breathed her last breath is still hard to bear if I think about it too long. If I have my way, I'll see her again along with all my beloved pets when we meet again on Rainbow Bridge.  I'll bet Maddie greets me with a shimmy and a tennis ball in her mouth. 

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