Best Day, Worst Day

Last night I went to bed without knowing how the most important election of my lifetime would end. I had my hopes that the people of this country would do the right thing and elect Donald Trump but like most here I had my hopes crushed more often than I care to remember.

This morning I woke to Willie, my dog, my best friend, my companion, in distress. He was gagging and unable to stand. As he lay on the floor he lost control of his bowels and bladder and I knew that this was maybe the end. I quickly dressed and wrapped him in a towel, jumped in the car and headed to the Vet's office.

The radio in the car was on and I vaguely heard that my greatest hope had been realized. Trump would be the next President of this great county and maybe, just maybe, we had a chance to correct course. What a great feeling!

The feeling was short lived as I looked at Willie, laying on his bed riding shotgun next to me. Only his head was sticking out of the blanket and I reached over to offer a comforting rub.

Willie had been with me for over 15 years. He was a Dachshund (more hound for the pound) and came from a rescue society. His early life must have been rather rough since he was just skin and bones, missing a lot of fur, and forlorn as a lost soul. But you could see in his eyes that he was a good dog, he only needed someone to love him and bring that quality out.

It wasn't long before that good dog emerged. He started putting on weight (maybe a little too much), his fur filled in, and he started to show a playful side. He would run endlessly around the house until I picked him up and put him on the couch next to me. We were a pair of couch potatoes.

We had many adventures together. He accompanied me on camping trips, track days, and his personal favorite, road trips. Just picking up my keys sent him heading for the door in anticipation of a long ride. He always rode shotgun curled up on his bed and I would rub his head and tell him he was the 'worst dog ever, except for all the others'. There were a couple of times that I had to stop short and he would slide onto the floor, look up at me as if to say 'WTH was that', and hop back onto the seat. We visited twelve states together. Eating fast food was his favorite part and he always knew it was coming when I pulled into the drive-thru lane.

The last few years were tough on him. He lost his hearing and the jingle of keys would not elicit the familiar expectation of the ride. I continued to talk to him just like always even though I knew I was just talking to myself. He lost his vision but would do pretty well getting around the house. He knew where his food and water bowls were, how to find the couch, and he always knew exactly where I was. He did get lost behind the dryer on occasion, but that was more humorous that dangerous. It seems that Dachshunds do not backup very well, those short legs I guess.

So, today we took our last ride together. I rubbed his head but I didn't say anything. I couldn't. The Vet did some tests, and informed me that he had probably had a stroke. She said that I could take him home and he may, or may not, get better. As I was holding Willie he began to have seizures. The Vet looked at me and said that maybe God was telling us what was best, and I knew it was time.

I nodded my head, and she took Willie back to insert a catheter and give him a mild sedative for the pain. When she came back he was aware that I was there. His head picked up and I thought he could once again see me, but I know that he could smell his man. I held him tight and let the Vet know that I was ready, it was time. I rubbed his nose so that the last thing he smelled was me, told him how much I loved him, and I cried like a baby. I held him close until he was gone.

I am sitting her writing this, still crying like a little boy, and I still feel that I can hear and feel him with me. His bed is empty, his collar is on my desk, and my heart is drained.

I have been here many times before, and it is always the same. An emptiness that I know will pass, and the memories that I know will always be here.

God's rest to you good friend. Be at peace and know that my love for you will never end.

What a beautiful send-off for your dear Willie. You might want to consider printing out your post and even the replies and putting it in a box called “Memories of Willie” along with his collar, some pics and favorite toys.

Thank you for rescuing Willie. I’m sure he knew that he landed in a pot of jam when he got adopted by you. It sounds like y’all had some fun adventures together, and you’re fortunate that you had him for 15 years — especially considering his precarious beginning.

Your account of his passing was almost word for word what was happening in my life less than 24 hours earlier. The diagnosis was different (hemorrhagic gastroenteritis), but the rest was the same. She (Jazz) was pronounced at 4:56 p.m. November 8, 2016. She was only 12½ years old. Because she was a toy, I expected at least 15 years with her.

Like you, I’ve been here many times before. It never gets easier, but it’s awfully nice to know that there are those who understand the depth of the relationship between a dog and its owner. I have literally wailed all week long, so when I opened your thread, I again had to reach for the Kleenex. When you said “my heart is drained,” fresh tears poured from my eyes. It’s the perfect description of my emotions this week.

I am a woman of faith and am of the strong belief that my Jazz now frolics on streets of gold in the presence of Jesus and that I and her sister (who is still with me) will join her in our heavenly forever and ever home. I read where you said you were doubtful of your faith and that you were concerned about things in your past. FRiend, if we didn’t have black marks in our past, we wouldn’t have needed a Savior. It’s why He came. To wipe the slate clean. Seek Him. Not only will He get you through this trial with an extra measure of grace, He’ll write your name in His book and prepare a place for you where you can reunite with Willie and all your other dogs.

Someone recommended that you go ahead and get another dog soon. I concur. It doesn’t take the pain of loss away, of course, but it redirects that need to love and share life’s experiences with another critter in need of companionship. I’m probably not telling you anything you don’t already know. I write it just as a word of encouragement.

God bless you as you experience this loss. And thanks again for giving Willie such a wonderful home!

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