By Monday, an era of my life will literally be over. That’s how long the dog in the photo, Lucy, has been a part of my life.
From the moment I found her, as an abandoned puppy in the woods, nearly 17 years ago, life has never been the same. This is the dog who would accept or reject my boyfriends. The dog who kept me company in my single years, who waited until I came home from my honeymoon, and then while I stayed overnight in the hospital having three children. She has lived with me in seven houses, and though the companions in her original pack died off years ago, she is still here.
Sort of.
As she circles my table while I write this, she can no longer see or hear. She may have an accident at any moment. And, she often becomes panicked and anxious in the middle of the night as she leaves the bed to wander the house. I might have to arise two or three times a night and try to help her remember who I am, and where she is, so she’ll come back to bed.
She’ll start to pick fights with my other dogs, as if she’s back in the days when she was the Alpha. But she’s been Omega for years, and just doesn’t remember it.
Still, since she wasn’t in any obvious physical discomfort, I figured it “wasn’t time.”
But tonight, at dinner, it became obvious that it’s time, when, in her blindness and confusion, she literally mistook my one-year-old’s finger for food falling from the table. She wouldn’t let go, and she couldn’t hear me to tell her to open her jaw. I stuck my own hand between her teeth, hoping that if she chomped down to try to keep hold of the morsel, she’d get my finger.
In the end, his tiny finger is bruised and swollen, but it could have been so much worse.
I knew this day would come, and at almost 17 years, I know Lucy and I have been on borrowed time for awhile. But it doesn’t make saying goodbye to my shadow any easier. This dog and I were a team, and in her I have found the definition of a successful adoption story. It’s a story anyone can have, if they’re willing to make the commitment to the animal they adopt to see their lives through with love, care and a tenacious spirit that means you’ll never give up. Even when you have to move, and your search for a new rental is grueling because you have a pet--and the deposit a king’s ransom. Even when it means going without for your people needs because you have to pay for something your animal needs.
But now, I see, I’ve been keeping her around for me. She is living in a world of darkness, silence and confusion.
As much as it pains me, I have to give the friend who walked with me through my young adulthood my permission to go. I can’t keep her here any longer, lost and restless, because I’m afraid of how lost I am going to feel once she’s gone.
I’ve heard many people say, while grieving for a lost pet, “I’d never put myself through that again!” Yet we’re just the kind of people that should, over and over again. Because with us, the promises made at adoption are fulfilled. Because our animals will live lives never wanting for food, companionship, dignity or love. It’s a life not even many people can aspire to.
It’s a life truly well-lived.
