In My Arms

     As I alluded to in the forward to this book, heartache can be an eventuality in this profession.

     This past weekend, my heart was broken, quite unexpectedly in fact.  Nothing prepares me for the shock of old age and in companions, that finality comes before we’re ready.  I mean, we know someday, but still, we’re robbed of promised future days with them at our side and at our beckoning.

     I parked in the drive and pressed the garage door opener.  It’s a short driveway and the barks on the inside were meant for anyone who dared approach.  You see, they know the sound of the family cars.  I wasn’t driving a family car and knew that I would have to squeeze in and undergo the inspection.  It happened every time I stopped in.

     This client’s dogs were long-legged and very short legged…an eclectic grouping of Greyhounds, Chihuahua and Fox Terrier. As I have an equally odd mixture of companions, I completely understood. I believe that personality is the trait which clinches the deal when choosing a family pet. Anyway, that’s my life’s experience.

     Moments after being released from the corner in the hall, we headed to the back yard for outside time.  And then, I saw Keeper, sprawled on the floor in a pool of urine. I ran to scoop her up and carried her, pee dripping from my sleeve and set her upright in the yard.  She walked a few steps, slipped, fell and then I scooped her up again and sat her in the grass. She rocked herself to a standing position and headed to a favorite spot to investigate.

     Not trying to panic, but needing to dial the phone, I called the owner. “Keeper had a bad night”, I said.  “I found her soaked on the floor right next to her bed. Where’s your doggie shampoo? Do you have bath towels?” I hung up and with her in my arms with the three in tow, headed to the bathroom for shampoo and then to garage to get towels.

She had a lovely warm bath and was not too anxious to get out of the tub.  Didn’t take her long to dry off and I put her down and she walked to her bed in the master bedroom.  She settled in a bit and I went in the main room to turn on the t v.  Not long after, she came into the main room to join us and traded her bedroom spot for the small bed next to the fireplace.

     She sat mostly as if she couldn’t decide on what to do next. Having breathed a sigh of relief, I plopped into the easy chair for a breather.  Almost at that exact moment, she started to seize. I ran to her and fell to the floor and located my phone to place another distress call.  “No, she has not had any grand mal seizures” was the reply. “Well, she’s having one now and please stay on the phone while I try to calm her”. The seizure lasted 3 minutes. It was awful. It was messy.  They were two hours from home. 

     I know seizures. They weaken and usually contribute to shortened lifespans.

I knew this one was probably not the first.  I knew that she probably had one after I left the previous night.

     I rousted everyone out hourly in hopes that she would snap out of it.  She was mentally there but the sadness in her eyes told a different story. I left the comfort of the easy chair and laid on the floor next to her and pet and sang all the lullabies I could remember.

     Tick, tock…minutes passed and they weren’t coming.  They were close, but not close enough to rescue us from this awfulness.

     Keeper and I were outside and the remaining three were in when the garage door opened and voices were busy greeting barks.  I walked inside with her in my arms and kissed Mrs. and handed Keeper to her.  She said “She’s Dave’s dog” and passed her to him.  The grandparents were busy in a group hug and I said, “I need to go and I’m sorry”.

     I got in my car and sat and cried.  I got home and cried.  I went to bed and hoped that she would pass away.

     She didn’t. I got a text message the following morning which read “She had seizures all night we took into the vet and had her put to sleep. We couldn’t let her suffer.  We miss her.”

     Later that day, I received another message: “Thank you from the bottom of my heart for staying with her”.  I replied “You’re entirely welcome” Thank you for loving her through this. I love you.”

     If it’s not time for me to retire, I’ll be surprised at my decision to continue. I will have to say goodbye again and I know that next time, I will want to hold them in my arms.