Re-reading the last post about Lady, I wouldn't have guessed she'd live three more years. Lady passed away yesterday, Sat. Oct 25th, around 1:40 pm via lethal injection. My parents and Sera were there. I want to remember everything, and never forget her sweet face and personality, so here's the events leading up to her death.
For the past year or so Lady had been losing strength in her back legs. She could walk okay for the most part but sometimes she'd collapse, only to get up again five minutes later. The last time I gave her a bath, she collapsed in the downstairs shower, and it shocked me a bit because I thought I had hurt her. But she got up again after.
This past year she started sleeping a lot more, and since I only go to Delta once a month at most, I knew I probably had under 10 more times to see her, which doesn't sound like a lot. But most of the times when I went back, I took her on some nice satisfying walks. Once, I brought Sera back to meet Lady and we walked down to the river near the blackberry bushes in the Watershed and took pics.
Lady got her paws wet and drank river water as usual. Walking Lady for the past few years had been a lot slower going uphill. No amount of cajoling could make her hurry up. But she still got excited whenever she saw the blue leash. I could tell she wanted to jump up on me and prance, but her body wouldn't let her, so her eyes were the sole means of communicating her excitement.
The last walk I ever took her on was 3 or 4 weeks ago. I went with Dad, and we went to the Watershed park. We didn't cut through the ditch like I used to; we took Summit. Lady did very well, and I even had trouble keeping up as she walk-jogged down the hill. We took some random trails towards the South, and Dad was afraid she'd get too far ahead of us and end up on the road, so we caught her and put her on the leash.
It was hard to catch her! She kept jogging ahead even though Dad chased her! When we headed back, we came across about four fallen trees across the trail. We tried to pull Lady under the first one and she wouldn't budge, so we tried to get her to step over it, but to no avail. Finally, I got dad to lift her over, since I didn't want to get my coat dirty.
We cheered her on. When she made it over the first one, we told her "Good job! You did it all by yourself!" and laughed because it was really Dad who did it all. And as soon as she saw the next three logs, she turned in the opposite direction and laid down obstinately, which was also funny. With more help, she finally conquered all four logs and made it home.. a pretty spectacular effort for a half-limping 16.5 year old dog.
Dad actually took her on about three more walks before she died, so he told me. Last Thursday Oct 16th, Mom called, saying Lady was in bad shape. Couldn't walk, had diarrhea, etc. and that I should come home to say bye. So I came home for a couple hours on Friday before work. I was surprised to see her in fine shape, walking around and even going downstairs to chew on a bone I gave her, in the pouring rain.
I dried her off with lots of papertowels and took some pics and videos. She stayed down in the yard after chewing her bone, and walked around in circles, like she was looking for something. She wasn't particularly interactive. She seemed more detached. No shaking paw or being playful. The only thing she did was lick my hands a few times, the last day I saw her.
Anyway, a week later, Mom and Dad called AND emailed, saying she was in worse shape. That she had laid down and never gotten up again. That she also had diarrhea. And that late at night, Dad had found her behind a bush, crying, and he'd carried her upstairs. Mom's email was this:
Sorry to border you again about Lady. Last night at 1a.m. Dad heard her crying in the yard, so he went out in the rain to look for her. She was hiding behind a bush. Dad got her to come out and she won't want to go upstair. She staggered a few circle. Finally Dad picked her up and carry her upstairs.
The day before, she staggered out of her house and flopped infront of it. She cried and did not even had strength to pull herself up (probably in pain). This past weekend , We insulated her house for her coat is so thin and she is not eating much. I even spent $50 to buy a bottle of bioflavanoid from the pet store, it is supposed to be very good for old pets. But she has constant diaherra. So I am afraid it is no use for her.
This morning she is lying outside her house in her waste and totally listless. I am afraid she is not going to last.
Do you want to come home in the weekend to explore some solutions?
I had previously not wanted to put her down, but I sort of decided then that we should. Mom wanted to do it Friday but I had work, and I wanted it to be on a day when everyone was around. So we waited for Saturday. Sera said she wanted to see Lady again, so I took her with me and she slept over in Delta. After work, I rushed over to T&T and bought two packs of frozen pre-marinated New Zealand rack of lamb to share with Lady for her last meal (And because I love it..).
Mom and Dad had taken Lady's igloo house apart and put the top half over her after laying her on newspaper and covering her with blankets. Mom got mad when I said I wanted to bring her into the kitchen. Apparently she stank, which Dad confirmed. But with the igloo top over her, she smelled okay. Sera and I visited with her, and after Mom went to sleep, I gave her two lamb popsicles, cut up. She LOVED it, and licked the plate. Gave her some water too. Although in retrospect maybe I should have given her more, as the vet said her leaky eye may have been a symptom of dehydration.
I stayed up late scanning photos of Lady, and highschool pics, and heard Lady cry a few times but nothing much. I went out to check on her a few times. The last time I went out, I tip toed out and then made a TSK noise. She woke up, so I could tell her hearing was still at least 50% there. I know her sense of smell was there because she could smell the bone when I hid it below the window the previous week. And she could still see too, but I'm not sure how bad her cataracts were.
She lay there with her front paws splayed out, and her head on the ground. It was raining and cold and there was thunder, or at least the sound of ominous jet engines. Obviously I didn't sleep well that night, and had dreams all night playing out next day's events. Although I woke up unrefreshed, I felt calmer, because my dreams had sorted out things for me, and mentally prepared me.
Her vet appointment was supposed to be at 11, but was postponed until 1. At 11, we all gathered to give her a half bath (wash her bum), since she'd been lying in poo and pee. We lifted her on top of an overturned laundry basket to do so, and blow dried her fur after and it worked well. Then we took lots of pics and videos and I fed her more lamb. She licked the plate again. Before her bath, Dad and I laughed when mom sprayed water in her eye to wash out what looked to be an infection, and lady lapped up the water that fell on the plate mom held underneath.
After the bath, she obviously smelled and looked much better, and we covered her with a blanket and let her lay there for 45 minutes or so, before her appointment. Sera noticed she stared right at the camera when Dad was filming. She wasn't as interactive as her past self, but when we laughed, her ears and eyes would perk up. And she waved her tail a tiny bit before the bath but I don't know if that was out of happiness or otherwise.
Sera and Dad have all the pics and videos; I have yet to see them. I want to see them but am not in a huge rush. It would be good if I viewed them later, maybe months later even, so that my memories of the events would be independent, and watching the videos would be fresh and new, like having her here again. Then maybe my own memories, and the footage would combine to give me the most accurate memories, rather than the pics and videos being a crutch.
I'm so glad Lady was in such good company in her last moments. That was what she always wanted most, besides walks. To be with us, and be part of the family. That's why she spent 95% of her time at the window, and whenever I was over, the window would always be opened so she could stick her head in. There was nothing as comforting as petting her soft head, and giving her the back of my hand to sniff or lick. The fur around her mouth was so soft and fuzzy, and I'll never forget how it felt on the back of my hand, or when she snuck her muzzle in my ear and went 'sniff sniff sniff... WHUFF!'
It's weird putting all this into words because it's pretty much been unspoken for 16.5 years. I felt like I was looking into a mirror when I looked at her face. Sometimes we'd stare at each other for 10 minutes nonstop. When I was sad at Gilmour I'd go down to the garage and cry and hug her. Sometimes she'd get so serious, and I'd want to make her have fun and be a puppy again. So I'd get down on my hands and knees and pretend to be a dog... growl, bark, and when she wasn't looking, pinch her and clack my teeth so she'd think I'd actually bitten her.
This was like speaking her language, and she would without fail, always be delighted when I did that. She'd bounce up and down, taking little jumps, like an arching dolphin, and shake her head in a silly way, or play 'catch me if you can.' Sometimes I'd run from one end of the deck to the other and she'd try to catch me, making a huge ruckus as her nails hit the deck. Then I'd stop when I got to the railing and she'd jump up and put her paws on the railing and I'd pet her head as she smiled and panted.
When I wore my black cat slippers she'd give them a strange look, no doubt wondering if they'd come alive. I'd often give her scraps of table food, and late at night, if I was staying up to write an essay on the computer, I'd sneak her in the sliding door and let her lay under the desk to warm my feet. And of course, later, I'd have to push her out in the cold again due to Mom's rules.
Her favorite places to go would be Watershed Park, Wade Rd Park, and Seaquam field. No matter where in the neighbourhood we walked, she seemed to know when we were passing one of those, and she'd pull in that direction and sometimes leap up and lick me if we turned around and didn't go where she wanted. And when we came home, she'd walk as slow as she could, dragging her feet to show she wanted her whole life to consist of one neverending walk.
Lady's personality was more of a crybaby than Beethoven, and that's why I think I liked Beethoven better when we had both. But it took Bee to die for me to appreciate Lady so much, something I never thought would happen. It really showed me how we can miss subtle beauty that is overshadowed by other things. Beethoven had a strong, crazy personality and I admired him almost for being a role model, inspiring me with braveness. Lady was more a dog to be protected, which inspired the opposite in me.. a more nurturing quality.
She was always scared of other dogs, and tentative around new people. She'd stick close to my legs and hide behind me when other dogs approached on walks. It amazed me how a member of the canine species preferred the company of me over other canines. It amazed me how a homo sapiens like me preferred her company over other people. It was almost like we were part of our own species, which was neither homo sapiens or canine.
One of my favorite memories was going down to the river in the watershed park maybe in grade 10.. and finding a hidden spot behind the huge tangles of blackberry, where there was a small stream/ditch, with chirping birds and other pond creatures/plants. Nobody could find us there, and Lady would splash around in the water, getting muddy and wet.
It has been so long since we took her on a real hike on a mountain though. Dogs' bodies apparently start deteriorating around age 8, so probably around the year 2000 was the last time we took her on hikes. But I do know she loved hiking, or going anywhere in a car. There are too many memories to list... taking her to the local Delta airport / marsh area where I practiced photography and she ran in the long grass, Centennial beach with Julian, where she waded in the water, then sat in the backseat of his car on the way home...
I posted this the other day:
She had a great life.. but of course, she could always have done with just one more walk. She lived for walks. But what dog doesn't.Sometimes she used to take herself on walks. If someone accidentally left the back yard gate open (before we installed a spring loaded latch), she would tiptoe out, and amble down the street. Not that far, but sometimes she'd be gone for an hour, sniffing around, and we wouldn't even know until a neighbour would return her. And she'd have a slightly guilty yet victorious expression. With a dab of feigned innocence. Like "Aha! I fooled you, silly humans. But I will act like I didn't know it was bad, so that my doggy conscience won't bother me when I escape next time!"
I never want to forget how she was scared of thunder and fireworks and would bark forever and we'd put her in the garage or workshop. How she made me feel unafraid to walk around my own neighbourhood. When you walk by yourself around the block, it is a bit strange. People don't really go for walks by themselves, although I wouldn't have minded doing so in Ontario. But here in BC, she instilled a sense of freedom in me, and helped me get out of the house more, which was a good thing.
I don't even want to forget little, 'insignificant' things like how she would eat grapes just because she saw me eating them. Or how much fur she shed, so that it would take a good hour to thoroughly brush her (raw food diet might have helped prevent that). Sometimes her side lip would catch on her upper teeth, making a sort of playful sneer. I sort of captured it in one of the last vids I took.
I'll continued to write down more memories later, as I think of them, but for now, on with the recount of her last hour. We were going to put her in the back of the minivan but I decided right away we needed to use the back of my car because there was more room. Jared carried her down on her mat and loaded her in, then pet her to say goodbye. Mom and Dad fought a bit as usual, about who was going to come along, and without Sera there I'm sure it would have escalated into a much larger argument that would have ruined my good memories of her death. (That last phrase is sort of an oxymoron).
The vet was only 5 minutes away. Mom went in to confirm we arrived, and they took a payment beforehand. Mom and Dad didn't care to get her ashes back, but I did, so Dad paid the additional $40 for that later on. I asked the vet for a brief diagnoses; I wanted to be sure we were making the right choice. She said that Lady was possibly suffering from organ failure, dehydration (which I feel a bit guilty about.. were we making sure she had enough water? She had a bucket and a plate of water nearby, but did Mom and Dad give her lots of water on the plate? I think so, because there was water sitting on the plate when I arrived). She also seemed to have a tender 'disk' on her shoulder blades, and possible spine problem. She had obviously lost tons of weight and had little meat on her. So I feel reasonably confident she was beyond repair. The vet said with certainty that it was the right time to put her to sleep.
"You can see she's not enjoying life anymore," the vet said. And indeed, Lady looked quite listless. The vet gave her a treat, and let us have some time with her before giving her a small sedative. The sedative took ten minutes to fully kick in, and as she relaxed and her eyes drooped, it seemed almost like a gift we were giving her. It seemed natural, like she'd wanted to relax for so long, but couldn't fully relax because she had been forcing herself to pay attention to the people standing over her, petting her and talking to her. Her body relaxed and she was calm. But, as Sera noted, her face still perked when we laughed. She heard us laugh!
Funny to be writing that I wasn't sobbing, but I mentally prepared myself beforehand and told myself "I want to remember her most accurately, and if I'm sobbing, I won't be able to absorb every detail. I want to focus on her, not wiping my tears."
Besides, I've been crying for years (yes, years!) as I anticipated this day. Not to mention crying all night for hours, in the past few weeks. After a while, crying becomes exhausting. Anyway, the vet said to take our time, and finally asked when we were ready for the final shot. She brought in her assistant to help hold Lady's leg as they shaved off an area. She asked if I wanted to add it to the bag where she'd already shaved off some fur from the left part of Lady's neck as a keepsake (Lady was lying on her right hand side). I said no, because the hair was really short and fine, and would likely just look messy when mixed in with the long fur. In retrospect it might have been nice to have some of that softer, shorter fur too, but oh well, there has to be a point where you stop and say 'no more keepsakes' or else you might as well embalm her whole body, and what good would that be? It would be creepy.
The final shot was an overdose of sedative, the vet told us. I held Lady's head, and it was as sad as was to be expected, but I was able to control my emotions and not cry too much. I put one hand over her mouth so I could feel her warm breath. We were told it would take about 10 seconds for the shot to take effect. It seemed like a lot of sedative in a big needle, and it went into her vein in her back leg for a long time.. maybe a full minute.
She breathed maybe 10 more breaths.. longer than I expected until she gradually stopped. It was so gradual I could barely notice the change. The vet checked her heart and told us it stopped, but I still felt one last tiny breath after that. Then she lay still, and her eyes were open, so I shut them as best as I could, although they didn't really want to stay totally closed. We stayed petting her and talking to her for 10 or 15 more minutes. My Dad kept a hand on her chest, making sure her heart had stopped, I supposed. I gave her lots of kisses on her nose, and called her a good doggy, which of course she is.
It was really a good way to die, and I remarked that I only hope I could go that way too... eating a rack of lamb and peacefully falling asleep. The vet and Sera referred to her as 'sweetie pie,' and indeed, she is sweet, but I find that too girly for her. She is more of a 'good doggy' to me, since I know her wild teenage years. I don't regret putting her to sleep. She was already half wasted away. I wasn't so upset about her withered body, but the most shameful sad thing was how it affected her personality. How she didn't seem to have the will to go on, or be playful. I tried to tell myself she would have if she could have. To not be able to fully show her love to us was the worst thing. I'll take those last few hand licks from the night over nothing, however.
The thing that cuts like a knife is the fact that I've accompanied her as much as I could throughout life, but I couldn't be with her when she left us via death. She's always been a scardy cat and I worry about her even now, if her spirit still exists somewhere. I worry that she's lonely and missing me, as much as I miss her. I'd rather I feel all the pain of missing her than for her to be out there somewhere, crying.
I've thought so much about the unconditional love she gave me, and how she is/was the last being on earth who truly loved me unconditionally. I could do no wrong in her eyes. The only thing to do now, it would seem, is to in turn, find other dogs/kids/people to bestow unconditional love upon, so that they can have the same memory. I really think the best thing to experience in life is unconditional love. So now that the Uncle Tony's, Grandma Watsons, Beethovens and Ladys of my life are all gone, it's my turn to play that role for someone else. The question is, who will it be?
For now, I'm trying as hard as I can to remember every detail about Lady, because memories are sometimes so unreliable. The best memories are fleeting feelings and snapshots that are imprinted randomly on my mind... the feel of her soft muzzle, that 'wuffle' in my ear.. her shivering even when it wasn't cold, her whining and barking for attention, and.. how could I forget, her EXHILARATION when I came home. As the years went on she didn't have as much energy to show her exhilaration, but I still remember it, and Mom and Dad would smile when she flipped out over my arrival. Barking and crying and running around, and wildly sniffing me, and sneezing, and hoping for me to procure a leash. We obviously had a connection nobody else had. It is those times I want to remember most, because she made me feel more wanted than anyone else in the world.
And during those peak years.. from puppyhood to maybe age 10 or 12, she had the physical strength that gave her the freedom to express any emotion she wanted.
I find it surreal that Lady's gone. She's been a permanent fixture for more than 2/3rds of my life. I'll probably wake up sometimes expecting her to be alive and then realizing she's gone. Even though I was present at her death, I sometimes feel like I may doubt she is really dead. Right now her body is probably sitting in a refrigerator at the vet's, cold and lifeless. She will be sent out tomorrow morning for cremation, and her ashes will come back Tuesday. It's all so surreal, and I kind of wish I could have been euthanized along with her, so I could climb into that fire with her. But I guess I have to do the 'sane' thing and instead sprinkle her ashes in the Watershed park. I thought about saving some to take back to Ontario and sprinkle in the woods, but that would be like splitting up her body, so I think just the Watershed Park will be fine.
It will be nice to know that the remains of her body are in the park, every time I walk there. When I walk there, I'll see her sniffing through shrubs and galloping around like a young puppy. I miss her so much, and I'll probably think about her every day until I die. I'll write down more memories of her that come to me later. I love you Lady!!
