The heart can truly break!

by Jeanne Perciaccanto

This past week I was faced with the most difficult and devastating aspect of dog ownership, to terminate the end of a precious friend’s life. 

There is a distinct separation between the brain and the heart. 

I could see her decline. I knew she was sick and the sudden onset of an aggressive form of lymphoma would take her quickly. I had her to Vet twice in a few days before the final visit and her ultimate end.  

My heart fought against the inevitable.

As her life begun to decline, I could still see sparks of who my friend had always been still shine through.  More from her undeniable will to be for me, then anything I did for her.

Her desire to be with me increased.  She never left my side in the house.  Each time I had to leave, she stood at the door in anticipation of going for a car ride.

I began taking her to classes I teach, but when the distance of the walk through the building became more difficult for her, she was willing to wait in the car. I can only believe being there was more satisfying than being home.  I would see her sitting up in the back seat alert for my return as her life’s’ role had always been my guardian and guide.

The torment leading up to her demise was unbearable.  This was not the first time I had to face this decision, as all dogs come to this end all too quickly.  This time was more difficult to face than others for me, she had that special something.

She of course knew she was sick but I pray to she had no knowledge that her feeling ill was nothing more than a feeling, yet, I think dogs seem to have a better insight on death than we seem to be capable of understanding.

As the disease rapidly progressed, I could see there was something more going on with her than the lymphoma.  Her body shape seemed to slowly change. Her breathing became more labored at times and seemed to abate to normal at other times.  My brain analyzed what I saw but my heart was feeling the pain of acceptance.

As dog owners, we are forced to walk a fine line, our decisions always final.  We guess.  Is she capable of more or incapable continuing?  Is she struggling for me as I struggled within myself?  I watched for signs to make things seem normal and that I still had time together and mine to still love her.  She still told the cat to back off her food.  She told me to fill the water bowl.  She still loved her petting and back scratches and of course to take her favorite car rides.  Does her life still offer satisfaction in her older days or is it just a struggle to keep me happy?

The day I had to let her go, I was watching her as she slept on the floor.  Her chest exaggerated to expand more.  Her belly had become more distended over night and felt like it was becoming mushy.  I had realized what I was seeing over the past few days was her going into congestive heart failure.  This was confirmed when she was weighed and had gained back the 6 pounds she lost in two days without food intake to support this gain.  I knew it was her filling with fluids.  The decision was no longer mine to make.  Life had run its inevitable course and nature reached its final conclusion, it was time.

She was willing to go for that last car ride. She was willing to enter the Vet’s office for her last visit and accept her favorite treats.  She even willing got onto the lift table with a simple command of place, the best dog to the end.  She willingly and bravely accepted the shot to sedate her, gently falling asleep in my arms for one last time.  She willingly accepted her end with the grace and fortitude in which she lived it.

I, on the other hand, was and still am a blubbering mess.  My heart is broken at the loss of such a wonderful girl who touched so many lives with her playful spirit.  The best working dog who did whatever asked of her and more.  A pal I could go and play with or curl up on couch with on cold nights.

She gracefully left a life which had given its final all and I am left with a void in my life and a broken heart that feels like it will never heal.

She lived 14 years.  She was accidentally rescued from a shelter at 2 years old by a friend who was there to pick up another dog.  Not able to pass up that sweet face, my friend inquired about this little girl.  This was the day she scheduled to be put down, classified an unattainable dog they said but she showed them all in the end.

She ran probably a thousand miles in play.  She touched a thousand hearts with her skill and playful spirit.  She trained thousands of dogs in class as my training assistant.  She probably had a thousand car rides.  She left this life having lived it a thousand ways every day.

Sleep well my love until we meet again!