How do you say goodbye to a dear friend? To one you have known and loved for the last 10 years? One that was always by your side with a big smile and a wagging tail?
As I write this, I try to keep myself in control, yet tears keep coming out. And even though this is being written a week after the above date, it is still fresh and painful.
Over 10 years ago, we had one dog and one cat. Our lab, Corky, had passed on about 18 months earlier at the age of 13 years and 8 months. Our husky, Cheetah, had been an only dog since then. Our neighbor told us that she had a friend that had MS, and that he was to the point that he could not keep his two dogs, both golden retrievers. His ex-wife was taking the older one, but he needed a home for the younger one. We were not necessarily looking for another dog, but we adopted this almost two year old bundle of energy.
Bebe came into our lives like she knew she should be there. She was eager to please, eager to love. All she wanted in return was to be loved, and to be as close to us as possible. She even got Cheetah to play with her, which made her happier. During the 10 years we had her, we lost our first cat, Mandy (at age 21) and Cheetah (at age 12), and adopted my nephew’s cat Isis, and another husky, Duchess.
But Bebe was always the one that was constantly with us. She had to be in the room we were in. Once she learned to get up in the bed, that was her spot as well as ours. Our bed always slept three, and many times four (two people, one cat, one dog). But it was her being there that comforted us when the other was out of town. Of course many times during the night one heard “Move over Bebe.”
Bebe was the type of dog that just wanted to be with me. I could walk her outside without a leash (although I still used one) as she would not run off. I remember walking her one morning when a neighbor’s dog who had escaped his yard came over to say hi. When I tried to lead him back home, he would go in a different direction. So I took the leash off Bebe and put it on the other dog and led him home. Bebe just stayed with me.
But Bebe has been having trouble with her hips and back leg for a while now, probably the better part of a year. Her walking got worse. Then we noticed that she had this big lump near the hip on her back leg. I took her into the vet to have it looked at, and he did a biopsy. It took almost a week to get the results back, but it was bone cancer (osteo-sarcoma was what I was told). Rather than do something drastic (like have the leg cut off), we decided to let it run its course, and care for her as best we could. But while we expected this to be a month or so, she suddenly went downhill rapidly.
She had been starting to have trouble getting up and moving on her back legs, and I had been giving her Reiki daily. Then on the day we found out the results, she started having trouble moving her back legs at all. It was to the point that we were supporting her back end with a sling to get her in and out.
Yesterday, we came home to find her in a pile of poop. It seemed she did not even know she was doing it. We took her out, cleaned her up as well as the rug. And other than not being able to walk, she was fine. She was alert and happy.
We did not bring her to bed with us last night. She cried where she was. I ended up spending the entire night sleeping next to her on the floor. When she would cry, I would reach out my hand and put it on her. She instantly settled and went back to sleep.
I woke up early to find that she needed to be cleaned up again. She had also picked up a cough. The fact that she could not move her legs and seemed to have lost control of her bodily functions told us that the time had come. The doctor had been talking about some pain pill to help her move, but I was afraid that she was now beyond this. I called the vet and made a late morning appointment, the earliest available. I worked a couple of hours near her on the computer, than gave her more Reiki. Reiki can be the energy that the spirit uses to move to the other side. I wanted to make sure that she had enough to make the trip okay.
When the vet saw her, he was surprised how quickly the cancer had moved. It was going up her spine and shutting things down as it went. Had I waited, she might have lost her ability to breathe and then suffocated.
The doctor told me that he thought the only thing to do was euthanasia, and asked if I wanted to bring her back later or tomorrow. I told him “now.” It would not do Bebe any good to wait and come back. She did not want to come in there in the first place. The doc then asked if I wanted to be there or not and I told him that I was not leaving. I was going with her as far as I could.
I had about 20 minutes to talk with her and hug her. I watched the computer monitor in the room with her record up as it was updated from another location. It hurt to see ‘deceased’ come on the screen when she was still breathing.
I told her that I loved her, and that she was such a good girl. I told her she was the best dog ever, and she was. I ruffled her ears playfully. I kissed her and got kissed back. And she was still awake and alert and happy. (When I have had to do this before, each in its own way had decided that it was time to go. Bebe did not want to, but accepted it.) I told her that there would be a couple friends waiting for her. Cheetah would be able to introduce her to Winston and Corky, and Mandy would be able to introduce her to all the others (Alfie, Ursa, Casper, Murphy) as she had seen them all come and go. At least there would be plenty of friends for her to play with. I told her to come see me when she could. (When Murphy passed, I kept waking up feeling this cat head pushing under my hand to be petted. But of course there was no one there.)
Finally they came in and gave her a sedative, which relaxed her. After about five minutes, they gave her final shot. I was loving and petting her, and giving her energy the whole time. The doc listened to her heart and told me when it stopped beating. He told me I could stay as long as I liked, but at that point, I was looking at an empty shell. Bebe had gone. I reached over and closed the eyes and left.
It has been hard adjusting, as it always is. Our pets seem to be aged apart so that we seem to go through this every five or six years. Right now, we all need to adjust. At one point tonight, Duchess came over and started licking my ear. I told her that I understood and I missed Bebe as well. I just knew this was what she was doing that for.
As I write this a week after the date above, I know I had a visit. I got up to use the bathroom during the night. When I came back to bed, I felt like I needed to check to see if Bebe was lying in my spot on the bed. There was, of course, no one there. But just that feeling tells me she was.
Death is fine for those who pass. Death only sucks for the living, those of us left behind who have holes in their lives where loved ones used to be. Someday, I will be reunited with all my loved ones, but right now, I have some holes to deal with.