A Dog’s Life

My dog is dying. The vet said she might have a few weeks left, but I think it is a matter of days. This is the part of sharing your life with pets that everyone dreads.

Minnie was called Tina and was the companion of an elderly woman in Cranston before she came to live with us not quite three years ago. When her elderly friend’s  dementia progressed to to point that she needed to move into a nursing home, Tina/Minnie ended up at the municipal pound. Her owner’s only family was a nephew in Texas and was either unwilling/unable take her in. Pat from the pound said she was going to call the woman to tell her Tina had been adopted, but she wasn’t sure the woman would be able to understand. I have often thought about how Minnie was probably this woman’s only friend, and it was obvious by Minnie’s behavior that she was coddled and spoiled during their time together. I imagine she was lonely. Who doesn’t fear facing old age alone, of losing control of their mental and physical faculties? The companionship of an animal can be a powerful thing at any time of life, but I imagine it is a particular comfort in old age for many people. I hope in caring for Minnie we have honored that elderly woman.

Beagles are dogs that love their pack. We have shared adventures great and small. She came to Ocean City, Maryland with us and touched noses with a wild pony on Assateague Island. It was the off season and Ocean City was deserted, but the weather was uncharacteristically warm and the beaches belonged to us. We took sunny walks along the boardwalk and made friends. Unlike cranky old Riley, Minnie has always excelled at making friends. She is a jolly little creature. One thing we were unable to do on that vacation was leave the dogs alone – Minnie would make her displeasure known with a bay that reverberated through the hotel. The hounds would ride with us to the supermarket or restaurant and wait in the car while one of us would run inside to procure meals. They even came to the indoor hot tub – we tied them to the railing, right next to the bottle of whiskey and glasses we had also brought along. Minnie’s voice echoing off the walls was a glorious thing.

She was there when I brought my baby home. We hope our boy will be a gentle soul who is a friend to dogs, and his delight in Minnie has been a pleasure for two proud parents to behold.

She has been a good friend to us, and we to her. A old dog’s death is a small thing to the world, of course, but it is a sad thing for us to say goodbye nonetheless.

It’s cancer, in her chest. She is having a difficult time breathing and eating is a challenge. She’s on antibiotics and cough medicine, and is sleeping on the couch wrapped in a Red Sox blanket. There is a pound of roast beef for her in the fridge when she is ready to eat a little.

We knew she was sick, but we didn’t realize how sick. I feel guilty for not taking her to the vet sooner. It’s almost as if she took a turn for the worse when the diagnosis was delivered. It wouldn’t have made a difference, as far as the terminal cancer diagnosis goes – but maybe we could have made her more comfortable? She doesn’t seem like she’s in pain, although she doesn’t seem like a well dog, either. Yesterday, though, she still enjoyed sticking her nose out the car window and sniffing the bushes outside the vet’s office. There is still some enjoyment of life. We are going to do everything we can to make things as happy and comfortable for her until she dies naturally or we decide there is no quality of life. We should all be so lucky to have such a death, I know. But this is hard.

I am so sorry for all the times I was impatient with her. Beagles are not always an easy breed to live with and she could get on my last nerve. Not Bob, never never Bob. He treasured Minnie, to the point that I would roll my eyes at the silliness of it all. But now he has nothing to regret, and I do. She never held any of my shortcomings and failures of patience against me. I was the giver of dog massages, after all.

It is my fault for repeatedly adopting geriatric dogs from the pound. I can’t help it – I look into their eyes and I know what we can be to each other. They are hard to find homes for through no fault of their own. My own stupid fault and I will probably do it all over again. There’s just something about old dogs that tugs at my heart.

” He is your friend, your partner,
your defender, your dog.
You are his life, his love, his leader. He will
be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat
of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of
such devotion.”

Unknown

“Dogs are our link to paradise. They don’t know
evil or jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog
on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back
in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring–
it was peace.”

Milan Kundera

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