Saying Goodbye

Eight years ago, this week, Jeff and I made the decision to go and donate blood. On our way home, we noticed people on the side of the road selling puppies, and I begged Jeff to stop. I found a beautiful, little Black Lab/Blue Heeler mix puppy who was quiet, and calm. As I picked her up she immediately started to lick my face, and wouldn't stop. I turned and smiled at Jeff, who was holding another small Black Lab puppy in his arms, with a bright bow around her neck.

We were informed that they were six weeks old, and the last from their litter. In a moment of weakness that, to this day Jeff blames on blood loss, we purchased both and brought them home, unable to leave them behind and unwilling to chose between them. From that moment on they were a part of our family. We named the one with the bow Mischief (Missy) and the other Mayhem (May).

Over the years they have been a part of our lives, making us want to laugh at times, or yell in frustration; sometimes both at once as they have destroyed property to such an extent it's almost comical.

The last two years we noticed May began to gain weight, and her defining characteristic, boundless energy, decreased. In April of this year she was diagnosed as diabetic, and we immediately set to work to stabilize her glucose levels with insulin. For a short time we were marginally successful. She regained some of her former energy, but was never quite the same. A week and a half ago we returned to the vet and were told to double her insulin shots. From that point on things took a downward turn from which there was no turning back. Yesterday, due to extremely low glucose levels, she was too weak to get to the shade, her temperature climbed to 106, and she started having seizures as a result of heat stroke.

I called Jeff, who sprinted to the train in his work clothes, raced home, and rushed her to the vet where he was told things were grim. There was really nothing they could do. He called home, and after a short discussion it was decided that it was time to let her go. We know we made the right decision, but it was a very hard one to make. Our one comfort is that we know for certain she is no longer hurting.

Upon returning home, Jeff was immediately showered in hugs and kisses from Norah and Justin, who had thankfully napped through the whole episode and were unaware of what had transpired. We spent the evening petting Missy, and talking to the kids who were asking about May's absence. We explained, not without tears, that May was too sick to stay with us and had gone to live with God. Norah replied, "Yeah, God likes dogs, but not bad dogs." May was a very sweet and very good dog, so we should be comforted.

After the kids were fed, bathed and laid down for bed, Jeff and I wandered outside to sit with Missy. We started talking about all the wonderful moments we've had over the last 8 years with the tandem of Missy and May. It's impossible to talk about one without the other as they have always been together, and each of their actions is in response to the other. They competed in everything, even their desire to eat was mainly driven by a desire to get theirs before their sibling got it.

It is both sad and a blessing that the kids are so young. They are old enough to have gotten to interact with her and know her, but too young to really understand what is happening. We know that all too soon they will probably forget her, and that in a short time, they will have no memory of her. We were also saddened by the realization that with a dog memory being what it is, in a short time Missy will almost certainly forget May too. Although she will probably continue to be sad and lonely, she might not even know why. Thankfully we have the opportunity to keep her busy and make the happiness outweigh the loneliness. She is currently battling heartworms, but we are dedicated do our best to nurture her and keep her healthy.

We take comfort in the knowledge that we will not forget May. We will continue to remember her habit of always following Jeff around, her inability to avoid hitting her head on Jeff's leg as she turned around, her love of chasing squirrels and laser pointers, her inexplicable need to lunge for our faces and lick us with her giant "Odie" tongue. We will never forget the little puppy who gave us her immediate and unconditional love and will forever carry her in our hearts and minds.

So exactly 8 years after she came into our lives, we say goodbye to our Sweet May. We will always remember her and are richer for having had her in our lives.

We will always love you May.