When J and I decided to adopt a friend for X, we wanted an older dog. We searched and looked all over. On our way out of the city shelter in Baltimore, there was a racket coming from a dark little side room. The shelter volunteer let me go in and open the door of a medium-sized airline crate, jam-packed with puppies crawling all over one another, saturated in mud and waste. Those poor little things. Maybe I could just hold them a little?
The volunteer shrugged and led us to a visiting room, and dumped the lot out onto the floor. J and I played with them tried to comfort them, and then we went home. We continued our search throughout just about every shelter and adoption event in the state. Somehow we never found the right furry friend. And somehow, we kept talking about those puppies. Somehow, even though we had agreed not to choose a puppy- we ended up back in the same room, with the same puppies- the four left now that they had been made available for adoption.
They were all cute and full of personality.
Except one.
One didn't play and yip and nip and wiggle. It didn't chase a toy or tackle our faces or chew our toes. It just cowered. It wasn't cute, either. The runt of the litter, it was all black and had a body too small for it's head, which was too small for its ears, leaving it looking more like a bat than a canine. It was painfully skinny and bony, mangy and scraggly with goopy eyes. It had little scars and bald patches from being picked on by it's brothers and sisters.
It shivered by the door as J and I wrestled the tumbling roly-poly rest of them, and then slowly, quietly, so we didn't even notice, crept up, crawled into my lap, curled up, and sighed.
Oh my goodness. J could tell by my face in that instant that resistance was futile. She crawled into my heart the same time she crept into my lap.
E ended up in the shelter because her litter had been a "welfare seizure"- meaning they were forcibly removed from their first owner due to abuse. Between that and being the bullied runt, she came with all kinds of problems. Medical problems (mange, worms, mites, infections). And psychological problems- terror at loud sounds, strangers, or long objects (brooms, mops, spatulas).
The vacuum cleaner was the actual devil as far as she was concerned. She would yelp and hightail it to what became her bunker- the exact center spot under our bed. A passing motorcycle could send her there for the rest of the day.
She was hard to train because she couldn't stand raised voices or crates. And you try getting a stubborn dog out from under a queen sized bed- it's like wrestling a rabid chimp while spelunking in a cave tunnel.
She had food issues to the extreme. If I set out a full bag of dog food, she'd have eaten her way to the bottom until she actually exploded. We know this because she has eaten herself into violent illness every chance she's ever had. She'd inhale, engulf her food. And she would eat anything. We'd let her out to pee and find her tunneling into the compost pile, refusing to give up a half-rotten banana peel.
This got her sick all the time. E throwing up became as normal as a colicky baby's spit-up- there was always something. Once a neighbor threw chicken bones to her over the fence.
That ended in a week-long veterinary hospital vacay to the tune of a couple thousand dollars.
She got car sick. She hated to get wet. She was afraid of dogs, squirrels, big rocks, steep hills, puddles, and everything else ever.
As she grew older, she drove us to insanity by growling at everyone who entered/walked by/drove by/made any audible sound from any distance. At 45 pounds, looking like a sleek black german shepherd, she scared the bejeezus out of I don't know how many people. Once she followed my grandpa around the house nipping his heels. She always waited until no one was looking. Poor guy had some dementia by then, and no one believed him for days until she got caught.
She developed a strange habit of picking out the weakest looking kid on the playground or person in a group, waiting until their back was turned, then racing over, nipping them in the butt, and darting away. She was so stealthy, people sometimes would look around and think they had imagined it.
We sent her away to a trainer for weeks. Not much changed, except our bank account.
But we loved her all the same.
As a puppy, neurotic and skittish as she was, she was so sweet, so affectionate. She loved for me to rock her like a baby, to carry her around. Even nearing 50lb, she always thought she was a lap dog at worst, a furry baby human at best.
Though we wanted a companion for X, he turned out to hate the idea. The first thing he did when he met E was to bite her soundly on the nose. Despite that, she adored him so constantly and gently that he finally gave in, and the dog who hates dogs would curl up to her to sleep at night.
E surprised us by becoming the quintessential loyal companion to all of our littles. She'd fiercely guard and protect them from all real and imaginary threats. She'd plays with them tirelessly, and was always, always there to snuggle. Ever since Little One was small, I'd look over in the yard and see Her draped over E like a blanket, suffocating her probably. Singing. E would just lie there like it was the best day of her life, wagging her tail.
She's raised her hocks at every stranger, but never growled or snapped at our babies, no matter what. She's patiently let them climb on her, dress her up, "wash" her, lead her around, tug on her ears, brush her, wrestle her, and take her toys. I once was two steps too far away to stop Mister as He went up to her during her dinner, and curiously reached his arm inside her mouth- while she was chewing- and pulled out some of her food. She just looked at Him, licked His hand, and went on with her kibble.
She would never run away. When we'd walk she kept her pace just at my heel. She would do anything asked of her as long as she understood. After nine years of being loved by us (even if she did drive J and I crazy half the time), she settled into being a really sweet, loyal dog. To us. To extended family, she finally got friendly, too. To strangers, She would threaten death until J or I told her to back off. Which frankly I was ok with. No one was going to abduct my Littles from the backyard while I get the laundry. And she never, ever stopped loving to curl up in my lap. It was her most favorite thing. Except food.
Which is how we knew something was wrong.
It was actually Little One who knew first.
"Mom, sompin's not right with E. Her tail's not right and her ears are all down. I think she's sick."
Little One and E have been best friends since day one. They've spent the summer playing pirates digging for treasure together, being explorers racing around the yard, thieves stealing J's tomatoes for snacks, fairies learning how to fly. (In fact I took her to the vet covered in glitter.)
Little One knows E like no one else.
After Little One's tip, I watched E closely. She was acting droopy. And, despite the fact that she'd been getting fat and the Littles had been getting scolded for feeding the dogs a lot when they weren't supposed to- she wasn't really eating much of anything. X was eating her leftovers, and she hardly touched her bowl.
The more I thought about it, the more she didn't look fat, just weirdly heavy in the belly. When my mom came, she agreed. She urged me to take her in. Knowing E, I assumed she'd eaten something she shouldn't have. The Sisters came with me, and I joked, "how much will it cost us to fix you up this time, silly girl?" But it wasn't that.
It was a tumor. The size of a small watermelon. It was taking up her entire abdomen, squeezing her organs aside. It was so big, it took a radiology specialist to ultrasound around it and find out where it was even coming from. It was her spleen. Apparently that happens, in dogs. Sometimes.
We were told there was about a 50/50 chance that it was either a madly aggressive and lethal cancer, which would kill her in short order no matter what, or a totally benign growth that could be cured by just taking it out. But if we didn't take it out, it would eventually explode. Which would be a sudden, scary, awful thing.
We couldn't know whether she'd make it through surgery, or whether it would really help her in the end. But I feel pretty confident, that if there were some different kind of emergency, and it came down to life or death for me or my family and E could decide? She'd defend us with all she had.
So we sent her in. Her heart wasn't beating properly, and medicine didn't help it. But we decided to go ahead anyways. Amazingly, she made it through. A ten pound tumor was removed, she spent the afternoon recovering with her IV, and though she was wasted on whatever was in that cocktail, she drunkenly walked out of the hospital, and we brought her home.
She seemed to be getting better. She wasn't eating, but she drank some water, cuddled and nuzzled us, and refused to pee anywherebut the greenbelt down the street. So we walked.
Missy drew her a "most specialist pictuh evah ba-cuase I love her to im-PIN-ity- and that's the muchest". Little One read stories and sang to her. Even Mister understood she wasn't well, and pet her gently, calling her name softly.
J came home from a night shift, and I'd just taken E on a trip down the street and back. He was laying with her while I cooked. The Sisters went to play at a neighbors house. I've never let them do that before. But today they were gone, just at the time J came running out of the bedroom, calling me. There wasn't time to even dial the vet. She started to breathe quickly, she kind of spaced out, and then...she stopped breathing altogether.
And now she's gone.
I'm so awfully sorry that she didn't have a chance to recover and feel better, even for a day. That she was drugged up and had staples from her chest to her tail and never understood why we did that to her. As her Person, I feel responsible for everything that lead to that moment, and for everything I could have done better for her in the last 9 years.
I think it's cruelty of fate for a little girl to lose Her dog two days before starting a new school. I'm sorry for X who will miss his friend. I miss the security of letting the Sisters play in the yard while I work, knowing E would be kind to them and alert me if any danger came near. I miss the certainty of a cuddle and a greeting every time I looked her way.
But I'm glad that it wasn't as painful as it could have been. I'm glad she was home, with her People right beside her. I like to think that confused as she must have been, perhaps she knew we were trying to help, and that we loved her.
Which we did.
And we do.
She loooooved snow
The volunteer shrugged and led us to a visiting room, and dumped the lot out onto the floor. J and I played with them tried to comfort them, and then we went home. We continued our search throughout just about every shelter and adoption event in the state. Somehow we never found the right furry friend. And somehow, we kept talking about those puppies. Somehow, even though we had agreed not to choose a puppy- we ended up back in the same room, with the same puppies- the four left now that they had been made available for adoption.
They were all cute and full of personality.
Except one.
One didn't play and yip and nip and wiggle. It didn't chase a toy or tackle our faces or chew our toes. It just cowered. It wasn't cute, either. The runt of the litter, it was all black and had a body too small for it's head, which was too small for its ears, leaving it looking more like a bat than a canine. It was painfully skinny and bony, mangy and scraggly with goopy eyes. It had little scars and bald patches from being picked on by it's brothers and sisters. It shivered by the door as J and I wrestled the tumbling roly-poly rest of them, and then slowly, quietly, so we didn't even notice, crept up, crawled into my lap, curled up, and sighed.
Oh my goodness. J could tell by my face in that instant that resistance was futile. She crawled into my heart the same time she crept into my lap.
E ended up in the shelter because her litter had been a "welfare seizure"- meaning they were forcibly removed from their first owner due to abuse. Between that and being the bullied runt, she came with all kinds of problems. Medical problems (mange, worms, mites, infections). And psychological problems- terror at loud sounds, strangers, or long objects (brooms, mops, spatulas). |
| Refusing to go either up or down |
The vacuum cleaner was the actual devil as far as she was concerned. She would yelp and hightail it to what became her bunker- the exact center spot under our bed. A passing motorcycle could send her there for the rest of the day.
She was hard to train because she couldn't stand raised voices or crates. And you try getting a stubborn dog out from under a queen sized bed- it's like wrestling a rabid chimp while spelunking in a cave tunnel.
She had food issues to the extreme. If I set out a full bag of dog food, she'd have eaten her way to the bottom until she actually exploded. We know this because she has eaten herself into violent illness every chance she's ever had. She'd inhale, engulf her food. And she would eat anything. We'd let her out to pee and find her tunneling into the compost pile, refusing to give up a half-rotten banana peel.
This got her sick all the time. E throwing up became as normal as a colicky baby's spit-up- there was always something. Once a neighbor threw chicken bones to her over the fence.
That ended in a week-long veterinary hospital vacay to the tune of a couple thousand dollars.She got car sick. She hated to get wet. She was afraid of dogs, squirrels, big rocks, steep hills, puddles, and everything else ever.
As she grew older, she drove us to insanity by growling at everyone who entered/walked by/drove by/made any audible sound from any distance. At 45 pounds, looking like a sleek black german shepherd, she scared the bejeezus out of I don't know how many people. Once she followed my grandpa around the house nipping his heels. She always waited until no one was looking. Poor guy had some dementia by then, and no one believed him for days until she got caught.
 |
| "Look at me I'm all friendly and harmless. Those feet look tasty though." |
We sent her away to a trainer for weeks. Not much changed, except our bank account.
But we loved her all the same.
Though we wanted a companion for X, he turned out to hate the idea. The first thing he did when he met E was to bite her soundly on the nose. Despite that, she adored him so constantly and gently that he finally gave in, and the dog who hates dogs would curl up to her to sleep at night.
E surprised us by becoming the quintessential loyal companion to all of our littles. She'd fiercely guard and protect them from all real and imaginary threats. She'd plays with them tirelessly, and was always, always there to snuggle. Ever since Little One was small, I'd look over in the yard and see Her draped over E like a blanket, suffocating her probably. Singing. E would just lie there like it was the best day of her life, wagging her tail.
She's raised her hocks at every stranger, but never growled or snapped at our babies, no matter what. She's patiently let them climb on her, dress her up, "wash" her, lead her around, tug on her ears, brush her, wrestle her, and take her toys. I once was two steps too far away to stop Mister as He went up to her during her dinner, and curiously reached his arm inside her mouth- while she was chewing- and pulled out some of her food. She just looked at Him, licked His hand, and went on with her kibble. 
She would never run away. When we'd walk she kept her pace just at my heel. She would do anything asked of her as long as she understood. After nine years of being loved by us (even if she did drive J and I crazy half the time), she settled into being a really sweet, loyal dog. To us. To extended family, she finally got friendly, too. To strangers, She would threaten death until J or I told her to back off. Which frankly I was ok with. No one was going to abduct my Littles from the backyard while I get the laundry. And she never, ever stopped loving to curl up in my lap. It was her most favorite thing. Except food.Which is how we knew something was wrong.
It was actually Little One who knew first."Mom, sompin's not right with E. Her tail's not right and her ears are all down. I think she's sick."
Little One and E have been best friends since day one. They've spent the summer playing pirates digging for treasure together, being explorers racing around the yard, thieves stealing J's tomatoes for snacks, fairies learning how to fly. (In fact I took her to the vet covered in glitter.)
Little One knows E like no one else.
After Little One's tip, I watched E closely. She was acting droopy. And, despite the fact that she'd been getting fat and the Littles had been getting scolded for feeding the dogs a lot when they weren't supposed to- she wasn't really eating much of anything. X was eating her leftovers, and she hardly touched her bowl.
The more I thought about it, the more she didn't look fat, just weirdly heavy in the belly. When my mom came, she agreed. She urged me to take her in. Knowing E, I assumed she'd eaten something she shouldn't have. The Sisters came with me, and I joked, "how much will it cost us to fix you up this time, silly girl?" But it wasn't that.
It was a tumor. The size of a small watermelon. It was taking up her entire abdomen, squeezing her organs aside. It was so big, it took a radiology specialist to ultrasound around it and find out where it was even coming from. It was her spleen. Apparently that happens, in dogs. Sometimes.
 |
| All that white fuzzy stuff is her tumor |
We couldn't know whether she'd make it through surgery, or whether it would really help her in the end. But I feel pretty confident, that if there were some different kind of emergency, and it came down to life or death for me or my family and E could decide? She'd defend us with all she had.
So we sent her in. Her heart wasn't beating properly, and medicine didn't help it. But we decided to go ahead anyways. Amazingly, she made it through. A ten pound tumor was removed, she spent the afternoon recovering with her IV, and though she was wasted on whatever was in that cocktail, she drunkenly walked out of the hospital, and we brought her home. She seemed to be getting better. She wasn't eating, but she drank some water, cuddled and nuzzled us, and refused to pee anywherebut the greenbelt down the street. So we walked.
Missy drew her a "most specialist pictuh evah ba-cuase I love her to im-PIN-ity- and that's the muchest". Little One read stories and sang to her. Even Mister understood she wasn't well, and pet her gently, calling her name softly.
J came home from a night shift, and I'd just taken E on a trip down the street and back. He was laying with her while I cooked. The Sisters went to play at a neighbors house. I've never let them do that before. But today they were gone, just at the time J came running out of the bedroom, calling me. There wasn't time to even dial the vet. She started to breathe quickly, she kind of spaced out, and then...she stopped breathing altogether.
And now she's gone.
I'm so awfully sorry that she didn't have a chance to recover and feel better, even for a day. That she was drugged up and had staples from her chest to her tail and never understood why we did that to her. As her Person, I feel responsible for everything that lead to that moment, and for everything I could have done better for her in the last 9 years.
I think it's cruelty of fate for a little girl to lose Her dog two days before starting a new school. I'm sorry for X who will miss his friend. I miss the security of letting the Sisters play in the yard while I work, knowing E would be kind to them and alert me if any danger came near. I miss the certainty of a cuddle and a greeting every time I looked her way.
But I'm glad that it wasn't as painful as it could have been. I'm glad she was home, with her People right beside her. I like to think that confused as she must have been, perhaps she knew we were trying to help, and that we loved her.
Which we did.
And we do.
 |
| Meeting Little One the day She came home |
 |
| Helping LO learn to crawl |
 |
| Helping Her learn to walk |
 |
| Meeting Little Miss the day She came home |
 |
| Partners in crime |
She loooooved snow
 |
| All 3 too happy to get in trouble |
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