Mayita pt 2

See Part 1.

Which is why, saying goodbye is so darn hard.

She hugged me that morning. She leaned in - hard - and relaxed in my arms. There was an urgency about it. I whispered that she would be okay, we would take care of her, I'd be home soon, but I had to go. I had to go. And the guilt of that moment...I left her when she begged me not to.

4 hours later I came home. She was falling over, disoriented and scared. My mind couldn't process what I was seeing. What was happening? You were fine this morning. Maybe not fine...but not like this. She ran past her food bowl - which was still full from the past 12 hours of not eating - and begged to go in the garage. The dog that hates the car, was ready to go.

The vet saw her wobble. Saw her fall. Saw her press her head so hard into the wall, and into my hand covering the wall. She lifted my sweet girl, put her in my car, and said 'go, go now'.

I drove as calmly as I could to the emergency neurologist. When hysteria rose up in me, I chastised myself loudly and kept driving. We arrived and she screamed. I got out and saw her, body contorted in the backseat - unable to control her movements. She looked into my eyes, and had her first seizure. I'm so sorry I couldn't help you. It was terrifying.

The tears came then, as they swooped in and carried my girl straight to the back. I called my husband who was already on his way - "it's bad" I choked out between sobs. What was happening?

After an initial consult we drove home, quietly, still in denial, waiting for the neurologist to call back and say "it's just an infection, here are some antibiotics, it's going to be okay". Those were long hours. It's going to be fine it's going to be fine she's going to be fine. The phone rings. Bone tumor. Pushing into her brain. She will not recover. You were supposed to be fine

Can we bring her home for one last night? This can't be happening. I held you in the car. I whispered in your ear the whole way. 

We made a floor bed for us all, covered with your favorite blankets and laid you down. We took turns laying with you and getting ourselves ready for bed. You couldn't walk anymore. Your eyes were so big, so scared, so terrified. We got you, baby girl, we're here. We talked to her all night. Told her about her adoption, our funniest stories, her mischievous moments, her skills as an escape artist, how much we loved her and we named every person we could think of that loved her too. We barely slept between our words and our tears.

We had hoped for more time. More hours. More minutes. But as the sun rose, 24 hours later, we looked into your eyes, and realized that you could no longer move. Our time was up.

Mayita pt1

If you didn't know I had a dog, then you're a stranger. Welcome.

In February of 2011, we got a puppy. We named her Maya - you can read about it here. http://shelle399.blogspot.com/2011/02/maya.html

This pup brought joy and laughter since even before she moved in. We were like a sitcom of don't-know-what-they're-doing-first-time-dads except this was a dog not a baby and I was extremely attached already. We probably broke every one of Cesar Millan's Dog whisperer rules, but we picked the best dog there was. And obviously the cutest. http://shelle399.blogspot.com/2011/03/you-know-you-own-dogpuppy-when.html

Life goes on, day by day, and you get into a new normal. A normal when you don't have to bend down to pick up food, you just say MAYA! and she comes running. When midnight bathroom trips are routine, your schedule revolves around making sure you're not gone for too long to let her outside or to eat, and you get suspicious when the house is silent for too long. When every song lyric gets changed to something silly about your dog and she has her own little "theme song" that only you know. There's a mutual celebration every time you walk through the door, with talking and barking and snuggling and running - and you forget that most people don't get this when they come home.

A normal when you're NEVER alone because there's always a furry companion underfoot to listen, to hug and cry with, to play and walk with, to sleep with.
Your pup becomes family. She shows you unconditional love. She shows you what it's like to be a master, a caretaker, a good and faithful steward of what life has been given into your hands to cultivate. http://shelle399.blogspot.com/2014/02/you-are-my-master-and-i-love-you.html

Your pup teaches you important life lessons. http://shelle399.blogspot.com/2014/08/fences.html And if you're lucky gives you a million sweet pictures and memories along the way.