Digging Graves at Midnight

My girl died last night.  Sweet Madde.  She was my pretty princess.  

Fourteen years ago this past June, my boyfriend Bob and I went to the Humane Society to pick out a new puppy for me.  She was in the first kennel that I came to.  She was the first puppy that I held that day.  Gosh, she was so awkward looking.  She was tiny.  She could fit in my hand and her ears were bigger than the rest of her body and stood straight up.  There were about 5 or so other puppies in that room with her, but she was the last of her litter and the runt according to the volunteers there.  She looked like the runt of the whole pound, not just her litter,  and she stood in the far back right corner like she knew her place in the world.  She probably didn't have any hope.  At least she looked that way.  Puppy eyes.  Big, brown hopeless puppy eyes.  But with those eyes she saw me.  If you've ever picked out an animal from a shelter, you know what I mean by this.  Sometimes animals see you and you see them.  You just know that you were meant to be together.  I knew it with her.  It was love at first site.  Love.  I gave her hope.  I know I gave her hope because I put her down and continued through the whole puppy section holding every little baby there.  Then I worked my way back down the aisle holding them all a second time until I reached the beginning and came to her again.  This time though, she barked incessantly.  She was screaming at me.  "Hello!  It's me!  Don't screw up the ways of the world!  I was put here for you!  It's me!  I'm yours!"  So I picked her up and took her home.  From then on, she rode shotgun with me.  

I can't possibly begin to go through the ins and outs of our relationship or to document the adventures we shared.  We've had so many special moments.  But I'll just sum it up by saying that together, we've been to every corner of this country, floated down raging rivers,  held summer jobs, pissed off roommates, seen countless loves come and go, brought in many other animals, started the process of raising little boys, and dealt with sickness like no others could.  She has always been a trooper and lived a great life.  And she was always, always been free to roam.  The freedom wasn't probably the safest, but she was the kind of girl that needed wide open spaces and knowing that she had that comforts me today.

For the last couple of years, she has been slow going.  She didn't run anymore.  She never roamed off anymore.  And she went completely blind two years ago.  She never really seemed to mind though.  She stayed happy.  She had bad arthritis so in the past year especially, she spent a lot of time napping.  She spent so much time napping that for the  past 12 months, I've at some point in each day checked to see if she was still breathing.  The last two months have been especially trying for her.  It's also been tough on me.  She lost control of eliminating herself and that made for a ton of frustration.  I have had to clean up poop and pee messes at least 4 times a day  . . . and it was the terrible, terrible kind.  It got so bad, that I've had to put her in the garage every time I left even if it's just for 10 minutes.  And even that was an ordeal because she couldn't see to go around outside to the garage and her arthritis was too bad to walk down the stairs to get there, so I  had to carry her down the stairs every time.  And she wasn't a small dog by any means.  Talking to the vet, it seemed as if she was suffering from dementia too so we took her in a month ago to see if it "was time."  I had gone through forever thinking I could never make that sort of decision, but she seemed to be living such a half-ass life that I thought we should at least get a professional opinion.  Getting to the point of just going to see was an extremely hard day.  Jeff took her.  We had decided that if they thought it was a good idea, that we'd bring the boys in and we'd all say goodbye.  My 9 year old sat in my arms the whole time they were gone and we cried and cried.  Then Jeff showed back up with Madde and told us that the vet thought that she had two good years left in her. . . .he couldn't believe how happy and vibrant she still was.  But that was my girl.  Even throughout all of her suffering, she could always crack a smile.  She was so sweet.  Of course then I felt horrible!  I had never been able to do that and when I had finally come to "maybe" terms, I was told that it wasn't time!  So we both kept on.  We have both struggled for a while.  I've had countless friends tell me that I must really love her .. .. that's how difficult it has been.  But I couldn't imagine not having done it for her.  She had always been such a treasure for me.

And I have to think that I was her treasure too.  I had been gone for four days and she waited until I got home to say hello . . .or maybe goodbye . . . before she wandered off for one last romp on her own.  She didn't make it far.  I found her about three houses down resting in the neighbor's driveway.  It was terrible.  I was a pathetic mess.  I got so angry.  It just made me so mad.  The image of her sweet little body in the ground will be one that I will never be able to get out of my head.  I went to bed and dreamed that she wasn't really dead, but instead just resting like all of those other times that I thought she wasn't breathing, and she dug her way out of her grave.  But she was still under the dirt this morning.  And I'm still in bed this evening.  My heart aches.  I keep waiting for her to show up at the back door.  I know she's gone, but I just don't think I am ready to accept it.  I want her back.    

Madde, you were a gift.  You brought me more joy than you will ever know.  You were my first.  You were my other half.  I feel lost without you today.  But I know that you were tired.  And I want you to rest.  I will miss you pretty girl.  I love you.