|
I REMEMBER by Teresa Brewer
I remember when he was born. It was a crisp March morning that promised spring would be upon us soon. We'd just gotten to work when we found her -- a Beagle with terribly sprung ribs and eight precious little ones. He was still wet when he caught my eye: a robust little boy, with little flap ears and a sprinkling of white hairs on each tiny paw and at the tip of his tail. I remember the stuffed tiger I gave him as his first toy. It was about his size, a cheap little carnival favour, but it was something he could snuggle with when he missed his momma and siblings. I didn't know I was setting a precedent. He wouldn't play with just any stuffed toy after that -- it had to be a tiger. I remember when he woke me up in the middle of the night for the first time. He was in such a hurry to get outside that he didn't wait for me and started down the stairs on his own. In his rush he went down the last few steps bouncing on his front feet as his rump balanced precariously overhead. I'm not sure how he kept from toppling over. We were so close - but the cold tile in front of the door was too much, and he didn't make it outside. It was the first time I praised a puppy for having an accident in the house -- he was trying so hard!
I remember the moment I realized he wasn't going to be a small dog. He was 3 months old, and already bigger than his mother had been. We scheduled obedience lessons and passed with flying colours. Everyone thought he was beautiful, and no one ever guessed what he was! From his spotted tongue and full double coat, we guessed his daddy was at least part Chow Chow. My father dubbed him a "Cheagle," and he grew to a gorgeous seventy pound dog. I remember the first time he decided to investigate one of those pesky black "cats" with that peculiar white stripe down the back. A friend was over and we were watching a movie. There was a scuffle on the front porch. He must've gotten sprayed point-blank, because you could see the mist on his face. The stench was so strong it nearly gagged me when I opened the door. His eyes were watering, and he was foaming at the mouth as he tried to spit out the taste. Yes, a friend will help you take care of your animals. But a true friend will join you in a mad dash to Wal-Mart to get a cart full of tomato juice, then help you bathe your dog outside at midnight... in March! I remember another time he woke me in the middle of the night. He was barking like crazy and charging into the side of my bed, literally jarring me awake. I was so disoriented. I started to get angry. He was five now and didn't have to go out in the middle of the night anymore and I was so tired. I just wanted to go back to sleep. He wouldn't let me. He practically herded me into the hallway. Halfway to the kitchen I realized I couldn't feel my hands or feet. A single, frightened, coherent thought registered and I fumbled with my sugar meter. Newly diagnosed with diabetes, I was still learning the ropes of this dangerous disease. After a glass of juice, I was finally able to get my test strips open. My sugar was so low my meter didn't register a number. I should have called 9-1-1, but wasn't thinking clearly enough to realize it. After a couple more glasses of juice and a peanut butter sandwich, I was starting to feel better and wondered where he was. I still thought he had to go potty. I found him curled up asleep by my nightstand. He'd done what he had intended. It was the first of many times he alerted me to low blood sugar reactions. I remember the sadness when I realized he was starting to show his age. He was nine and the few white hairs sprinkling his toes and tip of his tail were joined by many more. What joy when we found a good senior formula dog food and a quality joint supplement! The spring in his step came back, and the combination let us outrun Father Time for five more years. I remember the morning I watched in horror as he nearly fell. He couldn't climb the four steps onto the deck anymore. Father Time's slow steady march was catching up to us. I fashioned a ramp out of a few 2 x 10s and covered it with leftover shingles for traction. He didn't like the ramp at first, but quickly got used to it. A trip to the vet the following weekend got us a prescription for some arthritis medication, and we bartered a few more slow but comfortable years. I remember the moment I knew it was time. It felt like someone had ripped out my heart, but I knew what I had to do. He'd given me too much joy to let him suffer. I called my mother for help because I knew I couldn't lift him into my truck by myself, not without hurting him. My mother offered to drive because she knew I wouldn't be able to see the road through my tears. A midnight trip to the ER Clinic brought him peace. I'd forgotten how much it hurts to say goodbye.
-- Teresa Brewer <tlbrewer at prodigy.net>
______________________________________________________________________________ Teresa says: "This is a tribute to my dog, Bear, who I had to euthanize right before Memorial Weekend. He wasn't my first, or only, dog, but he certainly was my 'fur angel.' When I spoke with my doctor following the low blood sugar episode, I was told he had literally saved my life. We celebrated Bear's 16th birthday in March. My Rottie, Sasha, stood watch over him when I called my mother that final night, and carries his tiger around whenever she's lonely. Feel free to contact me if you would like further info." ________________________________________________________________________________
|
|
|
Copyright 2001-2010 by TheDailyMews.com. All rights reserved.
Hosted by http://www.supanames.co.uk |
