My beloved dog and I celebrated ten years together on July 3rd, and as our neighborhood went up in fireworks and she seemed unimpressed, I didn't know if perhaps her hearing had dimmed to that point, or if she was tired, or maybe just feeling secure as we stayed closed in the bedroom. My dog had developed cataracts, one was much worse than the other. Sometimes she seemed a bit confused about which way we were going. She would have been 15 years old in 60 days.
She had recently been vaccinated again for rabies, which I didn't want to do because of her age and fragility, but it was to make her legal. I will wear her dog tag.
I made her doggie clothes, crocheted sweaters for her and sewed some too. She has left behind a nice wardrobe. I don't think I'll go on a give away frenzy.
She had her good days and her not so good, and because it has been hot out, I was laying low with her, not forcing walks, though I had taken her to parks three times in the last two weeks where she got to sleep for a couple hours on the grass and in the shade. (We have shade but no grass where we live.) She seemed relatively adventurous walking on the grass and sniffing, happy, and so when she got too tired I popped her in her carrier.
I had been putting in a lot of time at the library the last couple days, back into some personal genealogy research. And around three or four in the afternoon yesterday after several hours of researching, I thought to call it a day and go home. I had been concerned about her. But I had been using a computer and a scanner and was making progress. I thought that I would be off today, Friday, and needed to put the time in.
photo copyright Magyar American BlogSpot C 2012-2022
My precious Maltese Poodle who has died.
Please do not pin or copy my personal photo.
Over the last couple months I had wanted to spend more quality time with her and maybe I was a little psychic knowing that every moment now was especially precious. But I did not go home when I thought to. My dog was not waiting for me by the indoor gate. She usually does, but not always. It went through my head, "I hope she's not dead." I just thought it was somehow too quiet. But as soon as I saw her, I knew she was. I knew it had to be after quarter to ten when I left. And I think she might have even died when I was thinking to go home or as I was going home.In the morning I had woken her up. She had walked a little on grass and cement, sniffed and was sniffed by a male dog, she ate well, she peed, and she went back into her comfortable dog bed. I had been primed to think that if a dog was eating well they were not sick but I knew that she had multiple senior dog issues.
I don't know if it would have made any difference if I had been home. If I would have noticed. If there was any sound. But I believe her heart gave out while she was asleep or resting in that bed. It was over quick, hopefully. She died with her eyes shut, and simply passed to heaven. Where I had recently told her that I hoped she would wait for me.
Did she understand that?
Before I left, as I got ready for the day, I had petted her head and belly and told her I loved her three different times and as I left I said, "OK now, be a good girl." I had bathed her twice in the last week, finding fleas. I had just cut out a couple knots in her hair that had formed. I had put medication on an area of her skin that had developed a cyst: this had happened before and I expected it to pop. So she looked clean and groomed as she lay there. Her mouth appeared closed but there was a lot of sputum - bubbled but not warm when I cleaned it up and maybe if it were not there.
She was still sniffing when I took her to parks, she was still eating well, she had many signs of aging, yet I felt there was more time.
She was sometimes itching and going at it until she was panting. It seemed that even one flea bite could cause this and that it was seasonal. I would scold her - though full of compassion - and hold her to stop that itching - that mania. I have several spider bites on tender places myself so I was not sure she had not also been bitten. I feared giving her the flea poison on the skin or by shot, because it effects all organs and for the same reason that I did not want to give her another rabies vaccine. Or she would feel a bit too hot to the touch. Again in summer. Sometimes I would put a cool wet cloth against her belly, which rapidly seemed to solve the problem. I'd avoided flea shots and poisons also feeling it would be too much for her. Over the last few days of the holiday I'd stayed home and I noted that she seemed a bit more sluggish. Was it age or summer? I didn't think she was in constant, chronic, or difficult pain. Rather she seemed a bit more blind, addled, and not able to follow me as much as she had.
Of course I can beat me myself up over what all I might have done better but it is too late. And now I do not have to ponder the horrible question of when to put a dog down. She would have been fifteen in September and lived past the point in which most maltese-poodles live. (Some say 12, recently I heard 14.) It could have been much worse.
But as I write this in the middle of the night, she, on her bed, is wrapped in plastic bags, new white plastic (I could not deal with the idea of putting her in a black garbage bag for she was never garbage. I did not attempt to wrap close to her body, though later I read I should. I noticed she was in rigor mortis when I found her but a couple hours later her tail, which had been down around her backside, was sticking strait up, so the process was continuing. It is quite possible she actually died while I was walking home or even when I thought to leave the library. (I'm feeling bad that maybe I could have been there.) Indeed, a little research indicates that when I found her, she had not cooled yet. A clue, my friends, is that once the body cools any opportunistic fleas will want to leave.
I had one of those big white cardboard file boxes, white, newish, and full of crochet supplies. I put her in the there, still on her bed. That she died on that bed made it all easier for me. The strange thing to me is that she felt so heavy.
I have to sit outside with her until she is picked up tomorrow morning and cannot sleep. I hope they will take her away in the box as is. I believe they take dead animals to a crematorium. It is illegal to bury your own dog here in the city, though some people do. I could not put her out where night animals might find her and as for insects there are far fewer in here.
I love my dog. I may not have been the best doggie mamma, but she has been so much part of my life, I can only anticipate feeling lonely and alone without her interaction. I often talked to her about my human problems. Such as in the morning I myself had woken up with a pain in my hip and something I ate the night before did not sit well with me. The pain in my hip was unusual and I wanted to walk it out. I had at one point that morning put her on my belly as I lay in bed and stroked her.
I anticipate forgetting that she has gone and feeling strange walking down the street without her. People have suggested to me that now I will feel freedom and I can say that this is NOT what I want to feel. Don't I want to travel? How could I leave her behind, even with excellent care? Well, perhaps someone out there will understand that what was on my mind was how I might be able to travel with her.
She went through a lot with me. After learning about her life before me, I vowed to be her forever home - I was. When I adopted her she had been pulled from a kennel where she had been for 10 days, and was on death row. She got an extra decade with me. People point that out to me, I know they mean well, but I only think of how I might have been a better doggie parent, and as for another dog in the future, that is quite possibly not possible.
Here were what I thought of as the good things about me.
She no longer had to compete for attention, roam to find food, endure more pregnancies in which her pups were sold, go without being bathed or groomed (though I did not do well with her teeth, having never known people with dogs growing up who got doggie dentistry. Early on I had tried to brush her teeth but she would not let me. At the time also the vet had told me that dry food was better for a dogs teeth. I am not sure this is true.) I upped her food, varied it, over the last year she had been getting more wet food and her last meal included a prepared roasted chicken and dry kibble for small dogs. I cut her nails myself, when I learned how she feared that when even professionals did their best. And I tried to take her with me at least twice a week just to vary her routine, get her out of the house, and have adventures with her. Just recently I had taken her to a park where she walked about an eighth mile, smiling and sniffing sturdy old trees that had been from Australia. She liked her carrier and to sleep in it.
Younger, she was more social with strangers and other dogs: she was not the leader of the pack. She showed athletic ability and even show qualities but her previous owners had not trained her any commands. (This is typical of breeders.) I had tried but gave up and not in frustration. My dog had gotten it that it was a game that we played in the house but not outside. I hadn't gotten a dog to do tricks or obey me constantly. Instead I thought she was intuitive and compassionate.
We went to grassy parks, the beach, and for about a year a particular a nature reserve, as well as a garden full of herbal smells, to walk when she was still walking well, over the last few years. I held her up to see the ocean and said "fishy," I took her to see sea lions and seals at an animal hospital. She was fascinated as she heard them bark and as she watched them dive but mimed that she wanted to eat them. She liked the smells at a marina we went to a few times. She liked to eat salmon and tuna so once in a while I gave her some. She went on a light house tour with me and, knowing it was special, went up every step with people, smiling the whole time.
She could laugh and had a sense of humor. One time I looked at her and I said, "Who is boss? You or mummy? Who picks up whose poo? Who goes out hunting for food and treats? And she just laughed. She was capable of smiling and laughing was when her shoulders went up and down.
She dreamed of getting a squirrel - eating one. She got close but never did. For a while we went to sit where there were many ground squirrels. I would put out some peanuts and she would understand what I was doing. She was also crazy for moles, willing to dig. Never got one. As for cats, she either gave chase or there was mutual tolerance.
She went with me to a coffee house where there were a couple snide employees; but one day she was one of three dogs inside, including one owned by a millionaire and what could they say them? Mostly we sat outside, but certain personalities still gave me a bit of a hard time about her. I began to feel bad that she wore a collar and leash so I stopped using short leashes and hard ones as our pacing diminished.
In her carrier I rushed with her in and out of stores, libraries, and on buses. Though I had one of the best carriers ever, there were a couple situations in which be it my fault or not, it was too wild a ride, or the carrier flipped over with her in it or it rolled. (In case anyone is wondering, after going into stores to test various carriers that were all over the place, I got a Gen7carrier, one of the more expensive.
I found that it was better I do that then tie her up outside. It is illegal to leave a dog in a parked car here, though some people do, because of the heat. Sometimes someone would give me grief about leaving her tied up outside, but that was the bug-a-boo because only service animals are allowed inside. So in order to do errands, with a plan to also include a walk or another doggie friendly destination, you have to either tie up or take in.
My dog wasn't doing anything especially frightening. What is someone doing riding a bike or skateboarding through tables in front of a coffee house anyway? That is inappropriate and frightened her so she would give one warning bark which was for her and me. But that one warning bark was interpreted as a threat. She never bit anyone. I doubt she would. She also gave warning barks to dogs who got a little too rough with her in play.
She had many a fan too. Some of them were male dogs. Some were male humans. Some were just dogs or humans of any variety. Many a child asked if they could pet her. One boy who was afraid of dogs learned not to be because of my dog. Despite her age people still thought she was a puppy.
One time some Muslim children decided that though they could not touch her, they could feed her. She went along with it as they held some long herbal leaf their mother had in the kitchen out to her mouth as you would a horse. She smiled and almost pantomimed munching.
I could go on and on about my beloved dog. The days ahead I will not be blessed with her.
A few weeks ago when my friends went out of town for three days I was sitting their dog and mine together. At one point I noticed that both dogs, together, were looking up, and I do believe a spirit was visiting the house, if not them. Now my dog had the cataracts and one eye was significantly worse than the other. They were not looking towards a window. The house was built in 1933 and has had several owners including the people who had it built for them, supposedly to look like the house she had left behind in Europe. I don't know that the house has a resident spirit. I can't say that I sense anything oppressive or negative. However, when this happened I did wonder and hope not that the spirit was there about me. When you have a dog that is clearly aging, and thoughts about how long it might have go through your mind, well. Both dogs were looking into the air, so perhaps this spirit was only showing them some love.
I do hope the angel for dogs was there for her when I was not.
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