One of my dogs died August 15th, and my heart broke. She had been in my life since she was 6 weeks old. This December she would have turned 14. She was a border collie/lab mix, with the intelligence of both and need for a job from both. Border Collies are known for their need to herd and steer creatures, to get them all in one location. Medusa was no different. She would herd our cats, she would tattle on them if they got on the counters, and if they got too close to us while we were eating, she would "gently" remind them to back the fuck up! She was also not subtle when it came to things she wanted. She had a perfect knack for looking at what she wanted, then looking at me, then back to the thing she wanted. If I did not respond to her request, she would poke me with her nose and make a grumble sound, as if to say, "your ignorance bores me."
As for her Lab side, she loved water, when she was younger and her hips were in better shape. We used to take her and our other two dogs to a lake near us and they would play for hours and sleep peacefully that night. When we finally moved into a house with a nice size back yard, Medusa would take so much delight in chasing the various moles and voles that invaded our yard. On several occasions she got one and ate it. What can I say, she was an animal, a carnivore, that is what they do.
When Medusa was a baby, we had taken her and her brother, Lucky, from a man who didn't take such good care of them and for the first year or so, Medusa did not want to be touched, nor did she want us near her. It took a lot of patience for her to understand we did not want to hurt her. Lucky, on the other hand, was a cuddle whore. When he was full grown, he weighed 93 pounds, and no, he was not over weight. He was just a big boy. He would give the best hugs, placing his on my chest, just under my chin, and lean in until I wrapped my arms around him and held him close to me. He died June 13, 2011. And that was the same time Medusa would no longer sleep in the bedroom where Melissa, Medusa, Lucky, and I shared. Medusa would sleep in the living room with our other two dogs Dori and Charley. But them something happened and she needed to be near me. So, to make Medusa more comfortable and help her sleep, we moved our king size bed into the living room where we slept for over a year. We did this because to us, Medusa was not just a dog, she was our child. We raised her to be the best possible dog, to be kind, to be loved.
Medusa was diagnosed with dementia. Melissa could never quite understand what that meant. She loved Medusa as much, if not more than me, and I think she could not wrap her mind around the fact that this dog, this strong, beautiful creature would ever be anything close to weak. But after Lucky died, something of Medusa went with him.
In July of 2010, a little puppy ran up to me while I was leaving for work. She came to be known as Dori, Dorpeyface, and Face. Lucky did not take to her, but Medusa did. It was strange how Medusa took Dori to raise. Dori learned everything from Medusa; how to wrangle the cats, how to tattle on them, how to ask for things she wants. Medusa would also scold Dori. And whenever Dori needed just to be close to Medusa, she would curl up near her and sleep. Dori feels Medusa's absence.
The night Medusa died, she couldn't get up. Until 8pm, she was able to get up and walk outside to potty, get water, food, readjust herself, albeit with some pain, but she was able to. When Melissa got home, Medusa could not get up. And after so many months watching Medusa have a harder and harder time with her hips, she finally stopped being able to stand up.
For people who not only have dogs (because anyone can have a dog or a pet and not feel that connection with them), but love their dogs, know and fully understand how gut wrenching it is to make the decision to help your dog out of pain. To anyone who thinks that decision is easy, then you never loved your dog. I couldn't go with Melissa when she took Medusa to the emergency vet. We actually waited three hours before making that decision to see if Medusa's pain pills would help her stand up again. She still wasn't able to use her hind legs when she got to the vet. Melissa said it was quick and Medusa didn't feel a thing.
The moment the door closed when Melissa and our friend Amanda left, I walked into the kitchen, grabbed my chest, and sobbed. My knees started to get weak and I walked into the living room and sat on the bed we moved especially for Medusa, and sobbed. Dori came and sat in front of me, worry in her eyes, confusion on her face, and just as Lucky used to, she put her head on my chest just under my chin, and let me wrap my arms around her and I cried until Melissa and Amanda got back.
I love Medusa even though she's gone. Everything in my life for the past 14 years was wrapped around her, Lucky, and our first dog together, Randi. We had the three of them their whole lives, until Dori came to us in 2010. Randi is the only one left out of our three original dogs. He turned 14 this month. Just as Medusa was my heart, Randi is Melissa's heart. I can't imagine losing him. He has gone blind but he gets around like BOSS! Never running into anything, and moves like a champ. Charley knows Randi is getting old and he challenges him constantly but that is the way of dogs.
Even though this process of having a dog is so difficult, I cannot imagine my life without one. They give something to me no other animal has given me. I feel connected to them on a spiritual level. I have never felt afraid with dogs. My mom used to tell me when I was young and saw a dog, I would just go up to it. I still do. I go to PetSmart and watch what we call, "Dog TV," the play area for the pets staying in the pet hotel.
Nothing else calms me the way a dog can. I love them, I care for them, and until I die, I will go through this process of growing with them, and letting them go. Because what I get from them is more profound then anything else in the whole world for me.
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