Sunday, November 2, 2008

A Death in the Family


Almost 9 years ago Matt and I decided to get a dog. Well, it really wasn't as cut and dry as all that; we were actually gently conned into getting a dog by one of my friends and coworker, Tara, who had gone to the pound for a service project. She found the sweetest little female mutt and took her to the nursing home for the day; everyone there loved her and Tara fell in love with her too. She loved her so much that she even took her home to meet her beagle, but her beagle was not too keen on the newcomer so Tara took her back to the pound. She came into work the next day full of love for this dog, bound and determined to find her an owner. On our lunch break a week later she dragged me to the pound and the rest, shall we say, was Timbs family history.
I wish that I could say that the first moment I saw her I fell in love with her, but that is not really the case. She looked a little ragged around the edges. The pound said that she had just had puppies...in fact, one had come in with her but had already been adopted. She really was a mutt....The Good Lord only knew what genetic material this dog was composed of. But she was sweet and calm, which went a long way with me. I was not into yip-yips and hate it when dogs are all crazy and jumpy. I brought Matt in to see her and we decided just to go for it...You only live once, right?
We adopted her and they immediately sent her to a local vet to be spayed. I had a crazy job where I was out of the office most of the time and did not receive the frantic calls from the vet the day of her surgery....It turns out that she was pregnant and that when they went in to spay her they were really performing an emergency C-section. At the end of the day when I got these messages I completely flipped out. I knew that we could not have more than one dog in our apartment and I felt lied to by the pound....She had not already had puppies....They were in her tummy and had not made it to the world yet! The vet ended up saving the puppies and keeping them at the office. Various people adopted two of them and one lived (and may still be living) at the vet's..He became their mascot.
We get this poor dog home who has just had a horrific month....Too much pound, too much puppy trauma, etc. But after the first couple of days she shaped up to be an incredible dog. So sweet and loving. Very calm. Very good. And already house trained, which was a huge bonus and pleasant surprise. We decided to name her Ivy. I have no recollection of where we came up with this name or even who thought of the name first; for some reason it seemed to fit her and we loved it.
Ivy dog was precious to us. We loved coming home from work and spending time with her. We loved cuddling with her after a long day and taking her for walks in the park beside our house. She was practice....something to be responsible about and to before we took the plunge of having real babies to take care of. And when it was time to take the plunge into realy baby world, for some reason we thought that we would still love Ivy the same and that Ivy would love the new baby as well! But it really didn't turn out that way.......
Ivy did not like the new baby at all. She always acted slightly disgusted around him; he had infringed on her territory I guess. And then several years later when baby number two arrived it really sent her over the edge. She was still the same sweet loving dog, but she did a lot of things to let us know her displeasure over the children. Lots of sighing. Lots of whining. And lots of peeing in the house, which she had never done before.
I guess that after having kids my views changed a lot on Ivy as well. I still loved her and knew that she was a rare jewel among dogs, but I realized that back when I thought I loved her like a baby, I really did not. The love for the dog paled in comparison to these little precious people I had birthed. Maybe Ivy sensed that as well, she knew that she had been demoted in our hearts.
Last Saturday we had to put Ivy dog to sleep. It was a horrible time, and a hard time for our family. We didn't want to do it, but who does? We knew that she was not going to get better...we had been treating her for a fungus for over 4 months and nothing had helped. She was old and her immune system was not fighting the disease. She was miserable and suffering.
I think that one of the hardest moments of life is when you have to say a final goodbye. To pet and human alike. Knowing that you won't ever talk to that person again, or see someone gesture, or catch a smile on their lips as you glance at them. Or knowing that you won't hear that long suffering sigh when a three-year-old pulls a tail, you won't hear whining to go outside, and you won't be cleaning up pee off the rug. Goodbye Ivy dog. It was a great 9 years.

1 comment:

beckygiggles said...

I teared up. You did a great job on this. I'm still a little choked up. I remember before Caleb when Ivy would try to smell my lips because she like the Clinique.