Dee Dog

Last Friday Deeda and I had to choose to let our Dee dog go so she could take her place in heaven. Even though, there was no question it was time, I would consider it among the hardest things we’ve ever had to do.

Dee was our first child. A problem child, but our first child. Despite her somewhat unfavorable habits that became affectionately named “dumpster diving” and “jail breaks,” we loved her deeply and she loved us back with thousands of daily greetings, kisses and leg humping, of course.

Before G arrived, we were concerned about how she would react to becoming a big sister. She never disappointed. In fact, her patience was amazing. She, too, came to love G despite the fact he dethroned her. Likewise, G came to love her. The grief that came over him when I told him the news was heartbreaking, but heartwarming at the same time. While my own grief multiplied when I felt his too, I also felt proud of his ability to love so truly. And later, as we continued to discuss heaven and God, I was warmed by his questions about where “exactly” heaven is, how you get there and how many hands God must have to make all the animals and people in the world.
I literally watched Dee age over the last couple years and more so in the last few months as her geriatric problems multiplied. Guided by a wonderful vet we managed her medical problems as best we could with meds. But last Wednesday, she couldn’t get comfortable. By Thursday she wasn’t walking. Friday the vet seemed to think she had “thrown a clot” or essentially had a stroke. She wasn’t eating…

The house has been quiet. No knock at the back door. No clanking collar at the water bowl. No snoring. Man, she could bring the house down…

We’ve moved the trash can to the kitchen, but keep going to the laundry room with the garbage. I shut the gate before I get out of my car, just the same as I used to, and I am reminded there’s no dog waiting to escape or wagging her tail at the back door.

She is missed. There is a void. We’ve suffered a lot of family loss in just a few months… it’s never easy. But losing something that’s been a part of everyday is especially difficult. Dee was truly one of a kind. Our poo poo head.