In August of 2010, we went as a family to a local animal shelter. We came home with an 8-week-old brown puppy we named Chloe.
On June 16, 2023, just four days after her 13th
birthday, we went with her to the
vet one last time to say our goodbyes.
She was more than a dog to us. She was our protector. Our
travel companion. Our constant shadow. Our floor cleaner. The greeter when we
walked in the door. And a friend who knew exactly when you needed a cuddle, an
encouraging lick, or a ball dropped at your feet.
Her fur may have turned grey, but for 12 years she was a
ball of energy that could still run with the puppy next door. Then in August of
2022, we found a tumor in her mouth that the vet diagnosed as melanoma.
This is a fast-moving cancer, she advised us. She probably
only had weeks or months left.
But being the dog she was, she defied the odds.
The tumor was removed, and follow-up visits showed no sign
of it returning. Her blood work was excellent. We thought we had dodged a
bullet. Perhaps she was in total remission or the diagnosis was wrong.
Yet little signs started creeping in that her age was
catching up with her. She moved a bit slower, had some difficulty getting up,
and went on some medication for joint pain. Her hearing greatly diminished. And
she lost some interest in the toys she so loved.
In late April of this year, we found another tumor in the
exact same spot. The vet removed it and was confident she got all of it. But on
a follow-up visit only three weeks later, the tumor was already growing back.
Then the bleeding started. Just spotting at first, and we
thought it was from the tumor site as it was still healing. One night, however,
she had a bad nosebleed. Another followed a few days later. She now had a tumor
in her nasal cavity.
A Chinese herb recommended by the vet helped slow the
bleeding. For about three weeks, she had relatively minor episodes. But on the
night of June 15th, she had a major bleed that lasted at least 30
minutes.
She was panicking and kept shaking her head to clear her
nose, which kept the bleeding from clotting. All four of us were covered with
blood trying to get her to calm down enough to slow the bleeding. We finally
did after about five towels and copious amounts of blood on the floor, walls,
and ourselves.
We also found out that night the emergency vet clinic in our
area had closed. The closest one was 40 minutes away.
What happens next time if we truly cannot stop the bleeding?
She may not survive a 40-minute drive to a clinic. That night, we decided we
cannot put her or ourselves through this anymore. In the morning, I called the vet
and made an appointment to bring her in that afternoon.
That morning, we all rearranged our schedules to spend her
last day spoiling her. We gave her more treats than we could count. She had one
last doggie sundae. We took her on a final walk through the neighborhood she
loved and protected. We gave her all the pats, hugs, and love a great doggy
deserves.
At 3:00 PM, we all walked into the vet's office with her one
last time.
She was never fond of the veterinarian and was shaking at
first. But we surrounded her, petted her, and talked to her until she calmed
down. We gave her Hershey Kisses from a jar the vet tech gave us labeled “goodbye
kisses.”
When the time came for her to go, we told her what a good doggy she was, how
much we love and will miss her, and how we would never forget her. She went
peacefully, taking a part of each of our hearts with her.
A few days have passed since that sad Friday. Her ashes have
been returned to us and will be buried in our backyard when her memorial marker
arrives. Her dog bed, food dish, and toys have been put away since it was too
painful to look at them.
Leftover dog food and treats have been distributed to
neighbors with dogs who express their sadness at her passing. Although I
suspect they will not miss her barking at them.
Her leftover medication has been packed up and will be given
to a local no-kill shelter. And the emptiness left behind without her presence is
sometimes more than I can bear. My first walk without her was unbelievably
hard, especially when a neighbor asked where she was. I barely held it together
as I told her Chloe has passed.
Still, I know she is not really gone. When we lose a pet, they take
a piece of our hearts with them. But the memory of the love they left behind
fills that void in our hearts. And that love will never leave us for as long as
we live.
Thank you, Chloe, for keeping our yard safe from squirrels,
birds, moles, chipmunks, and anything else you could chase and sometimes catch.
Thank you for protecting us from anyone who approached our fence, even if it
was neighbors you saw hundreds of times.
Thank you for never leaving food on the floor long enough
for us to enact the five-second rule. Thank you for the exercise, the
enthusiastic greetings when we came home, and all those moments you somehow
knew we just needed you close by. Thank you for the wonderful memories of the
time spent with the world’s best dog.
Most of all, thank you for the love, the devotion, and for being
our beloved doggy.
Rest in peace, sweet girl. We will love you always.