What's Left Behind

 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 13^th birthday, we went with her to the
vet one last time to say our goodbyes.

She was a 10-pound ball of energy that grew into a 74-pound sweet yet often stubborn dog. There were times when she could be an absolute love bug. Other times, she would look at you like she would flip you off if she actually had the digits to do it.

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 15^th, 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.