On Pets and Dying

My friend Stiffa lost her kitty of 13 years today, and it made me think about the 2 dogs I have been forced to "help" go to a better place. My first dog, Ce-Ce, was a Miniature Schnauzer, and the feistiest thing on 4 legs. I got him as a birthday present from my parents when I was 3. His self-appointed job was to be my protector - even when he didn't know what he was protecting me from. He took on a full-sized Doberman that ran up to attack me while I played in my front yard, he sat outside my bedroom door when I had the chicken pox (because dogs can get it too, so I was quarantined from EVERYONE), he tried to bite my mom when she was tending wounds I got from falling off a horse and I was crying. He ended up having congestive heart failure, and we put him to sleep the day after Christmas, 1986. I was a senior in high school, he was 15 years old.

My second dog was Ben, a Golden Retriever. I got him while I was in college, when I could barely afford to feed myself, let alone a dog. But there was no question when he came into my life that I would keep him forever. He helped pick my boyfriends (he hated one guy I dated so much, he did everything he could to keep us apart - sitting in front of the TV, squeezing between us when we sat together on the couch, etc.) He stayed with my parents when I had to move to a place where I couldn't have dogs. He adored the Bohunk when I met him, which was one of the many reasons I've kept him around this long. ;-) He even helped care for the Boy when he was a baby, keeping watch over him when my back was turned, and "cleaning" his face. Ben got colon cancer and we put him to sleep 2 weeks after his 14th birthday, 2 years ago.

Stiffa had mentioned how she grew up on a farm and basically made fun of people who went off the deep end over their pets, because farm animals are "outside" animals, and are treated differently than most well-cared for housepets. Unfortunately, she's learning what I have always known - a dog or cat that sleeps with you every night and hogs the whole bed, the one that barfs on the floor and hides because he thought he'd done something wrong, the one that sheds everywhere, the one that jumps up and puts a hole in your brand-new pantyhose, sits by and licks your face when you are sick, listens while you vent about whatever, and loves you unconditionally - that dog or cat becomes a member of your family and an irrevocable part of your heart. Loving them as fiercely as we do, and doing anything to make sure that they are healthy makes it more likely that we will have to watch them grow old and waste away leaving us to decide when they die - as opposed to them crawling off by themselves and dying alone, like they did in the wild. Having to decide to let them go is heartbreaking.

I do know that when I die, I will see my Ben-dog and my Ce-Ce again - they'll meet me when I come, tails wagging. Brodie will be there to meet Stiffa, too, one day.