I wanted to take a small area of my blog to share with you about a dog that was very special to my Mom. Her childhood dog, Chelsea.
Here are some writings Mom did about her beloved pet after Chelsea had to be put down. (Mom asks that please, no one copy, reuse or repost these writings anywhere else without her knowledge and permission. Thank you)
Loosing My Best Friend
“Good girl. Who’s a good puppy?” absentmindedly her tail flops once, signifying she knows it is her that is my precious baby. In the hall, my back against her favorite spot I sit with her head in my lap as I run my hands over her body. The soft thick fur feeling so silky slips under my fingers.
As I trace my hand over her side and tummy I feel not the young healthy body you would expect under all that fur. Each rib is a bump the size of a small rope, under her hind legs, a tennis ball, now almost the size of a soft ball, lump. The vet has said not to worry, it did not hurt her, but she was hurting now.
I keep my left hand on her head as I stroke her with my right. If I stop and take my hands away, she struggles to find me, attempting to lift her head, making sure I did not go far. I had next to me a children’s book, Bernstein Bears, one of my favorites growing up. I would lie with her for hours reading out loud all the stories in the series while brushing her or letting her lick my hand. I remember my family getting so grossed out.
Now I was reading to her but she just laid on me, she couldn’t give me kisses the whole time, but I knew she appreciated it.
It was a Monday. I had already called my dad at work twice. He was on his way home now. I told him she wouldn’t eat her food and I carried her out front to her spot but she could not stand so she just lay there as proud as could be keeping guard over her people and her home.
When I had brought her back in I made a bagel with butter. Ever since she had been a puppy and I only a toddler she had always fancied my breakfast. I had lost many a bagels to her. She would eat the little pieces I broke off and put in front of her. She tried to get excited, but having limited mobility it was a pathetic display. I knew my time with her was running out.
Dad only worked a mile down the road. He would be home soon. So we sat together in the quiet house, the only sounds, my muffled sobs and her labored breathing.
My father sat down on the floor where she was laying in my lap still and asked me to think what I loved most about her. Without a moments hesitation I knew. She would do anything for me to make me happy. I know that sounds odd talking about a dog, but it’s true. She was a family pet, but she was my dog.
My father wanted me to remember some of the things we had done together and remember how she use to run and heard me and my friends in the front yard, and how she used to bark and jump at every shovel of snow you threw. Then he told me to look at her lying in my lap, unable to move, barely able to lick my hand as I pet her. She wasn’t happy or comfortable.
She never cried or whimpered but looking at her, that spark in her eyes was fading. It was then that my father told me that I had to make a decision; to keep her alive and make her hold on in pain and discomfort, or to bring her to the vet and end her suffering. She was holding on with everything she could. As her body failed her, her heart would not give in. I couldn’t let her go on like that.
My dad laid a blanket in the back of the car and I carried her downstairs, she had gotten used to this, for she hadn’t been able to make the 13 stairs to go the bathroom for a while now by herself. I climbed into the back and helped her get comfortable. The debate that had transpired in my head won out with me having to go with her. I could not stay home and let my father do this alone. I would never forgive myself. She never left my side; I could not leave hers when she needed me most.
Eight minutes later after the silent ride we pulled into the parking lot. The sound of other friends barking in the distance alerted her that the destination was here. Again the debate ensued in my mind. Salty tears already stained my face but that could not stop me. She looked at me with a worried look. She knew something was wrong. Why else would I be this upset?
Walking behind my father I follow into the room, he had already gone in and informed the front desk why we were there and had come out and picked her up. The nurse held open the door soon as we walked in and said “This way, right in there.” Everyone watching knew what was going to happen once that door shut. Just the look on my face told the whole story, not to mention the worried look that was mirrored on my fathers and the nurses.
The clicking sound of her claws on the metal table made me jump, snapping me back to the reality that was about to happen.
This summer not only did I loose a pet, but a sister and my best friend.
——————-Written by: Alison Mason——————–
A Poem by Alison Mason
A soft jingle is heard down the hall
It brings a smile to my face as I focus
In on the tiny sound of fairies in the distance.
As the sun goes down the twilight has a soft ring in the air
Jumping around with the fireflies
Leaping after the snow
Buried into the leaves.
A coldness pressed against my wrist
Wakes me from my daydream
“Chelsea” is still with me,
Everywhere I go.