For Everything There is a Season

"In order to write about life, first you must live it." ~ Ernest Hemingway

Category: elderly dogs

A Story Of Euthanasia

February 7, 2018 / / 0 Comments

I was alone at my favorite restaurant today and the waitress had just set my meal down in front of me. I started to eat and all of a sudden, memories rushed into my head; memories so powerful that the tears threatened to come.

Eat, I told myself.
Hurry up and eat and you can cry in the car.
So I did.

And I cried all the way home. As I was driving home, I realized that the second I got home, I needed to finally write about this. I promised myself that much at least.

It’s been a little over 9 months since my dog, Molly, died. And while I’ve wanted to write about it, I haven’t.

I couldn’t.

I’m not exactly sure what makes today different. Maybe because I promised myself I would. Maybe it is because I have this nagging little voice in my head that is telling me that it has to be written today because soon, someone else is going to need this story….a story that I wish I could have read 9, 10, or 15 months ago.


Molly was my almost 16 year old basset hound/black lab mix rescue. She was my constant, faithful companion for 13 of those years. She was more than a dog to me; she was my child. I couldn’t imagine a life without her.

But this story isn’t about her life. It is about her death and the process of having to make the decision to end her life.

I had noticed one day in the Fall of 2016 that Molly’s breathing seemed labored. In addition, she was more fatigued than usual. Our vet couldn’t see her that day and recommended we take her to the E.R. After many stressful hours, she was diagnosed with probable heart failure.

For me, that was the beginning of the end.

My husband and I talked and decided to proceed with medication to manage her heart failure. At this point in her life, at 15 years old, she had slowed down considerably and had some hearing loss. To be honest, I had been mentally preparing myself for years that her advancing age meant we would soon have to make some difficult decisions.

We started with two medications and then took her to see a veterinary cardiologist. She said that yes, she had heart failure and when I asked, said that she thought Molly would probably be able to be managed on medications for roughly 2 years. We left there with several more medications and in addition to medications she was already on for arthritis and a thyroid problem, her list totaled 8 different medications.

Molly actually improved for several months but then her breathing got worse again. The cardiologist told us her echocardiogram showed worsening of the heart failure. Medication doses were increased.

At this time we also started to notice some changes in her behavior that indicated she may have dementia. And, her hearing was getting worse. I had a conversation with our regular vet about when we would know that it was “time.” She talked about how many people make the decision to euthanize when the dog stops eating, appears to be in a lot of pain, or isn’t enjoying life anymore.

Molly didn’t seem to be in pain; she was on a pain medication for years for arthritis. She was eating, although not as much as she used to. However it was becoming obvious that she was starting to struggle. The dementia was getting worse. Her breathing, at times, was getting worse, and her quality of life was worsening.

I remember one afternoon, a few weeks before she died, I was lying down on the couch, on my back. Molly was always an affectionate snuggler but she did something new that afternoon. She got up from her spot by my feet, climbed up on my belly and chest, and rested her head so that we were practically nose to nose. She looked me right in the eye. It was spooky.


I can’t really explain how I knew.
But I did. 
I knew she was telling me she was ready to go.

So why did it take us several more weeks (2? 3?) then to euthanize her? I think there were many reasons. I was waiting for my husband to say, “it’s time.” (this is something we only discussed very recently…about how I knew before he did that it was time). He would point out that she still enjoyed being outside sometimes or that she was still eating. At times her breathing wasn’t as bad. I was waiting for one of our two vets to say, “it may be time.” Neither ever did.

I was OK with euthanizing Molly. Well, as OK as anyone can be I suppose. The last thing in the world that I wanted was for her to suffer. But I was caught up in the thought of, “what if I am wrong…what if it is too soon?”

I was afraid of murdering her.

But I couldn’t get rid of that nagging feeling from that day on the couch when she looked at me. And I was actually thinking about that as I walked into our house one day after about 2 hours of running errands. Something didn’t smell right.

I walked into our living room to find several small piles of stool. Not even diarrhea. Just regular stool and it seemed like she thought she was outside. She had been incontinent of urine on and off for many, many months, but the stool? That had only happened one time in all the years I had her and it was due to her getting into something outside when she was 4 years old and not being able to get outside to the bathroom in time.

And that did it for me.
I knew.

I knew that she had to be really confused to do that inside the house. I could live with accidents in the house. Hell, I had been dealing with urine for a while. But it symbolized how much she was struggling, and likely suffering. Things were just going to get worse.

I called my husband at work and told him we were putting her down. I called our regular vet and told them I wanted to make an appointment to have her euthanized. I was shaking so hard, I dropped the phone at one point. We chose a day the following week  when neither one of us had to worry about going to work for a few days afterwards.

Since we first found out she had heart failure, we were making the most of our time left with her. We got 7 months of appreciating every single moment with her. But after I made the appointment, I told my husband I wanted to take her to the beach one last time. Years ago that would have meant a full day trip with several hours of exploring.


We had a glorious 30 minutes with her on that beach. She was almost like her old self again, until then she wasn’t, and we decided it was time to go.

Two days after that beach trip, it happened again. It was a Tuesday and she was scheduled to be euthanized on Friday. She was lying on my bed and I had been checking in on her a lot because it seemed like her breathing was more labored. The beach trip, which included 4 hours in the car, was probably too much for her but I was OK with that because she enjoyed it so much.

I laid next to her on the bed and she turned to face me and it was there again…that look. The look that said I’ve had enough.

I cried and stroked her head.
I called the vet.
I called my husband and told him I moved up the appointment to the next morning.
He asked if I was sure because it was my birthday. I told him that I couldn’t prolong her suffering just because it was my birthday. It was the right thing to do.

Molly died on May 3, 2017.
The events of that day are for another time, another blog entry.

So what’s the point in writing all this? Sure, it’s a bit cathartic but God knows I’ve had plenty of people to process this with since last year.

This is about more than that. It’s about letting whomever reads this know that if you are in this same situation, the situation of choosing death over life, or mercy over suffering, or even compassion over selfishness, you can do this.

Know that there is no “right” time.

If you are taking the time to find your way to this particular post, I know you love your pet. And when you make this kind of decision out of love, you cannot be wrong. You are not giving up on your pet. And for God’s sake, don’t buy into the whole, “I’m murdering her/him” thing.

You WILL NOT be wrong.

Since last May, I have beaten myself up several times about if maybe we should have put Molly down sooner. Maybe we should have done it when she was first diagnosed with heart failure. That was actually some of the memories that revisited me today during my lunch.

But then I stopped to think about my motives. Did we keep her alive all those months because we couldn’t bear to let her go? No. It was a process of trying to give her a good life while managing a significant illness.

What I will say to someone who is wondering when the right time is to euthanize a pet: listen to your gut. Don’t overanalyze because it just makes the situation worse. Pay close attention to your pet. You know him or her better than anyone. If your pet gets sick with something that will eventually kill them (heart failure, liver disease, cancer, etc.), make some tentative decisions about how far you are willing to go with their treatment. Think about the kind of life you want for your pet, and for you and your family. And lastly, don’t let a vet, family member, or anyone else push you into decisions that in your gut, you know are not in the best interest of your pet.

I know, it’s hard.
Hard is an understatement.
I won’t lie.
It’s an agonizing process.

But in the words of my hero, Glennon Doyle,
“We can do hard things.”


Molly around 8 years old
Molly at 14 years old

Life’s Challenges

December 12, 2016 / / 4 Comments

I promised myself I would not go through another day without blogging. I noticed this past weekend that it has been almost three months since I posted anything. I have done some writing since my last blog post, but it was writing done just for me. That is one of my biggest challenges with having a blog; being an authentic writer while still not doing damage to other people in my life.

A LOT has happened since August. It’s funny because I kept telling myself, “Oh this would make a great blog post” or “I should write about this.” But sometimes I get like that: I just want to experience life without feeling obligated to write about it all the time.

In August, my husband and I took a dream trip to Ireland. It was a trip we had been talking about since we started dating over six years ago. We had the money saved but I kept stalling on planning it due to my health issues and my fears about being in another country with said health issues. I finally got over that and we had this amazing eleven day adventure (with prednisone on board to get me through the adventure) of Northern Ireland, Co. Donegal, Co. Mayo, Co. Galway, Co. Offaly and one of the Aran Islands. That is a topic I will still probably blog about at some point in the future!

About a week after we got home, we got SLAMMED with one crisis after another, some major, some annoying. We had some large, unexpected expenses, an unwell family member, a major family relationship conflict, and then our fifteen year old dog, Molly, ended up in the E.R. and was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. We had to make a decision and we decided to go ahead and bring her to a cardiologist for treatment. She is doing better in regards to her heart, but the side effects of the medications have made life much more challenging for my husband and I. And if you’ve ever had an elderly dog, you know the expense that comes with keeping them comfortable.

Molly has also had some challenges just in terms of getting old. It would appear that she has very little, if any, hearing and this past weekend we noticed that maybe her eyesight is becoming an issue. We did decide that we will likely not go any further in pursuing treatment when the next medical crisis for her comes along. We were hoping for her to get through this Christmas and with less than two weeks to go, that possibility looks very likely.

That was all in September. In October, we got news that one of my closest friends, Steve, who had been living with Stage 4 colon cancer for over two years, was getting sicker. We are an hour and a half away from him and his family, so a lot of October was spent traveling back and forth and spending as much time with him as possible.

On November 5th, my friend lost his brave battle.

That experience with him was life changing for me and it was one that requires and deserves so much more than what I am going to write here today.

A story for another time.

Then on November 24th (Thanksgiving Day), my sister-in-law, Stacie, passed away very unexpectedly. This was made more difficult by the fact that we live fourteen hours away from where she lived. She was the first person my husband ever told me about when we started dating. I knew her death was going to be earth shattering for him.

I just realized this afternoon that I still have not fully processed her death.

As I am writing this, I think it is hitting me that I have been in survival mode since August, even with the vacation. One day at a time.

Get things done.
Be present.
Just get through the next hour.
You can do it.
You can survive this.

And I did. Of course the stress contributed to a major autoimmune flare for which I am currently on a three week run of prednisone for…one of my tougher prednisone runs, that is for sure. And, I have been having some issues with anxiety which has not been a major issue for years. But, I have people helping me with that and more importantly, I know how to help myself through that.

My attitude right now is to go into Christmas taking care of myself as much as possible. This has meant making some changes to our routine and traditions this year. It has meant a lot of tolerance and understanding from my husband towards me and from me towards my husband. The past few months have reminded me of how important it is to choose well when it comes to a life partner.  It has also reminded me of how very important it is to choose well when it comes to the people we surround ourselves with.

Isn’t that mostly what life is about though? Going through life with people? In the past few months I have learned so much about myself, my husband, and who is going to be there at times when the phone rings at 8am and your friend of thirty years tells you he has about two weeks to live and you are in the car headed out of town less than an hour later, not sure of when you will be back and what your life will look like when you do get back home.

Those are the moments that define you.
And the people who loved me through it are the ones that remind me of how rich my life is.

Go love your people.
Tell them.
Show them
Put your phones away and be with them.

The Jumbled Mess That We Call Life

September 21, 2016 / / 2 Comments

I signed a DNR  (do not resuscitate) order for my dog, Molly, yesterday…

Life has gotten so messy and complicated so quick, it’s a bit staggering. One minute we’re having the time of our lives in Ireland and Northern Ireland and the next, the shit is hitting the fan. It’s almost like the world is playing a cruel joke on us by saying, ‘Here, go have the time of your lives, but be prepared because I am going to chew you up and spit you out when you get home!”

The reality is though, the world (or God) isn’t playing a cruel joke on us, that’s just life: highs, lows, and everything in between, all mixed up into this jumbled mess that one minute has you laughing and the next, has you crying.

As previously mentioned, shortly after we returned home, we got some disturbing news about a member of our family. And then we got hit with some unexpected financial expenses. Can someone please tell me why dental work and car tires cost SO much?? But, my husband and I still had our heads above water.

For me, my head started rapidly dropping below water when I went to my orthopedic appointment yesterday morning and I was told there are no other options to treat a severe problem (an osteochondral defect…if you have experience with this, e-mail me!) with my left ankle, except for surgery…a surgery that has a recovery period of up to six months-three months before I can even work or do anything resembling normal day-to-day physical activity.

I signed a DNR order for my dog, Molly, yesterday…

Surgery is a nightmare for me. I had my gallbladder out last year and I cannot believe I even have to consider the thought of going through that again. To start with, I will have to come off the low-dose naltrexone I take for my Sjögren’s symptoms because it cannot be mixed with narcotics. And we all know I am definitely going to need narcotics, at least short term. Secondly, there is my previous history of blood clots. I am guessing that a pending surgery will require discussion with my hematologist, especially since I will be in a cast post-op and my blood clot risk will be high. And that means blood thinners, frequent blood work, and a lot of worry for me.

So I am doing what every patient who is trying to avoid surgery is doing: postponing scheduling the surgery until I can get a second opinion. Hopefully that will come soon since walking is quite difficult at the moment.

I signed a DNR order for my dog, Molly, yesterday…

This morning’s doctor appointment had me subsequently going to the hospital for multiple x-rays of my back. Right after we arrived in Ireland, I started getting episodes of numbness on one side of my upper back. That was in addition to the pain I’ve been getting in my tailbone and sacrum for months now. Pain that the doctor keeps telling me will eventually go away. We went back and forth about cortisone shots this morning. She wants me to get more shots, this time under fluoroscopy, so we can get deeper into the small areas around my tailbone. I want an MRI to see if we can find out if something scary is going on in there. She says no. But, she does agree to x-ray the part of my back having numbness and sends me off to physical therapy to try and straighten my crooked sacrum out.

I don’t have the energy right now for physical therapy.
But, I’ll go because I think it might help.

So many decisions to make.
So many complicated conversations to have.

Does anybody appreciate how hard it is to stay focused in these long medical conversations when one is feeling overwhelmed? I know some of you certainly can.

But see, I can typically handle all this medical drama. And I can handle it pretty well, with a lot of grace. I am warrioresque like that.

I’m out of grace this week.

Why?

Because I had to sign a DNR order for my dog, Molly, yesterday…

Two nights ago I was sitting on the couch with my husband watching TV. Molly came over, put her head on the couch, and looked at me in a way I haven’t seen before. A look that said, “something is wrong with me.”

She’s fifteen years old. I was told about five years ago that she has a leaky heart valve, tricuspid valve I think it is. My husband and I both knew that she hasn’t been feeling so hot recently. She gets more fatigued on her walks and the heat/humidity we have had lately here in New England has been tough on her. She was panting more than usual. But overall, she looked content and I had made a promise to her, and myself, that I would not go to extraordinary measures to keep her alive at this point.

But what exactly does “extraordinary” even mean??

Yesterday morning I woke up and noticed my husband and Molly weren’t in the bedroom. I got up and my husband, Chuck, came upstairs with Molly. He had taken her down to our spare bedroom during the night to sleep because she was breathing too heavily and he was up most of the night with her. However it was one of those things where it came and went.

Because I had that doctor’s appointment about my ankle I could not miss and he had to go to work, he took her to work with him. She initially looked better, but then every time he took her outside, she would be short of breath and excessively panting again.

I met him at his work after my appointment and called the vet. She was in surgery all day and I was told to bring her in the next morning or if I thought she couldn’t wait, to take her to the E.R.

And that was where I spent the rest of my day.

It was hard, really hard.

They took her right in and checked her out. I got to fill out forms while I waited. I took my forms, sat down, and saw the form where I have to decide if needed, if I wanted her to have CPR. But at least they respectfully put the price of the CPR in parentheses next to the word “resuscitate.” There are different prices depending on how much life support you want them to perform.

You have to be kidding me.

And then the tears came. I knew we were going to face this eventually, but no matter how much I have tried to mentally and emotionally prepare myself, my heart started to slowly shatter into little pieces. A kind looking woman handed me tissues. Her gentle act of kindness was enough to help me pull myself together long enough to check the box for DNR.

Breath, Chris, breathe.

You promised you wouldn’t let her suffer or keep her alive just for your own sake.

Have I mentioned Molly has been my constant companion for twelve years and one of the two loves of my life?

About an hour later I got an update. The doctor thought her breathing was stable. She didn’t see the breathing distress that my husband and I had witnessed. I told her it comes and goes. She tells me her oxygen levels and vital signs are good. Can she have my permission to start an IV, just in case? I give it to her. She also asks for permission to do a chest x-ray and some blood work. I give her that as well.

How much is too much?

When do we decide enough is enough?

I sit there and decide we need to know what is going on and what we are facing. Maybe this is simply a case of pneumonia that can be adequately treated with antibiotics. Yes, let’s do the chest x-ray and labs…see what happens. Maybe even a cardiologist to further figure out what exactly is wrong so we can make her as comfortable as possible with medications. But it’s OK I tell myself, it won’t come to that. The doctor said her physical exam was unremarkable.

It comes to that.

Three hours later, I am brought back in. I am shown the x-rays. Her heart is enlarged, very enlarged. Possible congestive heart failure is mentioned. There are shady areas on her lungs, not tumors, but possibly pulmonary hypertension. I’m a nurse. I know what terms are bad and which ones still contain a shred of hope. To add insult to injury, the doctor took a quick peek at her heart valves. They don’t look none too good either, but I am told that they only way to know for sure is to see a cardiologist and have an echocardiogram done.

How much is too much?

This doctor is amazing. She explains everything in a way that I think should be a model for every doctor and vet in this country. She is not overwhelmed with my questions. She is patient. And she is kind. She asks me about starting Molly on two different medications for her heart and I agree. That was pretty much the point of me bringing her in, to make her comfortable.

I run through my checklist in my head. I developed this checklist sometime last year when I saw how much Molly was slowing down. It’s a guide of sorts to help me (us) determine when we are at the endpoint…

* Is she in pain or distress? No to the pain and the heart meds should help with the breathing distress.
* Is she eating? Yes, very well.
* Can she walk well? Yes.
* Does she enjoy something in her life that she’s always done? Yes, playing with her babies, going for car rides and to the park, spending time with us, cuddling.
* Can we afford her vet bills? Yes, despite the fact they are a killer and we will have to re-prioritize some things.

So, a plan is developed and we are homeward bound, both of us much more fragile than when we arrived. As I am driving home I think about one of the owners and his dog who were in the waiting room with me. I am pretty good at reading people and the read on this man was that this dog was everything, and everyone, to him. You could see it in the way he handled him. There are infants that I haven’t seen handled so gently and talked to so lovingly. If I couldn’t see and was in another environment, I would have thought it was a baby he was talking to.

I overheard the man talking to another woman. I couldn’t believe the amount of serious diagnoses the poor dog had. He sees NINE different specialists. Then I looked over at the dog and I actually had to watch for his breathing because otherwise you couldn’t tell he was alive. He was so listless and it appeared to me, he was barely existing.

Certainly not my place to judge, but it made me realize that was not the condition I wanted Molly to live in. She sees a cardiologist Friday and I am hoping she does the echocardiogram the same day so we can get a handle on knowing what is going on and so we can have conversation and make some decisions what how far we want to take her and at what point we will say enough is enough.

That is life, one big jumbled mess. You never know what the next day, or even hour, is going to bring you. It may bring you to the most beautiful mountains and valleys of Ireland. It may bring you to the heart wrenching decision of checking off that DNR box. Sometimes, you just have to hang on tight and pray your way through the day. Or, stay present in the moment you are in and remember to do the next right thing.

Life can hit us in a way that requires us to weave through it one important decision at a time….one moment at a time.

As I finish this up, I realize that after  a ten hour day, I am done for today. There is nothing else so urgent that it cannot be looked at tomorrow. So I am doing my next right thing for myself and curling up on the makeshift dog bed in the living room with Molly. And, I am going to hang on tight.

When They Grow Old…

May 14, 2015 / / 0 Comments

As many of you know, I have this amazing dog named Molly. She is a 13 year old (14 in two months!) basset hound/black lab mix who I adopted from a local shelter with my ex-husband back in 2003. She and I have been through it all together: serious illness, a divorce, a job loss, loss of another pet for me and serious illness, severe separation anxiety, a divorce, and the loss of a dog brother for her. Through it all, we have been constant companions.

Molly is different now than she used to be and the change happened sometime around the time I got divorced and moved into my own place with her. She used to be the hyper one, not especially affectionate, and always wanted her own way. She still wanting her own way, but the move changed her. At first, it was for the worse. The separation anxiety she experienced was bad enough that she almost hurt/killed herself trying to go through a window when she was home alone, I was renting at the time and my landlords were not appreciate of her constant howling and barking every single time I left the house. It was a hard time for me as well, because I was disabled and even getting to doctor’s appointments was a struggle, because I didn’t know what I would come home to.

It took a long time, but we worked it out. A year of behavior modification and psychiatric medications, as well as visits to a dog shrink at Tufts University, got us through the bad parts. Not to mention several kind and compassionate friends and family who would watch her for me during the rockiest of times.

I will be honest. I almost gave up on her during this period of time. My own physical needs were so extensive at the time that I didn’t know how I was going to mange the severe separation anxiety because I obviously had to leave the house. I remember one afternoon, I came home to find her panting and in so much distress. The apartment was torn apart. I sat on the floor with her and cried. Then I google searched basset hound rescues and found the one I was going to call.

I never made the call.

And from that point on, that is when the change happened. She was completely and utterly devoted to me. It’s almost like she knew…

A year later, Molly, who was about 8 years old, started to have multiple medical problems. The vet bills mounted up and the care she needed increased. The most notable incident was the day I came home from a friend’s funeral to find that she couldn’t get up and down the stairs and cried every time she tried to move. I still vividly remember the pain in my heart upon hearing her cry like that. It sounded like she was being tortured and I had never seen her react to pain at all, never mind as if someone was beating her.

Several days of hell ensued. Multiple vet/E.R. appointments got us nowhere. Then the day after Christmas, I realized she was almost completely paralyzed. I was able to get a hold of a supervisor in the E.R.who said she read what happened when Molly was brought in and I was to put her in a car immediately and rush her to the MSPCA Angell  Boston Animal Hospital, two hours away. Because of my own limitations at the time, I had to call a friend to get her in my car for me. We drove to Boston, during a major winter storm. I honestly thought we might not make it there in one piece. I also knew that I had to try and get her there.

She received the best possible medical care there. After a lot of tests, I was told that she had a ruptured lumbar disk in her back and that was why she was paralyzed and couldn’t go to the bathroom correctly. I was told that a $5000 surgery was needed and it was thought that the surgery would help her walk again and get rid of her pain, but there were no guarantees. Even if the surgery accomplished all this, she would most likely be incontinent of urine and stool the rest of her life. I could do the surgery, or have her put to sleep. The decision was mine.

I don’t know if words can adequately express the agony in making that decision. The only financial resources I had at the time was some money from the sale of my house during my first marriage. But, I was also on disability and that was the only money I had in the world to fall back on. Taking $5000 out of it could have serious consequences for me in the future. I also wanted to do what was best for Molly. I didn’t want to prolong her life if it meant a life of  pain and suffering. Would I even be able to care for her long-term? The aftercare from the surgery alone would be incredibly difficult.

I remember my boyfriend at the time (my now husband) just holding me and letting me cry. I prayed a lot. I decided to go ahead with the surgery.

Molly came home several days later. She was never incontinent after the surgery and made a full recovery. The doctors were astounded. I know we were lucky. We trudged through the following few weeks of her recovery together.

The years since that day I made that difficult decision have been a blessing. I got married. Molly took really well to my new husband and once we moved into his home, she rarely ever had separation anxiety issues. She remained my constant companion. She continued to be by my side during several medical crises. She kept me company during those long days and weeks when I couldn’t get out of bed and my husband was at work all day. She was my emotional healer.

It has been an interesting experience watching her age, and a precious one at that. I’ve never been responsible for a senior dog before and I will say, I treat it as a privilege. I watch her get grayer with each passing week. I see how drastically she has slowed down in the past year or two. No more one hour walks romping through the park. No more play dates at the dog park because it is just too much for her. We have to be vigilant about keeping on top of her pain medications and some other health issues, especially as the arthritis continues to progress from her back surgery all those years ago. I have made a commitment to her that when she is ready to go, I will not prolong her life.

I will not let her suffer.

Mother’s Day passed by recently and I was so appreciate of the dog mom friends I have on Facebook who were so happy to claim themselves as dog moms with all the different memes. I never had children of my own and Molly has helped fill the maternal need that I have. I have taken some crap about that and heard all the jokes, but really, it is serious business. She instinctively knows when I am suffering, either physically or emotionally. She acts in ways that make my husband and I laugh so hard, we can make a whole evening of it. She gives and gives and gives to us every day, expecting nothing in return. Sometimes society, and the people in it, judge how we love. They say there is no love like the love between a mother and a child. Or you have not truly loved unconditionally unless you have a partner or a spouse,

No, love is love. We each get to define it for what it is and for how we feel it.

I had an opportunity this week to talk to someone about Molly. A person who doesn’t know her. I explained to her that it is a love like I have never known. It’s not better or worse than the love I have for my husband or say, my parents, but it is very different. It is the fierce, protective love that is demonstrated by putting her needs before my own and trust me, it has happened many times. It is a quiet, unconditional love that has no rules; no boundaries, no expectations.

It is a love of true acceptance.

Up until recently, I was sometimes afraid to love Molly over the past two years. I knew she was getting towards the end of her days and I thought the pain of the loss would be more than I could bear. A few things happened to change that. I started leaving situations out of my control in God’s hands. I realized that I could make more out of the time we do have left. I would also see profiles on dog rescue sites of elderly dogs abandoned by their owners, because they could no longer care for them. Dogs who have multiple health issues. Elderly dogs who get treated in many ways similar to elderly people in this country-like they are disposable.

I made the very difficult decision this week to have Molly put under anesthesia to get her teeth cleaned. It was a difficult decision because of her age, a heart murmur and a new found problem with one of her liver tests.There was some concern though that two of her teeth were very bad and maybe causing her pain, Some of those in my life disagreed with my decision, but I was OK with that. I made my decision based on my promise to her: that I would not let her suffer, no matter what. If it was God’s will to take her during the procedure, then she would go peacefully, with no more pain.

The procedure ended up being twice as long and twice as difficult as anticipated. Seven teeth had to be extracted, as well as some root work that included a bone graft. A biopsy also needed to be performed. She is now recovering well and while I am grateful, I am not really surprised. She’s a fighter that one. And now, she will live whatever time she has left without pain.

And we will love her just as much as ever.

Loving Molly

November 11, 2014 / / 1 Comment

I was at a dinner party with a group of friends last evening and one particular couple and I were discussing the topic of our dogs. After years and years of love and devotion, they recently had to put down their fourteen year old beloved pet this past year and in exchanging stories about pets, I found myself sharing my story about Molly. They had read anecdotes and seen pictures of her on Facebook, but didn’t know some of the details of my trials and tribulations with Molly, my thirteen year old basset hound and black lab mix.

I was scrolling through my blog today and I realized that I don’t write about Molly much here. I did write about her back in 2010 when we went through a horrible medical experience together. One which resulted in me having to make a decision about whether to put her down, or spend $5,000 on a surgery that looked promising in some aspects, but held no promises for either of us in terms of her quality of life. A story I am happy to say, had a happy ending of a full recovery for Molly.

I was thinking this morning about that difficult time I went through with Molly and realized that I understood why, despite the fact that I talk about her all the time with my family and friends, I never write about her…

Because I don’t need to.

Because a lot of the time, writing is therapeutic for me and my connection to this dog is so pure, and so untouched by the unsavory elements that normally affect personal relationships, that there is no need to process my feelings about her. There is no fighting, no misunderstandings, no hurt feelings, no family drama, no unfulfilled expectations.

Just love.

And a mean, pure love.

I never had children of my own. That’s a long story in itself for another day. I saw a posting recently on Facebook, not from anyone in my family, or close friend circle luckily, in which several comments were made in response to a woman (without any children) who said that her dogs are like her children. The responses went on and on about how a dog, or any pet, is nothing like having a child and that people need to stop comparing being a pet owner with being a parent. I have read stuff like this before in articles and such, but this particular thread really got to me.

To begin with, Molly is like a child to me. Yes, I am completely sane and as a pediatric nurse, a stepmother to adult children, and a person who has a million friends with children, I do understand it is different. I understand that while my dog fulfills many of the same desires and needs that a child fulfills for a parent, it is not quite the same thing and having Molly as a pet, no matter how much I love and care for her, will never fulfill the loss I feel from not having a child.

I also understand that this dog and I have traveled through life together for ten years together and I would guess that most people in my life could never fully comprehend what we have been through together: losing half of our former family, our home, the nights we have spent alone together on the couch…

The time where I didn’t think I could care for her anymore and had the phone number in my hand for a basset hound rescue…

The Christmas Eve I stayed up all night with her when she was in agony…

The nights she stayed up with me when I was in agony…

The blizzard I drove two hours in to get her to an emergency room when she became paralyzed…

The night I stayed up trying to make a decision about whether she would be better off being put down or having a surgery that I could not afford…

The moment I saw her walk towards me several days after that surgery…

These are just a few examples of the journey we have been on in the past ten years. She has taught me the meaning of unconditional love. Isn’t unconditional love what being a parent is about? Some of the comments in response to that post I mentioned above stated that until you become a parent, you cannot know what that kind of love is like. I disagree. I think as a person who has never had a child of her own, yes, I do not know what it is like to raise a child. But that does not mean that I do not know how to love unconditionally and without reservation. It concerns me greatly that as a society, we judge each other on how we love. Or that we condemn each other on the love that we do have for all living creatures.

I rescued Molly from a shelter in 2004. She has been rescuing me ever since. At the age of 13, I know our time together is limited and will come to an end much sooner than I would like. She takes medication to manage her thyroid, her stomach, and the resulting arthritis pain from her 2010 surgery. She moves slower at times and is not the spry young thing she once was. However she still has a good quality of life and so we continue on. And the thought of her being gone forever scares me. But for now, I will love her. I will care for her. I will take advantage of every single day that we have left together. I will let her love me. And when the time comes, no matter how difficult it will be, I will be by her side when she is ushered to the other side.

Because that is love.

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