She was fine that morning, the routine was very normal for a very chilly morning. BARK. The first bark of the morning was always my alarm clock to get out of bed. BARK. The second bark of the morning was "Feed me." Yes, she ignored my opening the doggy door. Breakfast came before going out to potty. After she ate, she wouldn't go potty unless I told her to. Then she would run out her doggy door, do her business and come back in and BARK. The 3rd bark of the day was, "I'm ready for my morning treat." Then we would sit on the sofa. She would lay beside me and paw at me if I didn't start giving her an ear massage quick enough.
Eventually, she would get up and BARK. Which meant, "Time for your breakfast. You can drop something for me if you want. I'll make sure to clean it up." I would get my breakfast. Sit in the living room. Watch the news. BARK. This time she was telling me to get up and get ready for work. I would head to the bathroom. She would lay down by the bathroom door.
Occasionally, she would stick her nose around the door to look in at the shower. She has done this since the day I adopted her. Before, when there was a shower curtain, I would see her little nose and whiskers stick through the edge of the shower curtain, thus one of her nicknames was Mousey. If I took too long to get ready, BARK. This bark would mean, "You need to leave." I knew she was a big part of my life but now I realize how much of my life she was.
Yes, she had a barking routine in the afternoon when I would get home from work. But before that would start, she had this little dance and putting up her paw to indicate to me, "Come down here and give me some attention." And so I would. Then BARK, "Feed me!" BARK, "Give me my treat." Then we would have the "go potty" game where she would run out the doggy door and right back in. She had a bladder of steel. If i arrived and woke her up, she needed to go potty but getting attention and food were priorities, so I would have to tell her to go potty. She would go out the door and "fake me out" with trying to run right back in. "You didn't go potty. Go potty." Or she would go half way to the door and stop, waiting for me to insist that she go potty. She did a wonderful job at making me laugh every single day that she was with me.
Tuesday, Dec. 20, 2016, when I arrived home from work, everything changed. I found her laying on her tummy in the living room. As soon as she saw me she started wagging her tail, but she couldn't get up. Something was wrong, very wrong. I sent texts and called, trying to find somebody to help me. The vet office was closed. I needed to find a 24 hr vet. Finally, a friend called back, gave me info on a 24 hr vet and said, "I'll meet you there."
I tried to stay calm, but wasn't doing a very good job of it. What was wrong with my baby? Did she hurt her back or leg. She wasn't yelping in pain. My neighbor came to help me get her in the car. I drove, trying to stay legal yet wanting to drive faster than ever before. Kept my flashers on to try to indicate that I was driving to emergency. I carried her in. Now the look on her face was the look that something was very wrong. She wasn't excited to see anybody, but still tried to wag her tail some. The vet didn't have any good news. Internal bleeding which will happen again. Tumors. Only aggressive measures might give her a couple of more months. Damn cancer! That stuff is the worst thing on earth. Nothing could be done to fix her. I couldn't do anything to fix my baby. We were there for hours. I held her. Another one of my friends brought her soft serve ice cream like we use to get once a year at Sonic after her rabies shot. I held her some more. I held her to her last minute and beyond.
Thursday, Dec 29, 2016, I buried my baby at Smoke Rise Farm Pet Cemetery. I petted her one last time, giving her one last ear massage. I carried her to her grave. I helped lower her in. I gave her all her favorite toys and watched as Michael, on of the workers there, gently covered her with her blanket and buried her.
Now this place is quiet. No 3rd alarm clock. No four legger bossing me around. Nobody greets me at the door. Nobody is here waiting for a hug and love. The last 4 weeks have been some of the most difficult weeks of my life. Lonely, Quiet. Only the good memories are left. I still catch myself looking for her, almost calling for her when I get home, looking to see if there is water in her bowl, and wishing she was here to hug me. There is nobody to travel with me to grandma's (her grandma's) house. Sochi, the neighbor's dog, came looking for her yesterday. Snuggles, mom's dog, was very puzzled that she didn't come with me at Christmas. Harley, Abby, and Billy (a friend's dogs) don't understand why I don't bring her for play dates anymore.
My sweet Valee, I miss you so much. I miss all of your quirks, your loving everybody that you saw, your companionship, your love. You made me laugh, You helped me live. You loved well.
