The Log Dog Blog: May 2017

On Friday, May 5, our little Sadie crossed the Rainbow Bridge.

This is the fifth Dachshund we've lost in 6.5 years.

Let that sink in.

Our fifth dog in 6.5 years.

That is a lot of heartache.

When we adopted Sadie in October 2014 at the age of 12, we had no idea how much time we would have with her. It turned out to be a little more than 2.5 years.

That might not sound like much. And in the grand scheme of time, I guess it isn't. But for us, it seemed like a lifetime.

We called her Lucky Number 7, not only because she was our seventh dog, but because we hit the jackpot with her.

She was, in almost every sense, the Anti-Dachshund. She was quiet and gentle, she didn't bark, she wasn't afraid of meeting new people or other dogs, and she happily let anybody and everybody pet her. She was so calm all the time! Someone at the door? No reaction other than a wagging tail.

She was a breath of fresh air and seamlessly transitioned into our herd.

Her backstory was not entirely clear. The information we received about her was that she'd basically lived on a porch – her basic needs were taken care of, but not much else. When she first joined our family, it was apparent that she'd never really been loved – she was awkward when we tried to hold her and hug her – but it did not take long for her to learn to love being held and cuddled. We don't know what kind of bed she ever had, but she had her choice of comfy places to sleep at our house, and watching her go from bed to bed to bed before finally choosing one, climbing into it, settling in for a nap, and expressing the world's most contented sigh never, ever, ever grew old.

She wasn't quite sure what to make of car rides at first, but she learned to run to the door excitedly after Maddy and Ginny whenever we mentioned the c-a-r word. It was so cute!

We had to teach her that bedtime meant sleeping in the "big bed" with us alongside her sisters, and it took a few nights for her to feel comfortable, but after that, she never looked back. And she loved soft fuzzy blankets, so those are all over our house as well. I like to think she spent her final years living in the lap of luxury.

She really was very gentle, never baring her teeth or growling at people. Only once did she ever bite someone, and the lucky recipient of that bite was me. She was choking and I grabbed her and stuck my finger down her throat in an attempt to dislodge the food. She did NOT like that one bit and chomped down on my finger with as much force as she could muster. Blood started spurting from my finger, but she was still choking while thrashing around in an attempt to escape from my grasp. After a battle that lasted what seemed like an hour but was probably 30-60 seconds, I managed to get the food out and both Sadie and I were covered in blood from the bite to my finger. It was complete craziness, but after I cleaned the two of us up, she gave me many kisses – whether they were a thank you or an apology, I happily accepted them.

In terms of her health, one thing that was evident from the get go was that she had some kidney issues, so we kept an eye on that each time we went to the vet. One vet visit led to some tests that revealed a large tumor on her stomach. She had surgery in January 2016 to remove the tumor, from which she recovered beautifully, and for the most part, she had no other health scares for over a year!

We noticed that she started to slow down a few months ago. Sometimes she wouldn't eat, sometimes she seemed lost, and other times she shook for no apparent reason. Other times she seemed perfectly fine. We'd watched four other senior dogs in their final months, and we knew her time with us was drawing to a close, but we decided to just observe her closely and ensure that her days were happy and filled with love.

We went to Tokyo for Spring Break last month and we were worried about Sadie the entire time. Thankfully, she was in the excellent care of my mom, but we still checked in each day to see how she was, and while she was fine in the general sense, there was more and more atypical behavior. When we got home from our trip, the difference in her from 11 days earlier was noticeable. She looked so tired and frail and she pretty much slept nonstop, waking very infrequently.

My mom offered to take her to the vet for us, which she did on Friday, April 21, and Dr. T. basically told us that Sadie had arthritis, but that she wasn't as concerned about that as she was about her mental deterioration. Sadie was scared and lost and shaking and behaving very strangely. At the very least, she had dementia and it was more than possible that other things were also happening in her brain. Given Sadie's advanced age, Dr. T.'s recommendation was for us to love her and make her comfortable, and that it would be up to us to decide when it was time to let her go when we felt her quality of life was no longer what she deserved.

Of our other four dogs we've lost, three (Molly, Gunni, and Duchess) were terrifying ends – panic and seizures and pain. I've harbored a lot of guilt over the years that I contributed to that horror by holding on to each of them too long because I wasn't ready to let go. I did not want that for Sadie and I knew we would have to make the terrible decision to help her cross the Rainbow Bridge.

We watched her closely and my mom kindly spent each day at our house while I was at school so that Sadie did not have to be alone. We did everything we could to make her happy, but it was clear that the end was drawing near. There were more frequent episodes of her appearing to not know where she was, inexplicable shaking, and a disinterest in eating at times, and it was very difficult to wake her from sleep.

C and I talked about it daily, but the truth is we knew we would never be ready to say goodbye. Ever. I'm not sure such a thing even exists. But as we watched her every day, and witnessed our little girl becoming less and less like herself, we knew we had to do what she needed, not what we needed.

While all of the dogs are "our dogs," each one has tended to gravitate toward either C or me, and Sadie definitely gravitated toward C. She certainly loved me very much and was constantly by my side if he wasn't home, but if he was, she usually preferred to sit with him or follow him around. That was one of the signs that she wasn't herself that we first noticed – she became very attached to me and wanted me to hold her all the time, which I was more than happy to do, but it was very unlike her. That behavior started maybe around the beginning of the year, and was our first indication that something was not quite right.

I called the vet on Monday, May 1 on my way to school to make an appointment. Not only was that one of the most difficult phone calls I've ever had to make, but once it was done, I sat in the parking lot at school and cried uncontrollably in my car for about 20 minutes before going in to the building.

Last week passed more quickly than any week I can recall as I counted down the hours and left school each day as quickly as possible so that I could get home to be with her. To say I did not want to be at school is the understatement of the year.

I did not tell my students they'd be having a sub on Friday until the end of the day on Thursday, and I couldn't really get the words out very well. As I cried, they came and hugged me to comfort me, and I will always remember their kindness during such a difficult time. I'd been keeping it together at school all week acting like things were all right, but each evening I would hold Sadie and cry into her fur and tell her what an amazing dog she was.

On Friday morning, C and I sat with her and loved on her as much as possible. Maddy and Ginny sat with her on the couch and I have no doubt that they knew. I haven't really said much about them in this post, but they were both exhibiting signs that they knew Sadie was not well – sitting/sleeping with her, licking her face all time, etc. – which are things they would previously do sometimes, but in recent weeks, it was constant. Maddy was very mothering toward her, making sure Sadie was ok and refusing to come in the house without her, while Ginny was very sad, curling up in a ball by herself for hours on end. I often forget that while we have had to say goodbye to five of our pups, Maddy and Ginny have also had to say goodbye to five of their sisters. It's heartbreaking to think about that.

After we had our family time together, we took our girl in the car, wrapped in a soft blanket, and made the dreadful drive to the vet. The only thing I was grateful for was that C was with me; I had to drive Molly, Gunni, and Duchess there myself on each of those dark days, so I cannot even explain how thankful I was that the two of us were together with our little gal. The whole way there we reminisced with her about all of the happy times we'd had and told her over and over again what a fabulous dog she was.

My mom met us at the vet and I went inside to do all of the paperwork before we took her in. That was awful.

But one small thing that brought a smile to my face was what was painted on the glass door. Our vet clinic employs some very talented people and they often have cute things painted on the glass windows and doors – Calvin and Hobbes, Garfield, Snoopy and Woodstock, etc.

That day, they had Pongo and Perdita painted on the door.

Others might have seen that and not given it a second thought – two Dalmatians, no big deal.

But while C and I might like to think we are similar to a variety of Disney couples, the reality is that we are probably most like Pongo and Perdita, in both personality and also the fact that they have lots of puppies. We have a picture of Pongo and Perdita hanging in our kitchen for this very reason.

I took this as a sign that we were doing the right thing because we were doing what was best for our girl.

(Side Note: If there was any doubt, when I got to school today (Monday), I changed my Disney page-a-day calendar from when I'd last been there on Thursday. What was the movie for Friday, May 5? You guessed it...101 Dalmatians. Kismet.)

Once the paperwork was done, I was told they had a room ready for us so we wouldn't have to sit in the waiting area, so I went back outside and got my mom and C, who carried Sadie in, still wrapped in her blanket.

If you have read any of my other posts related to our dogs, I've sung the praises of Dr. T. for years. She is an incredible human being and was with me when our other three girls crossed the Rainbow Bridge. She was no less amazing this time, telling us what a brave and selfless act this was, and loving on Sadie with us while we said our goodbyes. When the time came, I held Sadie in my arms, in her blanket, while C had one arm around me and one hand on Sadie and my mom stood by beside Sadie and sang to her. Dr. T. knelt on the floor and cried with us.

And then she was gone.

We sat with Sadie for a few minutes and Dr. T. gave us some time alone in the room. She looked so peaceful that even though it was one of the worst mornings of my life, I knew we had done the right thing to honor her and all of the love and joy she brought into our lives.

When we got home, C carried her blanket in and Ginny ran over to him and looked up expectantly, thinking Sadie was in the blanket. When we put the blanket on the floor, both Maddy and Ginny sniffed it for a long time, poking it with their noses and searching through it for her. That was almost too much for me to handle. They have been very quiet since Friday, and it is weird to only have two dogs in the house. In the last eight years, four of those have been spent with five dogs at one time, and the other four with either three or four dogs, so only having two dogs now seems very foreign to us.

When we fed Maddy and Ginny dinner on Friday night and we only had to use two bowls, the reality that our girl was no longer with us really hit me. And early on Saturday morning, in my still-half-asleep stupor, I felt around for Sadie to check on her before I remembered the previous day's events and sobbed.

It has been a very depressing weekend at our house. I know things will get easier. I know we will remember all of the cute and adorable things Sadie did. I know the happy memories will eventually replace the heartache. But right now, we are so very sad.

The last thing I'll share is her nicknames. I'm sure those of you with pets also call yours by a variety of names from time to time, and over the years, we bestowed many nicknames upon her. Sadie morphed into Sassy, which became Sassafras, which became Razzle, which turned into either Raspberry or Zazzy or Zazzle or Razzle Dazzle, depending on the day. And she answered to all of them. But I think her favorite was Pork Chop, which is what C called her. I don't know where it came from, but when he called out "Pork Chop!" in an excited voice, she came running to her favorite human with her tail madly wagging.

I don't know how we got so lucky.

Here are some photos – some have captions and some don't and some are better quality that others because some are screenshots from my Instagram feed because that was easier that going through thousands of photos on the computer. But all of them capture the awesomeness that was our Sadie.