It’s uneasy. It’s a moment. It’s really really raw. It’s the sorrowful time when we decide to lay our furry friends to rest.
How We Met
It’s a bit eccentric to give your dog of 16 years and 8 months a sort of…eulogy, especially when her sister or previous comrades never got the respect. That’s not to say, I didn’t love those sloppy kisses and hesitant snuggles any less, rather I was not at a point in my life to make heartbreaking decisions and then, write about it. Let’s begin with the days we met, which require a travel back into my 11-year-old mind.
I was jumping on the the trampoline, spending all my summer days in the sun, bouncing over the farmland when in the distance, on a dirt road a mile away, 3 objects started prancing my way. As they inched closer, I could make out 4 legs and wagging tails on three puppies. (I should preface every dog is a puppy to me even as they reach retirement age.) Two literal puppies (black and yellow), maybe 6 months old, followed a much larger white dog. The two labs (mixed with everything else found in Tripp County) were likely dropped off on that dirt road by some very irresponsible owners. They found a friend at the neighbor’s house and decided to roam the countryside, learning from the older canine. Being Grandma Mary Ann’s granddaughter, I will adopt nearly everything that doesn’t require too much attention. Every kitty was mine. Every rabbit was mine. Even the wild pheasant, Willy, returned yearly to Becca’s House of Runaways. It was obvious to my mom, that these puppies were soon to be living in the garage, running across the highway for many years to come. My sister and I tussled over their names. Crotchrocket, Salt & Pepper, even the Powder Puff Girls circled the name bin. We landed on the ever-lasting, Thunder & Lightning. The pooches would learn to be my outdoor bodyguards, sending them first to find snakes in the tall grass. One day, they warned the whole family of a mountain lion in the garage who shoved my house cat, Domino, to the rafters. Alerting my sister with continual barking, the big kitty’s paw swiped at my dogs prior to escaping the GFP. Yikes, talk about the game “2 Truths and 1 Lie.” Nobody believes that one.
Thunder, unfortunately, broke her hips from a driver’s wheel 5 years ago, leaving Lightning as the sole sister. The death of Lightning’s companion led to moving inside the house during the frigid winter months, which if you’ve ever owned a dog, you understand there is no going back. Lightning would become a forever house dog in her fragile age.
How We Said Goodbye
When I moved back from Omaha in 2020, I lived with my mom for a few weeks. In the heat of the pandemic, I had to learn what was meant by “work-from-home.” For me, it meant sitting at the kitchen table on Microsoft Teams, waiting for my mom to take her lunch break as she was deemed “essential” by the government. Lightning was my first virtual coworker. That dog put up with my workday shenanigans as I blared music from the Alexa speaker and spoke to the animal about the recent healthcare marketing tactics. As years drug on, the gray surrounding her face continued to grow, revealing the ugly truth of what was to come. Most dogs have ailments at that age; a broken bone, a depleting liver or kidney, or arthritis so bad they can’t move. My puppy had a foggy brain. We believe she had dementia with barking at all hours of the night and oxygen skipping a few beats to her noggin. She was confused. She was anxious. She was scared. While our decision seemed rushed in the middle of a work day, it wasn’t. We, as pet owners, are never ready for that day. No time will seem right. At first, I had accepted the reality and blocked the pain as if I was just going into town to grab a new deodorant. To drop off my returned Amazon package. To pick up my Grandma and go to the Colome Homecoming parade. Then, the sorrow hit. As my brother grabbed a shovel, my mom and I trudged forth to town telling each other what a better day this will be for our dependable buddy. No more pain. No more suffering climbing up steps. And the best yet, reuniting with her sister.
My heart breaks knowing that I’ll never be greeted by those four paws as I drive up the driveway. However, I take pride (and mom should too) in the life those doggy-os had. They were the best at playing defense in backyard basketball. They were fantastic protectors of two women, living alone in the country. They will forever be a part of that lawn with all the landmines they left for us to dodge. My friend, Morgan, passed along a quote to help ease the tear fall. It goes:
“People are born so that they learn how to live a good life- like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?” The four-year-old continued, “Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don’t have to stay as long.”
Many people will say diamonds are a girl’s best friend. I beg to differ. I think dogs are. Thunder, Lightning, thank you for loving the weird girl all through her growing up days. You will be greatly missed at the foot of the bed.
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