Dog Walkin’ Wellington
When “Forever” Isn’t…
By Barbara Phillippi
Dear Readers,
This month’s column wasn’t planned, wasn’t what I’d decided to submit. Yesterday, I had Woody, my 15-year-old boy, my first Jack Russell Terrier, “put down,” as the saying goes. I’d been torn for several weeks, watching him work harder and harder to try to get back to “normal,” not knowing how to fix how he felt, struggling to be the good dog he’d always been.
Faced with a long trip in the car, a few days for him in a damp crate (he was incontinent), I had to make a decision. 1400 miles wasn’t going to be a picnic for either of us. But at journey’s end, our vet (and friend) would come to the house for “the procedure,” and Woody could be buried under the maple trees, under the moss, in the woods where he’d once loved to hunt. I poured out my heart to my friend, Judy, who offered to go with me, if I made the euthanasia decision.
I made a phone call to his vet… Almost $200, with “communal ashes,” more for private cremation. Who knew? PBC Animal Care and Control offers pet euthanasia for $50, but you can’t be with your pet, and that wasn’t an option for me. Peggy Adams will do private euthanasia, and I chose this for Woody. I signed the papers, and then we went into a private room. Judy, holding the box of Kleenex, cried with me, and I held my beloved dog close as he left me.
I want her to know how special she is, this Judy, who loves me, who knew my dog, who did what casual friends don’t do; have your back when it’s painful for them as well.
To Judy: I can’t ever, ever, express my gratitude for your love and compassion yesterday. Without judgment, you helped me make the right decision, with your observations about Woody’s deterioration (which I knew in my heart were true) and words of wisdom about his traveling north with me. It would have been just a few uncomfortable days on the road, a brief delay of the inevitable. That I ever selfishly wanted him to struggle on disgusts me now.
The days leading up to “the act” were more agonizing than I realized, harder, crazier, than the way I felt just last evening, after it was over, and, ‘though heartbreaking, the emptiness of his crate this morning. I will learn to be at peace with the decision, to put the guilt in the rear view mirror – it will take time, but I trust that it will happen. Woody’s death itself takes nothing away from how that wonderful dog and I felt about each other, or our years together. Thank you, Judy, for helping me, with love, to see the whole picture, and holding Woody and me in your arms, and your heart.
RIP, Fox Island Hollywood (Woody)
05/30/1997 – 06/11/2012
I’ve been asked over the years about the Rainbow Bridge “poem” – it’s been very comforting to many pet owners who have lost their beloved animals. Here’s a link, and the text itself.
http://petloss.com/rainbowbridge.htm
Rainbow Bridge
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together…
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