Defeat, Death and Devastation

My five year old golden retriever died yesterday, and I am left totally devastated by the loss of my beloved family dog. Turns out that she did in fact have cancer, and my attempts to save her life with a veterinarian’s second opinion and treatment options did not help. We found out from blood test results that she was in a medical crisis on April 27, and only a short month later she died on May 30, 2008. Her life was very short, but in that time she was dearly loved. I am left to accept defeat with her health care and her untimely death.

It was obvious that the end was near for Holly, she was weak and refusing to eat or take her medication any longer. And I slept very poorly for that reason yesterday. I woke up early at 5 am and joined Holly in our sun room, the room Holly always sleeps in. She was sprawled out on the floor, looking out our floor-to-ceiling windows facing into the back yard, and she greeted me with only a single tail wag, resounding weakly off the wood floor. I laid down behind her and covered us both with a blanket, petting her and enjoying the same view for a peacefully long time. The sun was coming up and slowly illuminating our backyard, and I realized Holly and I were looking at her little kingdom together for the last time. She was warm, relaxed and her fur was silky soft to the touch. Holly’s world was small, just a family of four, a little brick bungalow by a park, and a tiny, fenced piece of land in Springfield, Illinois, but she loved her home and defended that yard with gusto. Any stranger in the alley or along the fence line would bring a deep, menacing bark from my sweet, timid dog. I was coming to terms with her impending fate while we watched the dawn of her last day, a fate that I unfortunately could not alter, but somehow this dawn we shared was beautiful. And as I continue to grieve for Holly’s death, I find comfort in this image and time we shared together.

She was such a beautiful, affectionate and loyal member of my family. We got her as a Christmas gift for my two daughters in December 2002, brought her into our home as a six week old puppy, and named her Holly because of the holiday season. She very quickly took over our household, chewing and digging her way into our hearts. She was overly loving with us, always wanted to be in the same room with us, always putting her paw or head on someone’s lap to be petted, or just laying at someone’s feet to be near them. But she was timid and shy with strangers, unwilling to give her affection until she was certain of their worth. She stealthily monitored and chewed whatever she could get out of our waste baskets, leading us to use garbage cans with lids or to place all the waste baskets up high out of her reach, and she had a preference for eating paper of any sort – kleenex, toilet paper, paper towels, wrapper paper or whatever else she was victorious enough to find. She also loved being petted on her rump, and this made her so happy that she would jump around and do a little tap dance we called the “Holly Hop”. She also could not be trusted with food laying out on countertops, and would take any chance alone in the kitchen to explore and devour any food we accidentally left out. She was a licker too, and if you let her like I did, would continue to lick up and down your arms and legs.

I will never forget Holly and hold the love and special bond we shared with me for the rest of my life. I do find some comfort in knowing that her suffering has ended, and now want to remember her time with us as an energetic and loving companion. Rest in peace, my furry little baby, you’ve left a mark on our hearts.