I first met the dog that would become my crazy-ass companion, my reason for getting up, the bain of my existence, the love of my f*cking life, when my dearly departed sister and my pesky-brother-in-law called me and told me that they saw a 'special dog of the week' ad from the local shelter. It wasn't the local humane society, but another another shelter run by the city. Being of not-so-sound mind, and thinking I needed something to keep me accountable, I said 'come get me and let's go look'.
She wasn't there when we got there. She was out for a walk with a shelter worker. So I looked at a parade of needy dogs that I really couldn't take because I had stairs, and although I would have taken all of them in a heartbeat most of them couldn't have managed stairs. So, we left.
And then, as fate would have it, there she was. Hanging out at the side of the building with the worker, who was having a smoke break. I took her for a walk. Asked her if she wanted to come home with me, and that was that.
I should probably tell you that she tried to jump out the window of the car a few times on the way home. She was as messed up as I was at the time.
So, we get home. She runs up the stairs, I let her into my apartment, she jumps up on the couch and starts barking. I remember standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at my sister with a dazed look on my face, to which she laughed and said 'good luck!' And then she left me with this dog. I wanted a non-shedding, non-barking dog. I left with a walking carpet that never shut up.
This dog became my life. She followed me from the big city to the little city; from breakdowns to highs and everything in between; to living with my ma to living in our own place; to settling in to a routine; to all the ups and downs that life brings. She never, ever once shunned me, no matter what I did (except that one time we got into the fight about trying to give her a pill). She followed me everywhere, including down children's slides. She wagged her tail when I got mad at her, which really annoyed me but always made me smile. She had a natural smile on her face, which made me laugh. In the mornings, she had the uncanny ability to wake me up just by staring at me, and when I finally opened my eyes to say 'there's my girl!', she'd lay on top of me for an epic cuddle session.
She climbed roofs and made peace with the local groundhog. She loved swimming and would lie in any size of puddle she saw. She also was addicted to snow, lying there for hours in it to cool her belly and soothe her joints. I remember when I was still running in the big city, our route went past an arena. I had her off leash at the time, and she would always head to the pile of snow and ice left by the zamboni. I'd stop and let her have her little rest before carrying on.
In her later years, when I had to get stairs beside the bed because she couldn't jump, and when she could no longer get up and meet the people in the neighbourhood, she found a place in the front yard, where she would bark hello to people passing by (everyone in the neighbourhood knew her and would say hello back), scare the people that were selling stuff we didn't need, and generally just be happy wagging her tail for no reason other than she was loved, fed, warm and able to bark. She was the happiest dog ever.
The tumour started in August, so small that the vet thought it was some sort of calcification. Within a month it had grown to the size of a plum, then a tennis ball, a baseball, and finally to the size we couldn't describe. And by then it was too late. The sh*t of it all was that the tumour itself didn't bother her, it was everything else that went with it.
I was warned it could burst, and if it did, it would 'like Christmas'; a lot of blood, everywhere, and if it burst she would need to be euthanized right away . We went over the options. She was 13; removing it wasn't a consideration because of her age, and because they found numerous other tumours growing there was a good chance we'd be right back to this situation .
She made the decision for me she. I was out with a friend of mine for brunch on Christmas Eve. Ironically enough, I had just finished telling her about my girl, when I got a call from from my mom saying simply 'you need to come right now, Roxy needs you.'
The tumour had partially burst. There was blood all over the snow where she has been laying. It looked like someone had been murdered, and the thing hadn't even burst completely. What made it worse was that when I got there, she was laying in the snow, front paws crossed, tail wagging, happy as ever to see her momma. I picked her up and carried her into the house, where I laid with her. The decision had been made, and I wasn't ready.
She died Christmas Eve, after the very compassionate and caring vet and technician made a special trip in to see this through. To say I was upset is an understatement. I openly sobbed the entire time, watching the life leave my loving companion who had seen me through so much. I loved this dog, deeply. And in that moment, I felt I hadn't deserved her. She had never, ever let me down. Drove me nuts? Yes. But never let me down. And I felt I was letting her down.
I miss that pure bred mutt every day. She talked too much, ate too much and drank too much, just like her momma. The house is quiet when I get home. It's missing something. My Mom and her dog are mourning as much as I am. But, she'll always be around. I'll be finding clumps of her hair for a long time, I hope.
Roxy, you are forever loved. Thank you for giving me some of the best years of my life. I'll miss you forever. Love, your momma. Xxoo
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