Still Missing My Sweet Girl

It’s been
Six long months since you went away
Six long months since I’ve seen you play
It’s been
Six long months since since we cuddled in bed
Six long months since since I stroked your sweet head
It’s been
Six long months since I shared your joy
Six long months since I bought you a toy
It’s been
Six long months since your collar was worn
Six long months since my heart was torn
It’s been
Six long months since you moved on
Six long months since you’ve sung your song
It's been
Six long months since I soothed your fears
Six long months since days without tears
It’s been
Six long months since your body went still
Six long months since this void was filled
It’s been
Six long months since you left this life
Six long months since days without strife
It’s been
Six long months since your playful shove
Six long months since I lost my love

I still miss you as much as the first minute you left, my sweet Pegus. You're always in my thoughts and prayers. There will never be another like you and the world (my world, anyway) is a darker place for your absence. I'll love you forever.

My Sweet Golden Girl, Peggy

On a Golden day she came along
Hopeful but scared to face the unknown
Her courage and joy knew no bounds
Forgetting her past
While running the grounds
Her gentle heart was open to all
She knew cruelty, neglect
Realized some people were small
She gave us her love
And let us earn trust
A gift from above
She was so kind and just
Her spirit has flown
She will always be missed
Our sweet Golden girl
We released with a kiss

I've Lost My Beautiful Girl

I can’t believe I’m writing on a website but it seems this is a good place to express emotions that the rest of the world thinks are ridiculous.

I lost my sweet, gentle, beautiful little 8 year old Golden Retriever, Peggy, very suddenly 2 weeks ago. Okay, it was 2 weeks, 2 days and 40 minutes ago. She was always a bit fragile/delicate but that Friday morning, I was working from home and around 10:30,noticed she seemed to be having difficulty breathing. I grabbed her leash so I could rush her to the vet and of course, as soon as she realized she was going for a ride, she had a ‘miraculous recovery’. Her quick change confused me a bit but not wanting to take any chances, I put her in the car and called the vet to tell them we were on our way. After a through exam and numerous tests, the vet determined her lungs were inflamed and they diagnosed asthma - but aside from that, she was in perfect health. Okay, never heard of a dog having that (and I’ve been surrounded by animals my whole life) but fine, at least we know what’s causing the periodic breathing problems. I brought her home and she appeared to be fine.

Just before 7:00 that evening, I came home from a quick run to the store (my mother lives with me and I left her home with Mom since I’d noticed she had experienced a brief gasp-y event just before I left). The vet said the ‘asthma’ wasn’t severe and to just keep her quiet and have her rest if she seemed to be bothered by it, so it seemed best to leave her home. When I came in, for the first time in the (almost) 6 years she’s been with me, she didn’t greet me at the door. Or come out to greet me while I unloaded the car. When I finished bringing things in, I called to her and went to look for her. We finally connected in the living room – but she was acting a bit strange. After a very subdued greeting (unusual for her), I sat on the sofa, watching her walk toward the kitchen. At the entrance to the kitchen, she stopped, slowly turned around and with a glazed look in her eyes, started doing a Frankenstein-dog like walk back in my direction. She staggered a bit, walked past me and then took the long way to the kitchen. There, she staggered up to my mother, tried to make eye contact, gave a slight wag of her tail and then collapsed on the floor. In a panic, I grabbed the phone to call my neighbor for help (she’s a vet, just not practicing from an office right now) and ran to Peggy. My poor little girl was struggling to breath and was clearly in grave condition. My neighbor rushed over, listened to her heart, checked her other vitals and confirmed I needed to get her to Tufts Animal Hospital immediately. We carried her to the back of my Tahoe and I took off for the emergency room while Mom called to tell them her symptoms and to have a gurney ready.

At Tufts, they took her out of the back of my car and she looked so scared. I placed my hand on her head while running beside the gurney and she locked eyes with me, with a pleading look to not let them take her. As they went through the doors into the exam room, I had to remove my hand and with what little strength she had, she raised her paw, placing it on my coat sleeve and then pushed downward and tried to pull me toward her. Broke my heart. Twenty minutes later, they told me she was in congestive heart failure and they needed to insert a needled to drain fluid off her heart (turned out to be blood). They performed the procedure twice and then, after about 3 hours, let us go in to see her (my wonderful neighbors drove my mother to Tufts and my youngest brother, who called my mother just before she left the house, also rushed up).

My poor, sweet little girl looked like she had been hit by a train. She struggled to stand and when I went into the kennel run, pressed up against me and collapsed again. She was hooked up to numerous machines, monitoring her condition and pumping fluids into her to counter-act the shock. She was so weak and so scared. We were allowed to visit with her for a while (they never rushed us, God love them) and we were told we could come back to visit her again the next day. When it was time to go, I had to help move her back into the kennel and she looked so betrayed that I was leaving her. I wish there was a way to explain to animals that you sometimes don’t have options when you’re trying to help them. But like children, there’s just no way to help them understand. In Peggy’s case, I know she felt like we were abandoning her (she had a very difficult life before coming to us at the age of 2, she was treated very badly and separation anxiety was something we had worked through with her several years ago but I saw it in her eyes when we were leaving that night).

We left her just after midnight, got home at 12:25 and got a call from the ER Dr. at 12:45, telling us that she wouldn’t make it through the night. Apparently, they had ‘tapped her heart’ numerous times in that 25 minute period but the fluid kept filling up her heart sack almost as fast as they could empty it. I told the Dr we were on our way back up and to do what they could to keep her stable until we got there. Knowing there was no hope and she was going to suffer until they could no longer keep up with the blood, I asked him to have a shot ready but that we wanted to be with her when she passed. We arrived at 1:00 (blowing snow storm made it impossible to get there any faster).

When we arrived, he told us that after speaking with me, he had used a sonar instrument on her heart. They determined that she had tumors on her heart which were bleeding and there was nothing that could be done. Apparently my beautiful girl had undetected cancer of the red blood cells and aside from vague symptoms that never lasted long (and in spite of numerous vet visits over the past 2 years, with me insisting something was wrong), she always appeared to others to be in good health and fooled almost everyone.

When we (brother, mother and I) walked into the room, she was on a surgical table, covered by a bunch of blankets. Including the one I used to bring her to Tufts (my favorite blanket, figured my scent might give her some comfort in the scary setting). The Dr had told us that she was very weak from blood loss and sedated so we shouldn’t expect her to react to us when we went to her. She was facing away from the door and didn’t see us enter. The emergency room staff had placed 3 chairs at the head of the table for us. As I got near, I tossed my coat and purse on a chair and as I moved to her, softly said ‘hi my pretty girl’. Her eyes flew open, she lifted her head, began wagging her tail (under the weight of about 5 blankets she found enough energy to move her tail and you could hear the thunk, thunk, thunk of her tail against the table and see the blankets moving ), looked me in the eye and started whining a greeting to me and then turned her head to look at Mom and Scott as they approached. She looked both of them in the eye while continuing to whine her greeting (there was a specific pitch and cadence she always used when greeting us so we know it was her happy greeting and not pain behind the whine). She was so happy to see us it overrode the low blood pressure, sedation and exhaustion from all she’d been through. Even the Dr was surprised she was able to muster that much energy when she was so far gone. We spent a while patting and talking to her and giving her lots of kisses on her beautiful head. She laid down her head and closed her eyes with a contented sigh, with her head facing Mom in the chair directly in front of her. Scott and I stood on either side of her, to help make her feel surrounded by people that love her and would protect her.

The effort it took for her to do that seemed to drain her entirely. I honestly think she realized she was leaving and just wanted her ‘pack’ with her, instead of strangers in a strange setting. While she loved, and was loved by everybody who ever met her, the 3 of us were the ones she adored most in this world. She was always my shadow (I have a strong personality and know how to be firm without being angry or mean and I think she felt safest with me because of that) but if Mom wasn’t home, she would never comfortably settle until she returned. My bother comes to visit several times a week and she always had a special greeting for him that was a bit more excited than for others. That night, I finally realized that if we waited too long, she was going to go back into distress and I didn’t want her to pass that way – nor did I want her to endure another heart tapping. At 1:20 am on 2/26/2011, the Dr gave my beautiful 8 year old girl a shot and she quietly passed away with a sigh. And a big part of me passed with her. I’m not a crier but it’s been difficult to stop crying since that horrible night. Both Mom and I are lost without her.

What an amazing girl she was – the most gentle, loving, empathetic, patient, tolerant, accepting and compassionate soul I have ever met. She experienced abuse and neglect for the first 2 years of her life and still found the ability to keep a loving and joyful heart that she shared with others. She asked for virtually nothing. She was the lowest maintenance animal I have ever met, especially once we were able to get her past most of her fears (of which there were many when she first came to us). All she wanted was to be allowed to love others and to not be abused. She viewed anything else as ‘bonus points’ and was so grateful for anything we did for her. I know it’s cliché but she gave so much more to us than we gave to her. She was a living example of what we should all be. She accepted life and people with patience, tolerance and love. The fact that she was able to trust people again is a testament to her ability to forgive and live in the moment. I don’t know why I was so blessed to have her in my life, I know I didn’t deserve her but she was the most amazing gift. I wish I could focus on that instead of how much I miss her – and no, I would not trade one moment of my time with her to avoid this pain. I just wish I could stop the tears from flowing. I’ve been surrounded by animal family members all my life and loved them all. However, Peggy was different. I don’t know if it’s because of her background but she forged such a deep bond with me (us, actually) on a level I’ve rarely experienced with a person and never with an animal. She was one of the most amazing creatures God ever put on the planet. Now I just have to figure out how to go on without my constant companion, greatest support and best friend. I'm tried to insert an image so you can see what a beautiful dog she was - both inside and out but it failed. Her essence just shinned through and she smiled almost all the time.

Side note about how sometimes things are just meant to be - when I bought my house, I hadn't had a dog in 3 years (had been in a condo and they weren't allowed). My cat passed several months prior to buying the house and when I moved here, the former owners left behind a 17 year old cat (but didn't tell me, lucky for all of us that I love animals and took him in without knowing he actually lived here before me). Anyway, I wanted a dog but Mom, who's home all day - unlike me, I was working 14 hour days then - didn't have the energy for a puppy. We agreed that getting an older dog would be best. At that time, my niece was 2 years old so I decided that a 2 year old dog, from a kid friendly breed, would be the best way to go - that's how I decided on a Golden. I got the WantAd, took 3 numbers to call and gave 2 to Mom to call. None of my numbers were answering when we started calling but the first one she called was to a breeder who told her the 2 year old dog was very blonde, to which she relied, 'so's my daughter.' The next thing the breeder said was 'her name is Peggy', to which my mother replied 'so's my daughter! Hold that dog for us, she has my daughters name on her and is meant for us!' So, Lady Pegasus, who was known as Peggy came to live with us shortly after. There are 2 morals to the story - 1) if an animal is already branded with your name, it's meant to be yours and it's always fun signing cards From: Peggy The Human and Peggy The Dog 2) don't assume that dealing with a breeder will ensure that the animals are valued and treated properly. This breeder was not a puppy mill but she may as well have been for all the damage they did to my sweet girl before she came to us.

Sorry for the long post and thank you to anyone who had the patience to read it.

Peggy The Human