My buddy Hank was recently diagnosed with inoperable cancer. The tumors in his intestines and liver are too numerous to treat. I have watched him lose weight and hoped it was just old age, but deep inside, I knew it was something much worse. Hank is actually my son’s dog, or at least he was. Jonathan adopted Hank while he was still in graduate school. At the time, I still had my beautiful beagle Trapper, who I will describe more later. Trapper went to the Rainbow Bridge, just as Jonathan was finishing school. He moved back while looking for a job and just like that, Hank became mine as much as my son’s. Jon was clearly Hank’s person when he arrived at my house, but I was a close second and before I knew it, I became his person too. Hank didn’t discriminate. His heart is big enough to hold us all. I realized as I was writing this that I alternate between the past and present tenses. I guess, part of me is starting to let go, hoping it will make things easier when the time comes, although it never does.
Hank was not a pedigree….I dislike the word “mutt” but he was a mix. When he was rescued, he was three years old and we think he is part chow and part shepherd. He has one ear up and one ear down which gives him such an adorable look.
He was the sweetest dog from the beginning. Up until he got sick, he never had an accident in any house he lived in or visited. He rarely barked. He loved everyone. He loved playing with his toys and took special joy in finding the squeaker in each toy and disemboweling them until the offensive squeaker was removed. At that point, he lost interest in that particular toy and moved on to the next one. Jon was said of Hank “He destroys toys as though it is his job”, which was so true. He also loved chasing his ball. He rarely brought it back to us, but would instead come near us, ball in mouth and then turn and run until we chased him. He loved to go for walks and would nudge us on the path if we started to turn back home. He, like most dogs, had a sixth sense about those he loved, which was most people. When my mother came home from the hospital in those last days, Hank jumped up on the bed and lay protectively but gently over her bringing the first real smile we had seen on her face in a long time. When I was sick, he would gently lay next to me, head on my lap watching over me. He was that kind of dog. He would run to the window when he heard the garage door go up and watch as we pulled into the garage, turning and running down the stairs to greet us as soon as our car disappeared inside. There were so many things Hank did that made our lives happier and now, he is going to be leaving us. And I wonder how I will wake up each day without him. I know I will. I have felt the same way too many times throughout my life, but still each time, I wonder how my heart can continue to beat, when it is in so much pain.
My beagle Trapper, was another one who took a part of my heart with him. I will dedicate a blog post to him on his own at some point, but he was a rescue we got for “the kids” but in no time, I became his human. He followed us from Texas to Virginia. He lived to be 16 and his last few months were tough. Like Hank, Trapper also started losing weight. He also had no energy, but as far as I knew, it was just old age. I knew without a doubt, that Trapper only stayed that last year because he knew I needed him. I was going through that painful divorce. My younger son was having difficulty and was not in a good place. My life was in turmoil and I know that Trapper sensed that and stayed with me, longer than his body probably should have stayed. I bought doggie stairs for him so he could still get up on my bed and snuggle up next to me, as he had done for years. A year after my divorce, when things were going better, I would look into his eyes and say “Trapper, I love you, but if you need to go I’m okay now. You don’t have to stay for me” and he would look at me and lick my hand. One day his heart could no longer keep his body whole and it was time. Putting him to sleep was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I suspect it will be the same with Hank.
And that gave me pause. My mother passed away in December. It was very difficult to watch her slowly evaporate before our eyes in the months or years leading up to her death. When hospice was finally called in, it was painful, but there was also a sense of relief that she was no longer afraid and suffering. I cried, but I had been crying for years…Each crisis brought new tears and new heartache. When death came, I took charge. Helping my father. Planning her funeral with my brothers. Writing her eulogy. I even managed to deliver the Eulogy without breaking down. And yet, talking about putting Trapper to sleep and having to face the same with Hank, brings fresh tears to my eyes and water-logged words clog my throat. Why is that? Did I love my mother or my younger brother who also passed away, less than I loved my dogs? Of course not. So why then, is saying goodbye to our pets often more difficult in so many ways?
Could it be because they are with us for such a short time and we feel cheated?? And while we’re on that subject…why do turtles live to be over 100 years old while dogs barely make it into their teens? I have nothing against turtles but I mean, come on!! But I digress. Is it because we can talk to our loved ones about our feelings, tell them how much we love them, help alleviate their fears and if they are people of faith, be comforted, knowing they believe in an afterlife where we will meet again? Animals, don’t have that cognitive ability to understand what is happening to them. We can’t tell them “we’ll see you in heaven”. We can’t make them understand how much they meant to us and will continue to mean to us. We can’t take away their fears. They don’t understand what is happening to them. They don’t know we are not coming with them on that last day. All we have is their loving eyes and trusting hearts as we hold them one last time and assure them we love them.
I don’t know why it is so difficult, but it is and I am sobbing as I type this, knowing that very soon, Hank will be joining Trapper and my childhood dog, Daisy on the Rainbow Bridge, and like heaven….I pray it is a real place, because just the thought of it not being real, stabs through the deepest recesses of my heart. Seeing my pals on the Rainbow Bridge and having them escort me over it to see my mom and brother and everyone I loved who has moved on, is the only way I can get through that final trip to the vet. So each time I see a rainbow, I make a point of looking up and smiling as I imagine their faces looking down at me, their tails frantically wagging their bodies, their ears on high alert, their eyes bright in anticipation and surrounded by tennis balls waiting to be thrown, when we are finally united again.
New Endings 