Posts
Where do I start? I haven’t had much of a desire to really
write for some time now, but am beginning to feel the urge again so here it
goes.
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| Baby Chinook 1997 |
Big news? The toughest thing I have ever had to do happened
in March when I had to say goodbye to my big black bear Chinook; a Labrador
Retriever/Chow Chow mix has been my companion and protector for 15 years
so her passing was very hard on me. I think of her often and sometimes forget
that she’s not sleeping in the other room. Towards the end that’s pretty much
all she did but that was okay, she earned that right. She remained the Alpha
Bitch right up until the end, ensuring that the younger animals remembered the
pecking order.
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| Nook and Cheyenne near Commencement Bay 2000 |
We were treating ‘Nookie for one type of cancer – a
liposarcoma which had become a huge growth hanging from her chest, below her
chin and had had great success with arresting its growth and reducing its size
by more than half. Wasn’t a terribly pleasant experience for anyone, but she
seemed to be recovering quite nicely. So much so that I didn’t even worry that
we were going on vacation for a week. Our veterinarian Debbie, an amazing
healer, insisted that Chinook stay with her during our absence and it seemed
like a pretty good idea so we arranged for her to pick Chinook from our pet
sitter the following day.
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| Chasing tennis ball in the ocean |
As Debbie told it, Chinook didn’t do very well at first with
the move, but seemed to bounce back and reestablished her place at the top of
the social hierarchy of that house. You see, Chinook stayed with her once
before after a surgery and made herself at home. We knew there was a connection
after Debbie told about how after the previous surgery Chinook climbed three
flights of stairs from the basement so that she could sleep next to Debbie’s
bed on the second floor the last time she was there. This time Chinook
immediately bonded with “Remington” a young Irish wolfhound Debbie had recently
rescued. As she told it, they would stay close to each other throughout
Nook’s stay.
When we returned, Chinook was back home and despite moving slowly she seemed quite happy about our return. However, all was not well. Almost
immediately I noticed Chinook had an increased thirst and a swollen abdomen,
this coupled with a general lethargy suggested that she was in trouble and we
quickly called Debbie to come check her out. Always a good patient, Chinook
allowed the vet to draw a sample of fluid from her belly with barely a flinch. Debbie’s shoulders
dropped as she drew off the blood-tinged fluid, simply stated that Chinook had
a cancer of the blood and that it was only a matter of time before she would succumb to the disease.
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| Cheyenne and Chinook running on Pacific beach 2001 |
Knowing that little else could be done other than make her
comfortable in her remaining hours we drained off as much of the fluid as we
could to relieve the swelling. Slowly at first and then like a fast-forwarded
film images of my life with Chinook and all the adventures we had flooded my
mind as I finally accepted that this was truly the end. Those stories are for
another time, this is about her final journey and how I came to find out she
was okay.
I slept by her side that final night listening to her
tortured breathing. I spoke softly to her and gently stroked her still shiny coat reminding her that I wasn’t
leaving again. I like to think my presence gave her comfort during those final
hours, leaving her side only for a few minutes at a time I carried her outside
for potty breaks and to let her lay in the sun on the grass like she always
loved to do during better times.
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| Chinook instinctively jumped up on the bed to comfort me as I recovered from some surgery in 2001. |
My mother came to visit later that day because she knew how
attached I was to my faithful companion, we shared some tears and chuckles over
shared memories as I began squirting drops of water into Chinook’s mouth –
eventually, even swallowing that little bit of water became too much for her as
she just allowed it to drip from her pale lips as I continued to pet and
comfort her.
Joleen called from work throughout the day for updates and
to let me know that she and her students were thinking of our Big, Black Bear and me. Finally the
day was done and Joleen returned from work to join my vigil. Shortly after Joleen’s
arrival, mom excused herself and bid Chinook a teary farewell.
The original plan was for Debbie to come by in the afternoon
to start the IV to euthanize Chinook a few hours later. However, upon her
arrival, Debbie suggested that Chinook would not last very long and that out of
compassion we should proceed without waiting as the end was likely be very
painful for Chinook.
With few options left, I agreed with a nod of my head and read
one of my favorite passages from the bible: the 2nd book of Timothy
4: 6-7
6
For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time for my
departure is near. 7 I have fought the good fight, I have finished
the race, I have kept the faith.
Joleen then played a song from her computer that her choir had been rehearsing about finding a corner in the sky as Debbie injected the milky fluid into Chinook’s vein. Almost
immediately her struggle for breath slowed and the raspy gasps slowed as Chinook slipped into a deep sleep her breathing slow and rhythmic. I
remember telling her that it was okay and that she could go now as I stroked
her velvety ear. Finally, after a second syringe full of medicine the breaths
and her strong heart ceased beating – my old, dear friend was gone.
Joleen and I sat with Chinook as Debbie excused herself to
go meet with the guy who was going to cremate Chinook. As disturbing as the
image of her being consumed by fire was for me I couldn’t think that there was
a better way to have Chinook with us until I go along that same path. When Cheyenne finally goes we will put them
into the same container and I plan on having them buried with me.
My sister Carol had offered a shady spot on their acreage to
bury ‘Nook, but I hated the thought of her being out there alone. I know, it
doesn’t make sense but we declined her generous and compassionate offer.
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| The hounds next to a river near Spokane |
As we sat there petting our now silent protector I could
feel her body grow cold as we waited for her final ride. As the tears dried we
talked about her life with us – good times and even some of the not so good
times I couldn’t help but wonder if she was truly okay, happy and no longer in
pain. She endured a lot of pain and stress in her life as she accompanied me
across the country to this her final home. She and Cheyenne had been my
(almost) constant companions for a very long time. Cheyenne, another rescue
from Tacoma had been with us for almost as long and he seemed a little lost
without his longtime pal.
All too soon Debbie arrived with the man from the crematory,
quietly picked Chinook up in the blanket she had been laying on and started to
carry her away as I reached out to stroke the top of her head one last time and
she was gone.
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| One of Joleen's students added a halo to this picture of Chinook taken a few years ago. |
Joleen and just about everyone else reminded me that Chinook
had a good life with me and I should be happy about the memories that we
shared. “I was a good doggy-daddy,” they reassured me. True enough but even
with a houseful of pets as we have, Chinook’s absence seemed to cause the house
to echo with emptiness.
The fatigue and stress had finally gotten the best of me and
I slept restlessly that night, waking many times before dawn broke on a sad, new day without my guardian.
Life continued as I went about my day. I hadn’t made any
coffee that morning so as I drove off to a doctor’s appointment I decided to
stop at a local coffee stand at the Mount Vernon Motel. The owners like me were military veterans and
when I did buy coffee I tried to always go to their business to support their
efforts.
As I pulled up to the kiosk, I kept mulling over Chinook’s
death and it really began to bother me that I didn’t KNOW that she was now pain free and okay. Was there a hear after for people let alone dogs? Was there a "Rainbow Bridge" like the poem where she would wait for me? Or was there nothing but darkness?
The coffee stand’s owner leaned out of the window and
interrupted my thoughts saying, “Here, this is yours you must have given it to
us by accident last time you were here,” as he handed me a coin. I looked down
at the gold disk and there was an angel stamped on it I was almost speechless
as I started to tell him that no it wasn’t mine but he had already turned
away to fill my coffee mug.
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| My very special "Penny from Heaven." |
I turned the coin over in my hand as a warm
feeling came over me. Chinook had sent me a
sign that she was safe, happy and was now looking over me as my guardian angel.
That revelation eased the ache in my heart as I pocketed my “penny from heaven.”
