The Goodbyes Get Harder

Martha was on the euthanasia list at a public shelter a year and a half ago. When I first looked at that list, I liked her right away. She was actually smiling in her shelter photo. She was a happy camper at the shelter. She enjoyed being around so many other dogs and she absolutely loved the visitors that passed through. I always choose one dog to pull for on the eu list and that week it was Martha. I was sure she would find a home or a rescue so I started concentrating my efforts on the pitbull. I tagged the last two remaining dogs that week. I didn't even know which two that would be at the time. I was surprised when one of the two was Martha! In fact, I made the comment "for once I get the dog I would have chosen"! Looking back, I can just see Martha in that shelter. Rising to meet each new visitor. Offering her sweet smile.....and being passed over time and time again. Then passed over by rescue after rescue. Knowing Martha, it would not have gotten her down. She was along for the ride - she loved every minute of life, no matter where she was. Martha was a sweetheart. She had the softest fur - she was like a small teddy bear. She also had the cutest ears, they folded over on the tips. She had warm welcoming eyes and was always smiling. She was a senior, had some kidney problems and a significant heart mumur. She also had an oddity of attacking her own foot. Every time she tried to eat, that rear foot would start sneaking up to her bowl. She would give a low growl, but her foot would not heed the warning. So she would give a more demanding growl but that foot went undetered.....finally it was on and Martha was growling at her foot and attacking it. We were afraid to place Martha with other dogs - although Martha did not have an ounce of aggression - we were leary that another dog might view her foot antics as aggression and attack her. So, for awhile, Martha had a suite to herself. Then one day Weston arrived. Poor Weston. He had been beaten and mistreated his whole life. He was afraid of his own shadow. He would walk out on the porch and the dogs in the yard would jeer at him......calling him "chicken" I am sure. He would run back inside and then you would hear Martha - obviously setting the yard dogs straight. None of them ever gave her any lip. (I think they all thought she was nuts). She and Weston embarked on a beautiful friendship and were soon inseperable. She was the wind beneath his wings and he accepted her nightly brawls with her foot and everything rocked on for a year and a half. Then last Tuesday night, Martha did not rise to greet me. I knew right away she was sick. I could see it in her eyes. We called the vet in for an emergency visit. Martha had fever and fluid had built up around her heart which had allowed pnemonia to settle in suddenly. So, Martha stayed in the hospital two days and returned home Thursday night. Instead of staying in her suite with Weston, she stayed in my son's room so we could monitor her special prescription food and water intake and give her the daily medicines. I went in to refreshen her pads and give her fresh water and her pill. She raised her head and looked at me, then drank her water and took her pill. I left to finish the medication round (we had six other sick doggies). I heard my son talking to her and then he called for me. Just that quick, Martha was gone. For Martha, the sunset at 5:20pm on Saturday, March 13, 2010. I thought about her being the last dog on that shelter list what seemed like so long ago - the one who had gone unchosen, unwanted and unclaimed. What a great dog everyone had missed out on and how blessed I had been that she managed to find her way to our rescue. Martha was something else - even with her quirks - she was a happy, sweet and loving lady. I had to tell Weston the news last night. I swear, if I could choose any second language to speak and understand it would be "Canine". Weston has been looking for Martha for days and it is heartbreaking. I told him that she loved him very much and that she would miss him dearly but that she would see him again one day and that she said to keep his head up and be brave. Of course, he didn't understand all that - although, I know he knows something is terribly wrong. He is getting increasingly ancy about her return and I am going to have to think hard on what I can do to comfort him. She was his friend - long before he trusted me as a friend, he trusted Martha. That 18 months is ten and a half dog years. Over ten years of sharing their life every day. Bless their hearts.