I just have to get this out there...it's one of those things that, even though it's tough to handle, I feel better sharing with others. It also lays the foundation for Roger - which I have mentioned in a previous post. Just a warning though, I'm going to be extremely detailed (not graphic, but detailed) if this bothers you, you may want to hold off reading this. It took me 2 days to write this because every time I sat down to try, I started bawling uncontrollably...
My mom brought a little black and tan
doxie home when I was in the first grade (I was six at the time). From day one I was super attached to the little guy even though my mom had to keep telling me not to "
smufficate" him (a combination of smothering and suffocating for those new to the term). I was actually the one to name him because I thought, in all of my six year old wisdom, that his breath smelled unmistakable of tortilla chips. So for nearly 16 years, our little chippy roamed, protected, accompanied, and loved our family...and we loved him back. This is important because Chip was with me for the majority of my re-callable childhood - I can't remember much of my life before him. He was my best friend through elementary school, my biggest supporter during the awkward phases of middle school, my shoulder to cry on during the dark ages of my high school years, and was my favorite thing to come home to during and after I graduated college. Like I said, I don't have many memories before him.
Directly after we graduated Brendan and I lived with my parents for a few weeks 'til we found a place of our own. At the had just moved out, but we only lived around 10 minutes away from my parents' house. Every Thursday I'd go over after I got my allergy shots to spend time with my family, and I'd be lying if I said that seeing Chippy wasn't one of the things I was most looking forward to as I made the 10 minute drive from the doctor's. Every time before I left, knowing full well his age and that his time wasn't going to last forever because he was nearly 16 years old, I made sure to say a special goodbye to him - where I would tell him that I loved him very much, and that he is the best dog ever. It was my way of making sure he knew how much he meant to me.
This particular week, I decided that since I had come over Sunday, and since I wanted to make mashed potatoes for dinner with Brendan instead of eating with my family that night, that I'd simply stay home and come over later that weekend. This is a decision I have come to regret. That Friday, I called my mom because we were supposed to go to the MVD to have my car's title officially transfered to my name and I had wanted to get our plans in order for the next morning. I'm usually extremely perceptive of people's tones, especially my mother's, but this time it wasn't at all hard to tell that something was very wrong.
"Is everything OK?" I asked.
"No sweetie, it's not" (tears unmistakably choking off her words - and at this point I'm fearing the worst, because the only other time I've heard my mom cry is when her dad died)...it's Chip...he's dead."
"WHAT!?!???!!?" "
"I found him in the pool...he drowned honey."
The world stopped. It was like that scene from Saving Private Ryan where Tom Hanks is on the beach and everything slows down to a near halt as he looks around while trying to figure out what the hell is happening to him. I was driving home along Hayden Road because it was a Friday, I had just gotten off work for the week, and until 30 seconds ago, I was in one of those blissful moods where everything is going right; I
was on top of the world...and in less than 30 seconds, I was violently yanked backwards against a wall like Linda Blair was in a scene from
The Exorcist. I didn't know how to handle it....I started cursing, crying...
"Are you sure?" - This seems to be the question everyone asks when the get news like that...as if the person relaying the news wouldn't make absolutely sure before telling someone something of this magnitude (unless it was some cruel horrible prank). She was sure.
I drove over as fast I could. As I pulled into the driveway, tears rolling down my face my mom came out to meet me. We hugged without saying a word...just the labored breathing that comes with the type of crying that's nearly a seisure because you're shaking so hard. We walked inside...then, as if the flood gates hadn't already been opened...my mother started talking.
"Kristen, I'm so sorry....I let him outside to go potty, and...and...he always lets me know when he wants to come back in....and...and...this time he didn't... A little back information on this, is that Chip, even though he was now deaf and mostly blind, still knew the layout of the house and backyard - and ALWAYS scratched at the door to be let out, and barked when he wanted back in. He had also fallen in the pool several times, but he always knew where the steps where and made his way there (the top step was a large one, in only about 6 inches of water) to sit and bark until someone could pick him out of the water.
I'm not sure what was so different this time...this is something my family has gone over time and again in our heads why he didn't make it to the step, why he didn't bark etc.... Maybe because it was a hot Arizona July day and the heat just took it out of him because he was so old and couldn't handle it anymore...at this point it's just speculation that does us no good. Regardless, I could tell that my mom thought it was her fault for not noticing that he was in trouble. (I don't blame here though, there are just to many variables that were out of her control, and blaming get you nowhere in a time like this.) She said she found him floating right by the step...he was so damn close...but it wasn't enough. He had released his bowels right by the step, and now there was nothing any of us could do.
When she showed me to the back porch, where she had laid him to dry off, I couldn't help myself. The sight of my dog...my best friend that was content just to be in the same room with me for nearly 16 years of his life (it was July 25th and he was born on August 10th)...just laying there with his eyes open and his body stiff as a board was more than I could bear. I burst into tears as I sprinted over to his motionless little body.
"Oh Chippy..."
We immediately took him to a creamator. My parents and I had disscussed what we would do when inevitably, he would pass...and I felt comfort knowing that we'd get him back. It was a long drive from my parent's place. The guy was located in Glendale, so we had to take the 101 in rush hour traffic, from Scottsdale; needless to say, it was the longest most disparaging 45 minutes of my life. As we pulled in to the lot, a young man came out and showed us to the office where, who we thought was his father, the man who owned the place sat. Apparently, the gentleman had stayed open an hour later than normal to help us out...it was very kind of him.
The young man wheeled out a tiny gurney...oh God this couldn't be happening. "Dammit...I'm not ready to say goodbye," I thought to myself. It was so surreal, like a dream that I was stuck in and couldn't get out of. We had wrapped him in blankets to transport him since he was still wet. My mom, tears still in her eyes (eventually we would all dry up from dehydration) placed our little guy on the gurney, blankets and all. My mom, my sister, and I then piled into the tiny office where we went over the morbid details...the cost...the process...etc. The man assured us also, especially since we paid extra, that he would be alone in the chamber, so we would get only his ashes back. That was one of the only comforting things I had heard all day. Several times throughout the conversation, my sister and I walked outside to be with Chip. Arm in arm we cried some more... I placed my right hand over his little floppy ears and rubbed it the way I always did because he liked that so much that he'd put his entire weight into my hand the way a human leans into someone giving them a massage.
"I love you so much Chip."
All the while I was thinking, I knew this was coming but did it have to end like this? He died scared and alone. What if...what if...what if... I cursed some more. At least it was painless, but I had always imagined being there with him whenever he passed if it came us needing to put him to sleep. Better yet, I had always hoped that he would just go peacefully in his sleep...inside... warm in his little bed with everyone who loved him...not cold, wet and alone in the damned back yard. Knowing that was one of the hardest things for us to deal with...
The man and my mother came out. "I'm sorry about your pet," he said.
"Yeah...me too," I manged to choke out.
"OK, girls, do you want to say goodbye." My mom was red in the face, but was trying to do the right thing by not having us draw it out...but OF COURSE we wanted to say good bye...we just didn't want to leave after we said it, because if we left, it was the final confirmation that this was indeed real, and that Chip was indeed gone.
I looked down at him...peacefull...quiet... I gave him one last hug.
"I love you Chip...God I miss you so much...I'm sorry for not coming over Thursday...please forgive me. I love you so much." I was standing over
We negotiated with my sister who wanted to keep one of the blankets we had brought him in. So with one wet blanket in our hands, we said good bye...I was gratefull for the few extra seconds that gave me because it meant I got to be with him that much longer...
"We love you Chip" - we all managed to get out in a distorted unison broken by tears. We knew we needed to go...and that drawing out the process of mourning over his body wasn't going to get us anywhere, so we reluctantly got back in her Camry, slowly backed out of the lot and drove away slowly back to the main road.
As we drove away, I looked over my left shoulder and caught one last glimpse of my little dachshund laying on the gurney just before the young man closed the gate. "Goodbye Chippy...I love you with my heart and soul," I whispered to him..."Goodbye little friend."
