Waiting for the Angels

Waiting for the Angels

Orla - October, 2007:

Oh my goodness; here she comes. Here she comes!

I am so happy it is her day! Although I don’t know much about days except they come after sleeps, I was thinking it must be time for her to be here. I keep an eye on her and wait while she checks kennel cards to see who has walked and who has not (as she was trained to do). I do not wait patiently; I jump as high as I can and bark as loud as I can. 

I like her so much. She is the BEST volunteer ever. She takes me for long walks on the trail and to the enclosed exercise area and lets me run as hard and long as I want. Then she tries to teach me some manners. She offers me treats, and I want to do things to please her. She is my kind of person. She understands that I am a wild child, and I think she is, too. She is patient with me, though I am a little on the crazy side. I hope she will decide to take me home with her soon.

Orla - Early November, 2007:

I am out in the lobby of the Shelter, and I see her burst through the door. She is looking for me because I am not in my kennel. I know she is happy when she sees that I have found a family and am about to go home with them. Every doggie deserves a loving family. I know she cries when she sees me leave the shelter with them, because we both already know that I am hers and she is mine.

Two days later:  

I see the look on her face when she finds me back at the shelter. Sheer glee! My new family has returned me to the shelter because they “have to move.” I think they just don’t understand me.

Orla - Next Day:  

OMG! She is doing the paperwork today. I’m going home with her! I know we will be best friends.

Orla - A few days later:

I love my new home and my mommy. There are several furry inhabitants, called kitties, that I need to chase. Mostly, the kitties just turn around and smack me in the face when I chase them. It’s a game for me. I hope they like it, too. 

One of the kitties, Sneakers, the oldest and shiest, is running from me. Mommy is trying to help her, but her leg is caught in the Kitty Towers where they live. Now Mommy is crying and trying to decide what to do.

Orla - Next Day: 

Sneakers is in a crate, with a huge cast on her leg. I think that is my fault, and I am so very sorry. I’m trying to be super sweet and not bother the kitty. Mommy’s not mad at me, and she still takes me for walks and gives me treats. I love them both so much. I’m trying so hard to be a good girl.

Orla: 

Another human lives at our house, too. He is tall. He calls her “Mom.” She calls him “Kyle.” He is just as sweet as she is, although a little more low key. I can tell he loves me, too. I stand at the back door every afternoon and wait for him to come home from work. I can hear his car in the driveway. I don’t bark; I sit and wait. When he gets settled in a bit I go get on his bed, flop over on my back, and wait for a belly rub. He gives the most delicious belly rubs.

Months later: 

Mommy is taking me to a grand event called “Tails at Twilight.” I think it’s to raise money for food, medicine, and other things the many doggies and kitties at the shelter need. It’s a fancy event. Mommy dresses me up in a pink sweater with a faux fur collar. I look pretty sharp. She dresses in a shiny, silver jacket and lots of fake jewelry. She looks sharp too, but, you know, I’m biased.

Orla - at Tails at Twilight:

The D.J. calls Mommy and me up the podium to be introduced. He tells everybody that I am an infamous, jumper and kisser. So, I have to do it; I jump up into Mommy’s arms, lean over, and give the D.J. a big, fat kiss right on his mouth. Everybody loves it. They laugh out loud and applaud me.

Orla - Late December 2019: 

Mommy and I went to see my VET for a check-up. She has noticed that I have a swelling on one side of my neck, and that my bark sounds a little different. The VET takes X-rays, but doesn’t find anything unusual. I am, reluctantly, taking pills.

Orla, Early February, 2020:

I am having such a hard time breathing. There’s something called a “cancer” caught in my throat. One of the doctors Mommy takes me to see says it is “inoperable.” Mommy cries all the way home. She takes me to other doctors, and as with some human cancers, she thinks the treatment is worse than the cancer. Now she loves on me and spoils me even more than usual. I worry that she cries so much.

Orla - April 24, 2020: 

I am having a particularly bad morning. Mommy is on the phone, crying. Mommy gives me my medicines, and I slip off upstairs to take a nap. Mommy comes and finds me. She has my leash and offers me a walk. Though I do not feel well, I can’t turn this opportunity down. As it turns out, she and my boy are taking me for a ride. That’s ok; I love a ride. I recognize my doctor’s office when we drive up. I don’t know why Mommy and the boy are crying. I trot inside and jump up on the scale, as per usual. The doctor’s helpers take me to a room right away, which is unusual.

One of the kind ladies takes me to the back and puts a needle in my arm. She puts a bandage around it so it will be protected. The nice VET comes in and runs some warm fluid into my arm. I am getting sleepy and I can finally breathe easily. They take me back to my room where Mommy is waiting for me. Her eyes smile though she is still crying. I think she is crying because I am relaxed and breathing easier. The VET comes in and changes the medicine. I have to nap now. I give my mommy a big tail wag to show her I am okay. I have to sleep now. Soft, sweet sleep; no more struggling to breathe; no more pain. I smell my mommy. I love her smell. I taste the salty tears on her face. I feel her soft touch on my face and paws. I hear Mommy whispering, “I love you Orla-pie.” “I love you Orla-pie” When she says that, I’m wrapped in a safe cocoon; her voice is a warm blanket. I’ve been waiting to hear her soft voice. “You are my baby girl.” “There will never be another Orla.” “I love you too, Mommy,” I try to say. I don’t know if she hears it, but I do know that she feels it. “Good night, Mommy.” “Goodbye, Orla.” The other angels are here to hold you in their arms.

Mommy - Afterword - May 24, 2020: 

TO ORLA

Go run free in hills and dales

Where no leashes hold you back

Where your spirit prevails 

No fences to enclose you; 

No medicine to take

Just the wide-open spaces 

Where you win all the races

And the angels love you

And guard you in your sleep.

I thought I knew how much I’d miss you

If you left me on earth alone

But, I’ve cried you a river,

And the tears go on and on.

One month ago today

The world stood still as you went to sleep 

I watched you slip away

You took my soul, but it was already yours to keep.

I’m so very happy that you claimed me

At the shelter that day.

You made life wonderful to see 

My pal and friend all the way.

Your soul was full of love

and you gave it all away

To me.