The Worst Day Of My Life . . .

   The snow alongside the road at one time - in the never-ending winter – was almost ten feet tall. The snowplows had pushed it off the road for months, piling it higher every time. A dirty white depressing fence.

            Now it was springtime. As the temperatures finally – finally -increased, almost all the snow had disappeared. They said it about spring every year, “I thought it’d never get here.” This is especially true for northern states.

            As the fence of snow decreased it became darker. There was less snow and more road grime left. Now is was only a fraction of its original mountain, only two feet high.

            I’m not sure why I looked in that direction, or why I looked into a small hole in that particular pile of snow. It was across the road, and there they were; a barely visible pair of eyes, staring out through the hole. My morning walk took me down this sidewalk each day.

            I stood there and pondered what animal it might be. Raccoon? Opossum? Cat? The eyes were locked on mine and appeared to be shaking. I’m an animal lover at heart. I’ve regretted that from time to time. I’d rescue a poisonous snake to save its life or defend one animal from another.

            It would have bothered me the rest of the day – or longer – if I didn’t find out what owned those eyes.

            I crossed the road and silently peered over the snowbank. My heart sank. There was a lump in my throat and my eyes teared. It was a small dog, dripping wet and shaking all over.

            Our eyes met again, and I saw terror and pleading and loneliness. I slowly stepped over the snow and stood beside him. He barely looked up. Would he run if I got closer? It was a busy road. I dropped into a crouch. He doesn’t move. “Hi buddy.” No response.

            I reached toward him slowly and laid my hand on his back. He closed his eyes and continued to shake. I thought he’s either hurt or so cold he can’t get up. I moved closer and slide my hand under him and picked him up. He’s almost limp and my heart was breaking even more.

            I carried him home and decide to warm him up in a nice shower. He doesn’t argue and comes out clean and not shaking, although still scared. He turned out to be a she. She crawled away from me, like a scolded animal and hid under a coffee table in the living room. After a few minutes I slid a plate of food under the table and walked away. I heard her gulping it down and smiled.

            Neither of us know that this is the start of a relationship that would go deep into both of our souls. Too deep into mine . . .

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           Time stalks every event in our lives. Some things we hope and pray never happen. But we lie to ourselves. We try to push it into the back of our minds hoping it will stay there or go away forever.

            My life was enriched by my best friend at the beginning of our relationship. She had skinny legs, a somewhat long nose and would dedicate her entire life to me. Not to herself or anything else. Her entire world revolved around mine. I promised her from the start that I would make her life the best it could be, and in her own way she did the same to me.

            We both kept our promises . . .

            Soon after finding her we moved to Florida. She grew up on the beach digging holes in the sand so deep she could barely get out. The sand flying behind her as she dug holes made me laugh with delight every time. Her favorite hobby was to hunt crabs in the shallow waters of the Gulf. She would dunk her entire head underwater and grab a crab. When she came up the crab would have her pinched in two places on her face, but she didn’t care. She’d throw it on the sand and play with it until I threw it back. She’d hunt crabs all day, and it was too bad they weren’t good to eat.

            When I caught a fish, she loved to lick it and then chase it in the shallow waters until it escaped. It was heaven on the beach for her.

            In Michigan we played in the snow and she chased me through the forest. Her favorite game was hide and seek. Me hiding and her seeking. When she found me, we would fight and roll on the ground in companion delight. Her nickname was Wooboof. Not sure where it came from, but she loved it.

            She slept in our bed. She would tell you - we slept in hers.

            When she had knee surgery, I laid on the floor with her all night while she cried. My soul was in pain, and although she couldn’t understand, I apologized and cried with her too.

            She waited patiently for me to get home every day. We would run upstairs and have a good fight on the bed. Many times, I would lose this fight and have bloody scrapes or even a black eye. It was bliss for each of us and my wounds were a small price to pay.

            She loved everyone and everything. Another person was a tail-wagging pleasure to meet. Meeting a new dog was another companion along her life’s journey. If they would play, she’d delight in the same. Her favorite friend was a German Shepherd. They would meet every night and go chest to chest fighting in friendship and fun.

           If I was gone for a short period of time and returned, she would literally cry with delight to see me again. No one could see that inside me . . . I was crying with joy to see her too.

           Every day we lived for each other. Her much more than me. I had my job and obligations. She had only me. I was her world.

            But the day that I dreaded from the first minute we began our relationship eventually had to come. A dog’s life is short. I knew this. That’s why I dedicated my life to making hers the best it could be.

            And yet I curse myself.

            I should never have become so attached. I allowed myself to treat an animal like a daughter. We even called her our “doggie-daughter.” She was more than a daughter; never grew up and left for her own life. She stayed with us her entire short life. And we loved her dearly. She, like most dogs, would have given her life to save ours.

            But the day finally arrived after 14 years and 2 months. A visit to the vet revealed she had an aggressive tumor in her left hind hip. She was in pain and could barely walk. Her time with us was at an end. At least in this life. I prayed at that time that there is a doggie heaven.

            I went home with her and cried harder than I could ever have imagined. I sobbed into a pillow to mute the sound. I’ve never felt such sadness and pain in my entire life.

            On a Friday I scheduled the end of her life. Monday, three days later, would be her last day. I spent three days on the floor with her. Me reminiscing about our time together and her not understanding why we were face to face as I messaged her all over.

            On Monday I began the worst day of my entire life. I dreaded this day from the moment we met. I’m not sure what I would have given to turn back the hands of time . . .

            I held her chin in one hand and stroked her head with the other. I looked in her eyes and told her I loved her and thanked her for the life she gave me. It wasn’t fair. She had no idea she was about to leave me, and she couldn’t say goodbye. Could you watch your child die? I had to.

            As the vet did her job, my doggie daughter closed her eyes and passed away peacefully, no longer in pain. I staggered outside, fell to the ground on my knees beside my car and cried until the tears would no longer flow.

            I am carrying a lifetime of pain missing her. I sometimes cry alone when I think about her, and no one knows. After all, I’m a man and we’re not supposed to cry. But I miss her so much . . .

            Her name was Leia.

            She made me go through the worst day of my life. But she gave me the best times of my life also. I loved her like a daughter. I know she knew this. Those of us that have never had a dog can’t relate to what I’ve written. Some know it all too well.

            I curse myself again. I’m a fool! An idiot! Because I’ve done it again. I started the process all over, knowing what will probably happen. Haven’t I “learned my lesson?”

            His name is Harley.

            We believe Leia sent him to us. She would want us to love another dog and give it the wonderful life she had.

            Harley Davidson Dora.

            And he’s bringing joy and laughter where pain and sorrow ended. But once again, the clock starts ticking in the back of my mind. I try to tell myself that I won’t get as close to this dog as I did with Leia. But I know it won’t work. I love him already, and I can see he’s making me his world too. I’ll give him the best life possible, and I know he’ll do the same for us. We tell him about his sister (Leia). But he can’t understand. It’s really for us, not him. We remind ourselves of how much she still means to us, to justify letting her go and put another dog in her place.

            Leia will live in our minds and hearts the rest of our lives. There’s immense joy in those memories and a terrible sadness in the end. When I think about the sadness, I try to remind myself that the good times of fourteen years far outweigh the ending.

            But it still hurts deeply, and always will. You simply can’t forget the worst day of your life. Ever.