this is one thinga column that collects tips on how to live your life.
Three years ago, on a Friday morning in July, I took my Weimaraner, Bailey, to her oncologist's appointment. Her legs became weak and she began to slip and fall frequently. An ultrasound of her liver confirmed my suspicions. Our year-long battle with melanoma has come to an end. “For how long?” I sobbed. “Let’s call it a weekend,” our veterinarian replied in a calm, dark tone.
When I walked into the house and hugged my husband, Andrew, I said, “Nothing else matters until Monday evening at 6 p.m.” Bailey was our first dog and we had her for 13 years. For 13 years, he leaned on our legs when he needed affection, made the toy hedgehog squeal until it squealed, and was the pit crew chief on bird hunting trips with his Vizsla friends. Well, there are only three days left. I was determined to do nothing but spend time with her and Andrew.
I canceled my horse riding lesson. We have changed our training schedule. The chore list went into a drawer. Everything that was previously considered essential and important in our daily lives has been downgraded to “unimportant.” It will just be deducted from your remaining time with Bayley.
Once the heat of the day subsides, we go for short walks around the farm and let her lead wherever she wants to roam and smell. I baked her favorite blueberry pancakes from scratch.
We cuddled up on the couch and watched movies like You've got mail, the kind that wraps you up in a big hug and protects you from the passing of time. My hands caressed her soft, light brown coat, comforting her and myself.
Andrew and I talked about how Bailey helped my mother-in-law overcome her fear of dogs, and how our agility instructor kicked us out of class for running around the building and not coming when called. Bailey shared some of her most precious stories, including a time when she was born. We discuss how Queen B's expressions of love are tactile, like her feet on our laps or her nose poking and caressing our arms. I said I would miss the feel of it. We created a shared photo album and asked her loyal fans to add their favorite photos of Bailey.
When you love your dog, you know that one day you will have to say goodbye. But when and how it will unfold is unpredictable. Andrew and I had promised that we would never let the dogs suffer in order to spend more time with them. Bailey was ready.
Letting her go has never been so easy. But I was grateful that I was able to put everything she had to do in a drawer and focus on spending the last days with her as a slow time and just being her family. The ability to take control of how you spend time with your dog during his final moments is a godsend. That's not always the case.
At the end of a weekend of blueberry pancakes, she passed away peacefully in her favorite dog bed. As her heart raced to the end, I whispered to her that she was the best dog ever, that she was beautiful, and that we loved her. time.
