Before you read this, you should probably know what it's about. This isn't a fanfiction like my other blogs. This blog was specifically set up by me as a memorial to my two dogs, both of whom I lost in October. So really it's more for me that you. I had difficulty writing this because it brought back really strong feelings and memories for me. I'm not one to cry, I actually detest it, but I needed to write this. I made this more to perserve my memories of my girls than for people to read it, but if you want to read it go ahead. But proceed with caution, you may need tissues.
I’m wrote this because I need to. Not because I want to, I just need to get it all out.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Annie
Annie’s neck had swelled up before, and I thought we should take her to the vet but my parents brushed it off because she was back to normal in a matter of days. Then in June, it got really bad. Her head swelled up and she was having trouble seeing out of one eye. I finally convinced my dad that she needed to go to the vet. We took her there and the vet said he believed that it was just puss, likey caused from an infection and that he could extract it with a needle.
Before I go on, I want to say that as soon as I walked into that vet’s office, I didn’t like it. I can’t explain it; I just got a bad vibe from it. I left the room and her side because I don’t handle needles very well. The doctor called me back in when he was done. When I got back in my dad told me that there was no puss, and that instead they extracted blood. They were looking at the sample now. Right then I knew it wasn’t good. The doctor came back and said that he had been “seeing weird cells” under the microscope. He said that it could be an infection or it could be lymphoma, a type of cancer that affects the lymph nodes. As soon as he said that, I knew that's what it was. He tried to reassure me that it wasn’t definitive but it was a possibility. He also said that she had a blood filled eye, probably from an accident she had had, but she didn’t have any. Well, that’s when I knew that he had no idea what he was talking about, but I was so shocked that I didn’t say anything further.
We left there and went to my mom’s office and my dad told her that Annie could possibly have lymphoma. She came out to the car where I was staring out the window. She said that she didn’t think it was lymphoma, because it just didn’t add up. But I can’t explain it, some how I just knew that it was. We took her home and in a few days the swelling went down and she was a lot like her old self.
On June 25, 2008, my 17th birthday, the vet called back with the lab results. He said that it was cancer, and we proceeded to tell him that she was fine now. He said that because of this it couldn’t be cancer, getting my hopes up. I was confused now as to what had happened to my little Anita, but hopeful that it wasn't cancer.
We left there and went to my mom’s office and my dad told her that Annie could possibly have lymphoma. She came out to the car where I was staring out the window. She said that she didn’t think it was lymphoma, because it just didn’t add up. But I can’t explain it, some how I just knew that it was. We took her home and in a few days the swelling went down and she was a lot like her old self.
On June 25, 2008, my 17th birthday, the vet called back with the lab results. He said that it was cancer, and we proceeded to tell him that she was fine now. He said that because of this it couldn’t be cancer, getting my hopes up. I was confused now as to what had happened to my little Anita, but hopeful that it wasn't cancer.
However the next week she swelled up again and had trouble with her breathing. I was not taking her back to that vet, because I didn’t think he knew what he was talking about. So we took her to the vet of my choice. The vet there was extremely nice and explained everything he could to us. My little Anita did have lymphoma. Her head had swelled because her lymph nodes were swollen, a result of the cancer, and it was cutting off the blood circulation to the head. He gave us some options including chemo or a steroid. We couldn’t afford the chemo and the survival rate after the chemo was at most usually a year. We chose the steroid. The vet said that it might only work for about a month and that was it. It would just stop working and after that there was nothing to do. So we took her home and her breathing was horrible for the next few days. With the medicine her swelling went down, but it seemed like the cancer had gone too far. I remember lying in my bed with her like we always did, telling her it was ok for her to leave. I didn’t want her to suffer.
However, by some miracle she got better. She gained back the weight she had lost, and then some (although it was mostly fat instead of muscle), and she was doing very well, but we were dreading the day when the medicine stopped working. Months went by and she was doing well, my little warrior. My mom was calling her the miracle dog. She wasn’t suppose to last that long, but she pushed her way through life.
In September, she began to get a little worse. I could feel her lymph nodes covered with tumors again in her neck and on her hind legs and her weight began to drop. But she stayed with me, even when I though her time was up.
Then October came, it had been almost 4 months since her diagnosis. She was getting really bad and one day I noticed she was having trouble walking. I went to school and came home, and it had gotten worse. She was a champion runner, as fast as a greyhound. She was literally the fastest dog I had ever seen. She was VERY athletic, I mean after all she was a border collie, her mother a champion herding dog from Wales. She had already lost her sight in her once blood filled eye, which was very important to her. But when she lost her mobility, I knew I couldn't let her live like that. The night before she died I held the water bowl up for her to drink from, and carried her outside to do her business. But the thing I remember most about the night before she died was something I will never forget. One thing was that even though she could hardly move she got up and barked to tell me that there was someone at the door.
But the thing I will always remember…
I was watching the hockey game, sitting on the floor with my legs crossed. She had been on the other side of the room and hobbled over to me. She backed up to me slowly and plopped herself down in my lap. Something she had never done before. Looking back, this was her way of telling me it was time, that she was going. I can’t seem to express it in words, but I will Never, Ever forget that moment. And I wished that it would have lasted longer, but unfortunetly I had to get up. At that point in time I knew it was bad, but I was in denial. I thought she would get better, after all she had so many time before.
I slept down on the couch that night to be closer to her, because she couldn't make it up the stairs to sleep with me. I woke up at 5 AM to her whining because she could no longer get up. I could hear her nails scratching on the floor as she unsuccessfully attempted to get up. It was heart breaking. I lay next to her on the floor for an hour before my mom got up to see why I wasn’t getting ready for school. There was NO WAY IN HELL I was going to school. I knew if I went to school, that she probably wouldn’t be there when I got back. My mom looked at me and said, “Do we need to call the vet?”
I simply nodded and began to cry, I knew it was time to let go. She was just suffering so much. My mom left for work and I lay with Annie next to the fireplace. My dad called the vet; they set up an appointment to have her put to sleep at 11:30. My mom came home again, and went to get our other dogs medication. My brother was home because he had a “stomach ache,” but I swear he was fine.
About 5 minutes after mom left, I had been sitting on the couch, crying when I heard Annie let out a whine. I went over to her to see what was wrong. She shook a little bit, and her eyes rolled back in her head and sunk in to her skull. Her tongue was pushed out of her mouth a little. I screamed, knowing that she was leaving me. I screamed 'No, Annie!' A couple times. She became very stiff and unnatural looking. I put my hand over her heart, and felt it slow down until there was no heart beat at all. I think I cried out “No, my baby. My baby.” And cried softly. My brother had called my mom and she was on her way back. I instructed him to go to my room and get a sheet. I then sang to her one last time, a song that sometime made her sleep.
“Hush now my baby
be still, love, don’t cry
sleep as you’re rocked by the stream
sleep and remember my last lullaby
so I’ll be with you when you dream.”
(this is a song from the Prince of Egypt. Called “The River Lullaby” sung by Ofra Haza.)
After bringing the sheet down, I looked at her one last time, but she didn't look the same. She was so still, stiff, and unnatural looking. It wasn't my Annie, it was just her shell. I covered her with a black flannel sheet from my bed. My mom came home and put her arms around me where I broke down. Annie died next to me on October 17, 2008, around 10:10 AM; she was only 4 years old. An hour later we took Pooh to the vet, but I'll explain that in Pooh's story. I have never cried so much in my life. I hate crying, it makes me feel weak and vulnerable, which I HATE! But that day, I lost my second half.
I had known Annie since before she could probably remember. One of my neighbors breeds Border Collies and my two friends always went to play with the puppies. Annie came from a litter of 3. She and her one brother had already been sold, and I was hoping to get her other brother. At the time her name was May. However, I didn’t convince my parents in time to get him. All the puppies left, or so I thought. The breeder had kept May and named her Annie. She said that she found out that Annie was going to go to a family who would keep her in a cage all her life, and the breeder didn’t want that. So Annie stayed and I went over at least once a week to see her.
However, by some miracle she got better. She gained back the weight she had lost, and then some (although it was mostly fat instead of muscle), and she was doing very well, but we were dreading the day when the medicine stopped working. Months went by and she was doing well, my little warrior. My mom was calling her the miracle dog. She wasn’t suppose to last that long, but she pushed her way through life.
In September, she began to get a little worse. I could feel her lymph nodes covered with tumors again in her neck and on her hind legs and her weight began to drop. But she stayed with me, even when I though her time was up.
Then October came, it had been almost 4 months since her diagnosis. She was getting really bad and one day I noticed she was having trouble walking. I went to school and came home, and it had gotten worse. She was a champion runner, as fast as a greyhound. She was literally the fastest dog I had ever seen. She was VERY athletic, I mean after all she was a border collie, her mother a champion herding dog from Wales. She had already lost her sight in her once blood filled eye, which was very important to her. But when she lost her mobility, I knew I couldn't let her live like that. The night before she died I held the water bowl up for her to drink from, and carried her outside to do her business. But the thing I remember most about the night before she died was something I will never forget. One thing was that even though she could hardly move she got up and barked to tell me that there was someone at the door.
But the thing I will always remember…
I was watching the hockey game, sitting on the floor with my legs crossed. She had been on the other side of the room and hobbled over to me. She backed up to me slowly and plopped herself down in my lap. Something she had never done before. Looking back, this was her way of telling me it was time, that she was going. I can’t seem to express it in words, but I will Never, Ever forget that moment. And I wished that it would have lasted longer, but unfortunetly I had to get up. At that point in time I knew it was bad, but I was in denial. I thought she would get better, after all she had so many time before.
I slept down on the couch that night to be closer to her, because she couldn't make it up the stairs to sleep with me. I woke up at 5 AM to her whining because she could no longer get up. I could hear her nails scratching on the floor as she unsuccessfully attempted to get up. It was heart breaking. I lay next to her on the floor for an hour before my mom got up to see why I wasn’t getting ready for school. There was NO WAY IN HELL I was going to school. I knew if I went to school, that she probably wouldn’t be there when I got back. My mom looked at me and said, “Do we need to call the vet?”
I simply nodded and began to cry, I knew it was time to let go. She was just suffering so much. My mom left for work and I lay with Annie next to the fireplace. My dad called the vet; they set up an appointment to have her put to sleep at 11:30. My mom came home again, and went to get our other dogs medication. My brother was home because he had a “stomach ache,” but I swear he was fine.
About 5 minutes after mom left, I had been sitting on the couch, crying when I heard Annie let out a whine. I went over to her to see what was wrong. She shook a little bit, and her eyes rolled back in her head and sunk in to her skull. Her tongue was pushed out of her mouth a little. I screamed, knowing that she was leaving me. I screamed 'No, Annie!' A couple times. She became very stiff and unnatural looking. I put my hand over her heart, and felt it slow down until there was no heart beat at all. I think I cried out “No, my baby. My baby.” And cried softly. My brother had called my mom and she was on her way back. I instructed him to go to my room and get a sheet. I then sang to her one last time, a song that sometime made her sleep.
“Hush now my baby
be still, love, don’t cry
sleep as you’re rocked by the stream
sleep and remember my last lullaby
so I’ll be with you when you dream.”
(this is a song from the Prince of Egypt. Called “The River Lullaby” sung by Ofra Haza.)
After bringing the sheet down, I looked at her one last time, but she didn't look the same. She was so still, stiff, and unnatural looking. It wasn't my Annie, it was just her shell. I covered her with a black flannel sheet from my bed. My mom came home and put her arms around me where I broke down. Annie died next to me on October 17, 2008, around 10:10 AM; she was only 4 years old. An hour later we took Pooh to the vet, but I'll explain that in Pooh's story. I have never cried so much in my life. I hate crying, it makes me feel weak and vulnerable, which I HATE! But that day, I lost my second half.
I had known Annie since before she could probably remember. One of my neighbors breeds Border Collies and my two friends always went to play with the puppies. Annie came from a litter of 3. She and her one brother had already been sold, and I was hoping to get her other brother. At the time her name was May. However, I didn’t convince my parents in time to get him. All the puppies left, or so I thought. The breeder had kept May and named her Annie. She said that she found out that Annie was going to go to a family who would keep her in a cage all her life, and the breeder didn’t want that. So Annie stayed and I went over at least once a week to see her.
One time, I had to leave for a moment to go home and pick something up. Annie followed me through the invisible fence, just to get to me, something that the breeder reminded me of after Annie’s death. Around Halloween the breeder decided to sell Annie, and I wanted her. After weeks of pleading my parents they finally allowed me to get her, but she was to be my dog. I had to take care of her. And I did. My mom often said, that Annie was my dog, I wasn’t just her owner, she was only loyal to me, and would have followed me to the end of the earth and back. I’m not sure I will ever find a dog as loyal as she was. My mom also commented that the only reason Annie was around so long was because of me. She didn’t want to leave me. Annie would sleep with me to keep me warm and loved me unconditionally, just as I loved her. She taught me soooooo much, more so than anyone except my family. She taught me how to be responsible, how to love, how to be… me. Without her I would have never turned out to be the person I am today. Many people often commented that Annie was my other half, and I was hers, we completed each other.
I miss my little Anita soo much. A border collies life expectancy is at least 12 years, which means that Annie was suppose to have at least 8 more years with me, but probably more. She was supposed to come to college with me as soon as I was able to take her. She was supposed to live with me when I left college, because after all she was my dog. In her short 4 years, she made me who I am today, and now that she’s gone, I can only wait for the day when I see her again. Sometimes I’ll read something that reminds me of her, or if I’m upset I’ll really miss her. As cheesy as it sounds, she was there for me like the perfect husband. In sickness and in health, till death did we part. I will always miss her, and always love her. Sometimes when I think of her, I can feel her presence next to me. Feel her fur next to my skin and smell her horrible breath. I know she’s waiting for me, and although I plan to live my life as long as possible and to the fullest. I cannot wait for the day when I see her again.
Annie is currently buried in my Grandfather's field, (In case my family was ever to move, I could always go back there.) in the black flannel sheet that had been on my bed, I still posses the other half of that bed sheet combo.
I miss my little Anita soo much. A border collies life expectancy is at least 12 years, which means that Annie was suppose to have at least 8 more years with me, but probably more. She was supposed to come to college with me as soon as I was able to take her. She was supposed to live with me when I left college, because after all she was my dog. In her short 4 years, she made me who I am today, and now that she’s gone, I can only wait for the day when I see her again. Sometimes I’ll read something that reminds me of her, or if I’m upset I’ll really miss her. As cheesy as it sounds, she was there for me like the perfect husband. In sickness and in health, till death did we part. I will always miss her, and always love her. Sometimes when I think of her, I can feel her presence next to me. Feel her fur next to my skin and smell her horrible breath. I know she’s waiting for me, and although I plan to live my life as long as possible and to the fullest. I cannot wait for the day when I see her again.
Annie is currently buried in my Grandfather's field, (In case my family was ever to move, I could always go back there.) in the black flannel sheet that had been on my bed, I still posses the other half of that bed sheet combo.
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