Unwelcome Dental Advice

You might remember a while back I wrote a post about how we didn’t deserve animals/pets. It stemmed from the idea that the puppies across the street were always stuck outside, limited food, limited water, and limited scenery. I still haven’t seen those dogs’ parents take them on a walk, and I walk my dogs every day, multiple times a day.

Well, the hardest thing for a pet owner to endure happened to us this weekend. I had fed the dogs their evening meal and Meryl and I were sitting down to enjoy a movie. It’s October, after all, and we wanted to watch a scary movie or two. The dogs had been acting fine all day. Dwight was as wild as ever, barking at everything and playing with Nola. Teddy was trying to each the chicken right off my plate when we were having our own dinner. Everything was normal.

But, after a couple house, Teddy was having a tough time. Something similar happened to him the week prior and we thought maybe he was having allergy issues. His breathing became rapid and shallow, so like last week, we put him in the oxygen chamber we put together for him. It was something insisted upon by our vet since Teddy had heart issues. It was meant to provide better oxygen flow when the fluid built up on his lungs.

After an hour in the chamber, and about twenty minutes of him scratching at the window to be let out, we let him free, and he seemed fine. There was still some coughing and shortness of breath, but he looked and acted normal otherwise, so we dismissed it. Our biggest mistake.

Bedtime rolled around and Ted was still laboring while breathing. Meryl stayed up with him while she read, and I fell asleep. About thirty minutes later, she told me that Teddy pooped in the bed because he couldn’t stand up to let us know he had to go. When I picked him up to wash off his bottom, I knew things had gotten way worse than he was letting on.

We rushed him to the only emergency vet in a ten-mile radius, but Teddy passed away as soon as we handed him off to the doctor.

It was soul-crushing. Having just said goodbye to my other boy, Zacky, just 11 months ago, we weren’t prepared to let go of another one. But Teddy’s time was that night. He knew it, and reluctantly, I knew it as well.

His passing makes me look back fondly on all the joy he and the other puppies we’ve had to let go provided us. All of our poms, with the exception of Dwight, have been rescues. We took them from shelters or homes that didn’t appreciate them, and we gave them lives that mattered. They were loved beyond any love I ever gave my own family. They were groomed, treated well, given so many snacks, and a warm bed to sleep in.

All they had to do in return was smile at us when we were down or do a begging gesture when they wanted something. Their part in this, for as reductive as I make it sound, was massive. They simply had to be themselves and they brought us years of joy.

Doug – who used to go by Douggie, Douglas Eugene, or Dood – and Zack – who used to go by Zacky, Zicky, Fern, or Mister Woo – were the first two Pomeranians I’d ever had the pleasure of being around. They both had so much life in them and did things I’d never seen other dogs do. They’d sit back on their haunches and flail their front paws together when they wanted something.

Zacky was the first and only dog I’d ever had that looked at me in a way that I could only describe as purely unconditional love. I’ve never seen another dog look at a human the way he looked at me. It was like he revered me. Teddy – who also went by Teed, Tedder, or Deadly Tedly – was my first rehome. His parents split up and couldn’t decide on what to do with him, so we took him in after we lost Doug.

His initial reticence to join our family was heartbreaking, because he stood in the window and barked his little “owf” bark for days on end, presumably waiting for his original owner to return. But as soon as he realized that they were never coming back, and that we would love him more than his previous family ever would, he fell into a rhythm that lasted until the day we lost him. For three years, he owf’ed and warbled when he knew it was dinner time. He’d thrash his head, make snarl faces, and crash into Zacky while high stepping.

The memories of my boys are what keep me going. I try not to dwell on their passing, because I know it will wreck me. To preserve their memories, I’ve been amending my short story, “Pomerania,” to reflect Teddy’s passing and lengthen it slightly to boost my word count for my upcoming submission to NaNoWriMo. “Pomerania” will be included in my short story book, as well as a revised version of “You Otter Know.” I’ve got two other stories (one finished, titled “The Last Five Hours” – the other is a short story I did for school called “95 Bathroom Blues”) that I’m adding, and I’ll be working on one last one for the final product.

I digress.

Don’t take for granted the time you have with your pets. Their lives are shorter than our own, and every moment you have with them is precious. Love them, treat them better than you treat yourself, and you’ll be infinitely rewarded with memories.

Above: Doug and Zack

Rest Well, sweet, sweet Ted.