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I’ve been hesitant to post because the whole thing is so very emotional for me, but my eldest dog is dead. Eclair spent last week (Monday through Friday) at the veterinary clinic undergoing her first installment (of two) of the heartworm treatment. This is a relatively risky process where they basically poison the patient with an arsenic derivative and keep her at rest and under close observation while it begins to kill the worms. She made it through round one with flying colors and was home the very instant I was allowed to gather her. We spent the weekend together at home and although visibly weak, she was happy to be home and in familiar surroundings. Henry was ecstatic. I had to be in Monroe, LA on Monday morning for meetings with a large client and was not going to be home until Tuesday night. Rather than my mother driving in to pet-sit, Georgia agreed to watch them at her home while I was travelling. I delivered them on Sunday evening due to early morning commitments and they were just fine… they had stayed at her house before. Monday, as I flew away, Georgia had to go to work herself, so she fed them breakfast and went to work. When she got home that evening, my sweet baby Eclair was laying in the backyard of her home dead. There was no way to tell what time in the day she had passed or why, but my suspicion is that she threw a blood clot and had a stroke as the clot lodged somewhere it shouldn’t have. This is said to be the largest risk to heartworm patients undergoing treatment. There are a million what-if’s I have to focus on not dwelling on as I deal with her loss. Should I have been with her so she wasn’t in a relatively strange place? Should I have kept her kenneled or made her lay down as much as possible? Could I have done something to save her? How long would she have happily continued to live if I’d not opt’ed for the treatment? I can’t help think that my attempt to save her live was what shortened it and killed her. I’m all too familiar with this feeling, of course on a much grander scale. Losing the woman you love more than life quickly puts the loss of a pet into perspective. Eclair’s death is still excruciating. The worst part of it all, other than for her, is that Henry loved her so much… she was his friend and companion. Imagining him with her when she was dying and stay there with her lifeless body all or part of the day breaks my heart.

Poor, sweet Georgia called me with the news when she got home. I was finishing a meeting and there was no way I could get home early without renting a car and driving since the last flight out of town was already boarding and I wasn’t even at the airport. I called around to friends I know with a truck looking for assistance to move her body. Georgia’s step dad and friend ended up helping and they took Eclair to my house and placed her in the garage until I got home the next day. I drove straight home from the airport and started digging a grave. The process of digging the hole reminding me of all these childhood memories I’d not thought of since. My grandfather was a veterinarian for over 40 years and would often have me dig graves for pets that people brought in to his clinic for “disposal”. I remember it being so impersonal. This was so painful. Barrett came over to help me dig. The ground was very hard as we’ve not had rain recently and the rocks and tree roots added to the struggle. I made jokes during the process to try and keep from crying… like how pissed my manicurist is going to be when she sees these bruised, splintered hands. An hour and a half later, we were close enough. My neighbor, Bob, and I gently laid her body into the spot and had to reposition her legs to fit properly. When I moved them, her rigored body aspirated air from within her lungs and she made a sighing sound just like she was exhaling while alive. I was a twist of the knife in my heart. After a brief moment of silence above her laying peacefully in that stubborn hole, we carefully replaced the earth above her that had fought so hard with us to be removed. Georgia brought Henry home during the process and he was anxious, so after that last goodbye, we all went inside and tried to make the best of the evening. I miss her. Henry probably doesn’t consciously think about it all the time, but I know he finds things all the time around the house that remind him of her that cause a moment of confusion… just like he did with Erin for so very long. I don’t want him to be alone and it hurts me to think of him lonely when I’m away, so I’ll likely get another dog before the New Year. I just haven’t worked out the details of that just yet.

ps. I hope everyone had a happy Halloween.