Starr
by Debbie Brown
In the fall of 1995 my 14-year-old son and I went the Daytona Beach Seafood Festival. The local humane society had an exhibit there with the most adorable Chow puppies. The next day, my son and I went to the humane society with the intention of adopting one of the pups that we had seen at the festival. As I waited for the attendants to open the cage for the Chows my son wandered around looking at the other dogs. I watched as he kneeled in front of a cage and could see the compassion in his face as he gazed at whatever was in the cage. As I reached his side, I saw the pathetic creature that he already looked at with such love. She was all legs and ribs. Undernourished and I have to admit, just plain ugly. Mom he said, I want this one. Why? I asked. Because, nobody else will he answered. If she stays here, shell just be put to sleep because nobody will want her. I have to save her. That was my first glimpse at the wonderful man my baby boy was growing up to be. As it turned out, the object of his affection was a Black Lab/Greyhound mix. We started the adoption process and two days later (after being spayed) she became a part of our family. We chose the name of Starr, and she always lived up to it! She was definitely the Starr of the show. Although she had ups and downs with her health through out her life, Starrs spirit never wavered. Ill always remember the night after surgery to remove a benign tumor when she was 5. We all three slept in the floor, surrounding her bed, each with a hand on her, comforting her, showing her how much she was loved. My son grew up, went away to college, got married and moved to another state to teach junior high English and coach football, basketball and track. Starr stayed with my husband and I. After our son moved away she attached herself to my husband. She was his shadow and constant companion. She was my guardian when my husband traveled. She knew being my protector was her duty, and she did her job without fail. On the weekend before Valentines Day of this year, Starr stopped eating. I new immediately that this was serious, because food was always this baby girls passion. I have a wonderful vet who makes house calls. She examined Starr on February 15th and found a tumor about the size of a grapefruit in Starrs abdomen. We scheduled x-rays for the following day and tentatively scheduled surgery to remove the tumor as soon as the x-rays were read. I left Starr at the animal hospital for the x-rays and went to work. About an hour and a half later, the vet called and told me to come to the hospital as soon as possible. The x-rays showed the worst possible news. There were about a dozen tumors in that precious body. One very large one was pressing on her stomach (explaining the refusal of food), one not quite as large on each lung, and numerous smaller ones throughout her body, on every organ. At her advanced age, and with the large size and number of tumors, the vet felt that she had no chance to survive the trauma of such extensive surgery. The vet said there was no indication that she was in pain at this point. Getting her to eat would be our biggest challenge. My husband was out of town at the time and we had decided beforehand that if the news was the worst, no decisions would be made until he was home. When he returned we decided to keep her with us until the time came that we saw her suffering. For over two months we met the daily challenge of finding her something to eat. The vet had advised that at this point in a terminal case, nutrition was out the window, whatever would go down and stay down was what we should let her have. For the last two months of her life, Starr existed off of peanut butter toast, strawberry frosted pop tarts, frozen beef or chicken bullion treats and occasional cans of Fancy Feast cat food. Tuesday, April 19, was a bad day. She struggled to breath, struggled to stand, to find a comfortable position to lay in. She refused to come into the house, but preferred the backyard. It was a cool and breezy day, and she seemed to breath easier outside. On Wednesday morning, little had changed. My husband stayed home with her and I went to work. Around 10:00 a.m., he called and said the words that Ive dreaded hearing. Its time he said. I made the call to the vet, who said she could be at our house at 2:00 p.m. I made arrangements to leave work at noon. Im not sure why, but I felt compelled to give her one last bath. As I bathed our beautiful baby for the last time, I told her the story of the Rainbow Bridge and told her to go there and wait for Mommy, Daddy and Brother. When the vet arrived, Starr struggled to her feet and greeted her old friend with tail wags and hand licks. Then she lay down under her favorite shade tree as if she knew and welcomed what was about to happen. She went peacefully and easily; within seconds of the injection she was gone. Writing this story is my outlet (very therapeutic). Although I still feel emptiness that I dont think any other pet will ever fill, Ill be okay, eventually. My husband though, is a different story; he cant seem to pull himself together. He refuses to be comforted, is angry at God for allowing her to become so sick, so suddenly when she was such a beautiful, sweet, go
Comments would be appreciated by the author, Debbie Brow
 
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