You're Missing by Frank Ferraina

You're Missing

by Frank Ferraina

Poor Niki. That's all I kept saying to myself for days after our beautiful Golden Retriever passed away. She was just over 9 years old and we had her since she was 8 weeks. I've tried to hide (as best I can) the hurt and sadness since that terrible day in December when my "puppy" got sick again and we had to make the hardest decision a pet owner can make. But she was too sick. In July, Niki became very ill from a heart condition and she spent a week in the hospital. While she was there, her gold coat shaved in many spots with tubes and wires coming out of her, I visited her 2 or 3 times a day. The first night that I left her there, I took off my shirt and asked the doctor to put it in her crate. At home at night, she always waited until I took off my shirt and drop it on the floor. Then she would lay on it and fall asleep. I would call the hospital even more to check on her. Sometimes I would wake in the middle of the night and call the doctor on duty to check on her condition. I would ask when the best time would be to come by because just to visit with her, she needed to be prepared. I would take her for a short walk around the hospital and when she got too tired, she would lay down and I'd sit down next to her, stroke her head and try to coax her into eating something. I brought her favorite food and snacks to see if she would eat but she wouldn't. I even brought her turkey but she was so sick. Niki finally got better and we brought her home. We treated her with kid gloves for weeks and she started to feel better and before too long, she was acting like her old self again. In my mind, I knew that she had been through a lot and there was a chance that the tumor on her heart could act up again at any time. My family and I didn't have to try to treat her better during this time because we loved her since the first day. I knew that our time together might be short. On December 18th, Niki's symptoms returned. We called the vet and made arrangements to bring Niki in later in the day. We knew that this was it. She was so weak that she couldn't get up from the kithen floor and we knew she didn't have the strength to go through what she had in July. My wife and I took turns that day talking to her and patting her as she laid on her blanket for hours. She looked at both of us as if she knew too. She wasn't in pain but her heart was slowly failing. Finally, we put Niki in the car for her last ride. I barely remember sitting in the back of the van with her, stroking her head and whispering to her how much I loved and would miss her. I stayed with Niki during the procedure and patted her head and we stared at each other until the end. My wife and brother were there as well and it was a silent, sad ride home. My heart still aches and I don't care what anyone thinks. Niki was my family's pet but she was much more than that to all of us. She was a great dog, companion, friend. She was family. I love you Niki and I miss you so much.

Comments would be appreciated by the author, Frank Ferrain