In 1998, my oldest daughter brought her home. I begged her not to, because nobody had the time to take care of a puppy. I worked and my then 18 year old daughter was in school and working full time. But, as anyone knows, you can't tell a kid what to do. After a few months of trying, she realized that she couldn't do it. She came in the house one day after I rescued Chicago from her and I told her that we needed to find a home for her. At that moment, that girl dog got up off the floor and came and licked my hand. I knew then, that she was home, and our life together began. For nine years, she was my closest friend, and sometimes my only one. I was a single mom for most of my two daughter's lives, and after they left home, Chica was all I had. She was the only one there to help me up off the floor when I sprained my back. I watched a TV special one night about coldhearted beings who killed exotic animals inside of fenced areas. I bawled my eyes out and watched that girl get off her chair and climb up on the couch and bury her head in my lap. We did everything together. We would walk miles together on the weekends, play in the river, and go for long rides in the car.
She was inbred for sure, had big floppy ears, long lanky legs, a tail that was much too long, and bad hips, but you should have seen her eyes. They were so gentle and loving. Even her groomer said that she was the sweetest German Shepherd they had ever known. When my new husband came on the scene over four years ago, she was quite jealous, but soon learned to love him as much as I did. Whoever knew that I would have to share my man with my girl dog. It go to be that if the three of us were together, she would listen to him before she listened to me.
When my youngest daughter gave birth to my granddaughter, we were a little concerned about how they would get along. The concern faded as they bonded almost immediately. Kayla couldn't say Chicago, so she became "Cago". They were so close, she had to come with us, whenever we drove out of state to see them. Kayla is now 3 1/2 years old. In April we discovered a few lumps in Cago's throat. We went to the vet and she did a needle aspiration. It came back with an 80% chance that it was lymphoma. We got started on antibiotics, hoping that it was just an infection. Two weeks later, we did a biopsy and that came back positive. We made one last trip out of state to see Kayla, and I cried the whole time we were there. When we got back, she started taking steroids, and that seemed to help for a very short time. Last Sunday she started having a bloody discharge from her nose and couldn't breathe out of it. She couldn't lay on her side or sleep for very long. On Monday, we tried the antibiotics again. It was so hard to see her that way. Tuesday afternoon, I was beginning to give up. I couldn't stand to see her suffer, she has always been so sweet and gentle. We went down to the river walked along the shoreline and played in the water. She was her old happy self, once again. When we got back home, she was all smiles and I thought the antibiotics had finally kicked in. It looked like she was breathing out of her nose, and she was resting easier. By Wednesday afternoon, it had become very obvious that she wasn't getting better, infact, getting worse. She was coughing all the time and the discharge was heavier. By Thursday morning, I knew the end was near. I called the vet and made an appointment for later in the afternoon. I called Kayla and she asked me if Cago went to Jesus's house yet. I said not yet, but it would be today. She said," don't worry Grandma, Jesus will take good care of her and we will see her again someday." When my daughter took the phone back, she said that Kayla was across the room praying for Cago. I cried a river that afternoon, but we WILL see her again someday, and I can't wait!