My Mistye is a white poodle with those expressive brown eyes they are noted for. They just sparkle when she is excited and happy, but when she is sad her eyes take on a mournful look. When she senses that I am sad, she starts licking my face to comfort me.

She is so observant. She hates it, when I leave the house without her, so she watches me like a hawk when I get up in the morning to determine what my plans for the day are. I usually go to the gym right after eating a small breakfast on weekdays and she can tell whether I'm going there by the clothes I put on. She starts looking sad when she sees my gym clothes. She also recognizes my 'Church' attire on Sunday, so settles down in my recliner to wait for me. She is very happy when she sees me in my housecoat, hair uncombed, no makeup, etc. because she knows I'll be home till noon, at least. But she's happiest of all, when I get dressed and say "Come on, Mistye. You can go."

Dogs are so loyal and love us with a worshipful and undying love. They are in heaven when their family gives them love and attention, but some dog owners are negligent about giving their dog the love and attention it needs and even worse, some could care less about their pet's feelings. Ginny's poem, "A Pat on the Head," pierces the heart of anyone who loves their pet as a member of the family.

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Sunday night, Feb. 21, 2010. My beloved Misty is gone. It happened so quickly. I was on the computer when I heard her yelping in another part of the house. My heart was filled with dread for it was a sound that you immediately recognize as utmost distress. When I found her, she was in a full-blown seizure. It couldn't have come at a worse time. It was Sunday night about 9:15. It was a hectic 15 or 20 minutes trying to locate the vet on call for emergencies while trying to tend to her at the same time. With her violently struggling towel-wrapped body clutched in one arm, and my other hand on the steering wheel, I sped to get her to the receiving clinic. Mistye was totally unaware that the one who loved her so much was holding her in her arms and desperately trying to get her help.

The vet, noting the severity of her symptoms told me she had to stay the night, that he would give her seizure medicine and try to get her stable. Said that at 7:00 in the morning, I could come back for her and take her to her own vet to decide on a course of action.

I spent a sleepless night. I knew she was out of her head but her reaction made me think she was in horrible pain, though I wasn't sure. I was at the vet's office promptly the next morning and my worst fears were confirmed. She was no better. She had "seized" the whole night and he had her "smoked." She was completely sedated because every time he tried to bring her around she was still in seizure. Even in that state there were weak little yelps.

She had been diagnosed as a diabetic about six months before and had serious diabetic related health issues. The prognosis this morning couldn't have been worse. More than likely she would be brain damaged since it had been under attack for 10 hours. My heart was breaking because I could not stand for her to suffer anymore. I knew that once again, I would have to summon the courage to make the decision that is the most heartbreaking one that a pet owner has to do. So I held my precious 'baby girl' in my arms as she was mercifully sent on her way to the doggie "Rainbow Bridge."

There's an aching emptiness in my heart tonight. My world will be a bit darker learning to live without the sunshine she brought into my life from the very first day I brought her home with me, to her forever home. All her life she was always waiting at the door to greet me enthusiastically, wiggling and twisting with excitement at my being home. Each time, I would snatch her up in my arms, telling her that I loved her as she reciprocated by covering my face with her kisses. When I came home from church this past Sunday afternoon, unbeknownst to us that it was the last greeting between us, we followed the same loving routine.

She lived a life totally unaware that there is evil in this world in the form of animal abuse. She only knew the touch of loving hands stroking her and rubbing her trustingly exposed tummy, a loving voice praising her for being such a 'good doggie,' hands that could always be counted on to put food in her dish at feeding times. And she had what is one of the most cherished things for a dog. Being highly social animals, they hate being left alone. She was lucky enough to be my doggie in my retirement years so that I could give that to her, also. Knowing that she had a good life comforts me in my grief but it distresses me that her last hours were a nightmare for her, and me, and that we didn't get to say goodbye.

Feb 22, 2010

Today, the second day, after Mistye's death has been one filled with dreadful silence. She was the source of the sound of life going on in the house. In the daytime, she laid by the glass patio door to keep up with what was going on outside. Protecting her turf, she was continually jumping up, hitting the dog door at full speed to run the offending creatures off. Most of the time, it would be cats that were as big as she was and they took their own easy time getting out of the yard unless I happened to be out there and yelled. Then they would take off. Mistye would proudly run up to me for my approval for being a good 'watchdog!

But back to the silence. Having Mistye here, I had something to talk to which I did quite often, so there was the sound of my own voice, at least. I am now alone with my recently acquired kitty cats. Though they romp and play, it's total silence when they play, not noisy like dogs. Its a little eerie watching all that rowdiness yet its total silence except for a 'bump' now and then as they wrestle on the floor. I do talk to them some, but cats don't respond in an animated way to the human voice like a dog does.

They have kinda crept around today acting a little lethargic. They know Mistye is not here and they don't quite know how to handle it.

Feb 23, 2009

I knew last night when I went to bed that today would not be good. I had a heartbreaking chore that must be done. The vet had held Mistye at his office for me until the rain quit so I could bury her. Today was a beautiful sunshiny day that was at odds on how I was feeling inside. After lunch I went to 'bring her home' for burial in one of my flowerbeds. She will be close by and I will be able to see her grave as I sit in my porch swing on nice days.

At the vet's office, a nice young female employee said she would bring her to my van for me. As I was waiting for her, I couldn't keep the tears from flowing down my face, thinking of the 10 hours of suffering she went through. Knowing that people can be uncomfortable observing another's grief, I didn't want to be emotional at this time but I couldn't help myself.

The young lady, seeing my tears, told me she was sorry for Mistye's passing and then handed me the little cardboard coffin. When she started back inside, she said, "Have a nice day." Most young people haven't had to deal with feelings of grief so don't have a clue. I know she did not mean to be callous.