A couple months ago I told you about our painful loss of our little Mandy. Last week we relived that pain once again with having to help our Caley over the Rainbow Bridge. For the first time in many years, we are without a furry friend in the house. As you walk around the house, you see the reminders of the one who is no longer here, the empty bed, the water bowls that are no longer needed, the once favorite teddy bear.

All dogs are wonderful pets, but some reach deeper into our souls and touch us on a different plane. Caley was one of those. She was the most communicative and vocal dog we’ve ever had. She let us know with a series of demanding woofs exactly what she wanted. I think she got exasperated with us sometimes when we didn’t catch on quickly enough to what she was saying. “No, that is not the kind of treat I wanted. I want the chicken strip!” From the day we brought her home from the breeder, she let us know exactly what she wanted with a series of vocal commands. I suspect she thought we were slow learners, but she kept trying to get us trained up.

In her younger days she was a little hellion! She could get into endless streams of mischief. I can still see her running around the back yard, proudly waving a bra that she had swiped from the laundry like a flag. If the snow got deep and solid enough, she would scurry over the fence for a quick romp around the neighborhood. On one memorable occasion, she and Mandy treed a pair of bear cubs in a tree in the back yard in the middle of the night. Now that was worrisome! If the cubs are in the tree, can Momma Bear be far behind?

Mom and Dad bought me a puppy

Caley was very selective with her doggie kisses, no endless, slobbering licks from her. She was far too dignified for that! If you got a kiss, you could consider yourself to be quite special! She loved to lie on the living room floor with her head on the glass-topped coffee table watching the news. Sometimes I think she totally understood everything that was said. She loved to snuggle and would happily lie at your feet or beside you on the floor for a quick nap.
Thunderstorms or even a smoke detector beeping to tell you that it needed a new battery sent her into panic mode. We had to keep some doggie tranquilizers on hand to get her through those scary moments!

After Mandy passed, Caley went downhill pretty rapidly. I don’t know whether it was her arthritis or her doggie irritable bowel syndrome. Maybe the loss of her best buddy decreased her will to fight her ailments, or perhaps at almost 13, she just decided it was time for her to leave this plane of existence. The last couple of months of her life were really a sort of doggie hospice. We gladly helped her up from a lying down position, eased her up and down the stairs with a doggie sling over her tummy, and cooked her an endless array of tempting foods—liver, chicken breast, pork chunks, and steak strips. We washed her behind when she had bowel issues and shampooed carpets continuously. We didn’t mind at all. As long as she was eating and enjoying life, we were more than willing to help her enjoy her waning days.

As she grew more debilitated and didn’t even want to go for short walks in the woods, we could clearly see that the end was in sight though. I worked for several years as a Hospice nurse and saw my human patients suffer and grow weaker, waiting for the inevitable outcome. With my human patients, all I could do was to try to ease their pain with ever more potent doses of pain killers and try to keep them comfortable. With our animal friends, we have the awesome power to help them cross over that final barrier. We agonized over that terrible decision. We don’t want to see them suffer, but we also don’t want to force them to hang on too long just because we can’t bear to lose them.

A few days before we decided it was time to help Caley cross over that Rainbow Bridge, I had the most vivid dream. Mandy came to me in a dream; she was young and healthy again with those sparking black eyes back that she had lost in this life. She snuggled up to me. I could feel her soft, silky hair and feel the warmth of her body. She lay on one side of me, and Caley lay on the other side. In my dream, I asked Bill, “Mandy is back. Can you see her? Can you see her?” Those of you who know me know that I firmly believe in a life after death, both for us and for our animal companions. I absolutely believe that Mandy came to me to let me know that she was fine and that it was OK to let Caley join her. “I’ll help her over the Bridge, Mom.” I woke up from a sound sleep, immediately knowing that this was no ordinary dream. Mandy truly came to me in that dream to reassure me that all would be well.

The next night, Bill and I didn’t get much sleep, talking over that oh-so-difficult decision. In the morning I called our vet who came to the house that afternoon. I told Caley that it was OK for her to leave us, that we recognized that it was her time to go. I really think she understood my words. We had a quiet day with just the three of us. When the vet came, he first gave her a sedative injection and left us alone for a while to be together. Then he came back into the house to give her that final injection. She passed peacefully sleeping with her head in my lap and her Daddy right beside her. Every dog that we love and lose takes a piece of our heart along with it, but in the tearful breaking of our hearts, our capacity to love increases and our hearts must grow larger.

Best Buddies

Well meaning friends and family ask when you are going to get another dog. I don’t know if we will this time. As you grown older, you hesitate to bringing another pet into your life. What if my next pet should outlive me? That is a totally disturbing thought to me! We may change our minds, but for now we try to get used to not having a dog in the house. Goodbye, Caley and Mandy. We love you both so much! We know we’ll see you both again in due time.