Monday, April 30, 2018

Love hurts, our little girl is gone

After ten years together we've had to say goodbye to our little girl, my gardening side-kick, and the dog behind the danger garden...

Lila came to live with us at the end of October, 2008. She was only 7 then, yet the adoption paperwork already listed her as a senior dog.

We knew she’d had a rough go of it, a divorce in her family led to her being abandoned in the backyard. Prior to that they’d been breeding her and selling her pups, reports were she’d had three litters and lost one entire group to sickness.

Before we found her, the folks at Pacific Pug Rescue had been caring for her, and she’d bonded strongly with the lady who’d been fostering her. The night we became a new family the foster mom left, our front door shut, and here we were. Lila looked around the house, looked at us, and then threw herself at the front door, clawing to open it and began howling in the most painful way. We’d been rejected before we even began to love her.

Those first few weeks were rough, for me especially. Andrew wanted a dog, I did not. I’d always been a cat person. Dogs were too needy, too in your face. I remember showing a co-worker a photo of our new adoptee and her response was “don’t you just love her?” I replied no. No, I did not. I was learning to, but I wasn’t there yet. I felt like a furry alien had invaded my space. Yes, I had a long way to go, but thankfully Lila was patient.

If you heard my interview on Cultivating Place you know Lila and I eventually bonded during a bad winter storm. She saw me crying over plant catastrophes and made herself into a furry snow-clown, making me laugh despite my tears. How sweet was that?

Our bond deepened in December of 2009 when I broke my ankle. I was home-bound for 8 weeks and forced to use crutches to move around the house. Nurse Lila reported for duty and did not leave my side unless Andrew drug her out for a potty break. Of course, navigating a small house on crutches with a dog underfoot was difficult, but her love and attentiveness during that time was remarkable.

One April night in 2015 Andrew and I woke to a horrific sound. Lila’s paws were hitting the hardwood floor in a rhythmic pattern that was unnatural. She was having a seizure. She was stiff-as-a-bone when Andrew picked her up from her bed on the floor and put her on our bed. Somehow, I had the wherewithal to call Dove Lewis, our local 24-hr emergency pet hospital. I described what was happening (it was still happening) and they confirmed she was having a seizure. “She can still hear you, don’t say anything to alarm her, bring her in” …finally — after what felt like forever — the rhythmic movements stopped and her eyes again had life to them. We took turns holding her while the other dressed and were out the door to the hospital. She hadn’t moved her legs at all once she’d stopped seizing and I feared she wasn’t ever going to move them again, I feared this was the end.

On our way to the hospital I made peace with the fact we’d invited her into our lives and had a good run of 7 years, I was sad but thankful we had been able to care for this spunky little dog. And as odd it sounds, I started to mentally write how I would I let the world know she was gone. Writing is how I process. By putting the words together in my head, I was attempting to come to terms with the loss.

As Andrew pulled into the parking lot she stared to move her legs, by the time I stepped out of the car she was able to stand on her own. Hours later we learned there was no residual damage, but dogs who have a seizure later in life, with no earlier episodes, are thought to have a brain tumor. "Did we want to have a scan done?" For what purpose? Brain surgery? On a 14-year-old dog? No. She was so old the Vet didn’t even want to put her under to clean her teeth. Instead we embarked upon a regimen of anti-seizure medication every 8 hours. Every 8 hours. A pill at 5:30 am, 1:30 pm and 9:30 pm. Every single day. Talk about life altering. But we kept that up and she never had another seizure. Was the medicine really necessary? We’ll never know, but memory of that night’s horror was enough to motivate us.

The last three years have had a lot of ups and downs (including another night-time trip to Dove Lewis last July, where once again we thought we might be coming home without her), but for the most part she’s been a healthy, active, treasured, member of our family.

She lost her hearing a couple years ago. Opening drawers and cupboards no longer meant a dog running to the kitchen. You could say words like food, and treat, without her jumping to attention. I would get weepy at the memory of her adorable pug head hilt and the fact she didn’t do it any longer. People talk about the human/dog bond as being one of unconditional love, but we’ve always known she’s in it for the food. If meals didn’t show up regularly she would have let us know we were on thin-ice. Luckily that never happened.

The last seven or so weeks have been tough. Her decline has been quick. While we’d still get sparks of the old Lila, it was obvious she was suffering, too many maladies to list, plus doggie-dementia. Many people said “you’ll know when the time comes” … others offered “you’ll never know, but you’ll have to make the choice.” I’d say both are correct, and both are wrong. We’d mentally settle on a date, only to have a particularly bad day cause us to rethink it and want to end her suffering sooner. Then she’d rally and I’d think how could we have ever thought it was time? Well it is time.

Even though we lived here, and I gardened here, for 3 years before she joined us, this house and this garden are hers. It will feel so empty without her. So incredibly empty.

Blogging has taught me many things, one of which is that I will get through this. Us gardeners are animal lovers too. I’ve read as so many of my fellow bloggers have suffered this same loss, I’ve been amazed and inspired by their strength.

I will be taking a blogging break. I need to mourn without feeling pressure to write about a garden without her. I need to be with Andrew and my friends and be distracted from this loss. I will return. It may be a few days, a week, I'm not sure, but I will be back.

Most of all I will miss…
Her snores. The way she would use her paw to tap my foot when she was excited about something (usually food). How she could tell time and would let me know when I should start wrapping up a day of gardening so I could get (her) dinner ready. Her smell. How happy she was to be in the garden. How she would headbutt your legs and rub her eyes and nose against you so hard you felt like you might fall over. Her sleeping on my gardening clothes when I’d get in the shower and leave them on the floor. The way she smacked exaggeratedly when eating a treat. Her strength and determination, she was a small dog but if she decided we were going left, and I wanted to go right, she could quite literally pull me in the direction she wanted to go. How she loved blueberries, and carrots, and broccoli. How she’d howl like she was being skinned alive, just to see if you were within earshot, and stop as soon as she knew she wasn’t alone. How she used to hug my thigh when she’d snuggle up next to me on the couch, and how warm her belly was. How being on a lap was her favorite place to be, until it wasn’t. How soft her ears were. Her snaggle tooth. Her love of the sun.  Her, everything about her.

She taught me so much, she taught me to love in a way that I never had, and never thought I could.

All material © 2009-2018 by Loree Bohl for danger garden (dg). Unauthorized reproduction prohibited and just plain rude.

55 comments:

  1. What a beautiful memorial and a way to let us feel as if we'd met her in person. Thinking of you and Andrew.

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  2. I'm so very very sorry. I really enjoyed seeing pictures of her in your posts. I'm so glad you all had each other for the time you did, and wish you'd had more (always).

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  3. I am so sorry for the two of you. A life lived without dogs is unimaginable to me, and even though that last act of love is so difficult and painful, I will keep inviting them into my life until I myself am ready to go. I hope peace will find you both soon.

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  4. Im so sorry, crying as I read this, I just cant imagine.... she will be missed...

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  5. I'm mourning with you and Andrew. I've met many dogs, but Lila was such a character, she's right there at the top with the quirkiest dogs ever. Goodbye, Lila. You will be remembered.

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  6. I'm so very sorry. I have my own senior dogs who share my garden, so I've always really enjoyed your posts with Lila, including her attachment to Ted. I know she must have loved you and Andrew both so much for adopting her and making her golden years, well, so golden.

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  7. Loree, hope you find comfort.

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  8. Grand Dame Lila. Thank you for gracing us.

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  9. Loree, what a beautiful tribute to Lila. Best wishes to you and Andrew, and everyone who will miss her.

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  10. What a beautiful tribute to a beloved furbaby. I totally understand. All of it.

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  11. That was a lovely tribute to Lila . Philip is going to come home to me in floods of tears again.

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  12. Loree, I’m so very sorry. You can think you’re prepared but it always hits you like a truck. I’m so glad I got to enjoy Lila’s unique presence a few times; she was a perfect spirit and symbol for your garden. Rest in peace, sweet girl. And hugs to you and Andrew.

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  13. I feared this was coming. Thank you so much for the strength to tell Lila's remarkable story (three litters?!) Such honesty and purity in that sweet little face. Mischief too! Massive hugs to you and Andrew.

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  14. This brought tears to my eyes. We have a second hand dog, whom we believe to be about 17 years old. Nearly daily, we think it is her lady, yet on she goes.

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  15. Loree, my heart’s broken for you and Andrew. Lila was blessed to have you both. Hugs from SoCal—

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  16. Oh, Honey, a beautiful tribute. Sweet Lila, much loved. I'm so damn sorry. Love & Hugs.

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  17. I’m so very sorry. This is so beautiful and heartbreaking all at the same time. I’m glad I had the opportunity to meet Lila. I hope that you are filled with the love and comfort of friends and family in this tough time. Sending my thoughts and prayers to you and Andrew.

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  18. The worst. The emptiness is so awful. The routines and sounds that are wiped from existence are just so damn hard. I'm so sorry. It does get easier, but only with time.

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  19. What a sad and cherished post. It left me teary-eyed. I cannot imagine the pain you and Andrew must feel. I hope you find solace with family and friends, and in gardening.

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  20. So sorry my friend. Thinking fondly of you always and especially now as you mourn the loss of your sweet and spunky Lila. A beautiful tribute to a special spirit. Hugs to you both.

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  21. There's never enough time, is there? So very sorry your girl is gone, and a huge part of your heart with her.

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  22. I'm so sorry, Loree. Even when you know it's coming and your rational mind sorts things through, facing it still feels as if your heart is being yanked from your chest. I wish I could offer a prescription, or say or do something to ease the pain you and Andrew are feeling, but sadly that's not how mourning works. Lila was well-loved and in turn she gave you everything she had. She'll always be with you even if she's not physically present.

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  23. These are the most wonderful photos of a beloved, sweet pet and a beautiful, touching tribute. I process things by writing about them too. I had no idea you were a cat person before Lila came into your life, but I'm glad you two bonded finally. We had a situation with an elderly cat many years ago that we had to medicate every day, it's not an easy chore. Take a much-needed break.

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  24. Tears are dripping down my cheeks as I read this, and still, I know that is nothing compared how you and Andrew feel. My heart aches for you both as you try to navigate the new normal. Your love for Lila oozes from both words and photos - what a radiant tribute to your life together... When I first saw your FB post, I went outside, and sat with my cat on my lap for a long while, meditating on transferring some furry love your way. I think he knew I was sad - he stayed with me longer than usual. Holding you both in my heart.

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  25. You've written so beautifully about her, that it's a bit comforting just to read your words about Lila. Take your break - you need it. I'm still trying to process what my garden is about without Bella to keep an eye on me as I work...

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  26. Oh, Loree, tears...just tears. It is so hard. We are so so sorry for your loss. Hugs to you both. You are so brave to put it all out there, and so wonderful. That you experienced the love Lila had to share was an amazing gift to you both.

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  27. So sorry for your loss, I can tell just from these pictures how much love there was between you.

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  28. What a beautiful tribute to a much loved companion that will be sorely missed. Thoughts are with you both xxx

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  29. Words from the heart for sure. Eventually all the photos and fond memories will turn your tears to smiles and you have plenty of both.

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  30. Steve B.May 01, 2018

    Your writing is beautiful. I now feel like I knew Lila. I'm so sorry for your loss and glad you're taking time to process and heal. I do look forward to your return because I love seeing your garden and your adventures.

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  31. Very sorry for your loss.

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  32. Oh man. I'm so sorry. Pups-they break your heart.

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  33. You captured her so well! All who know you thru your blog are grieving with you! We loved Lila too! I have tears streaming down my cheeks as I read your beautiful memorial blog. I am happy that Lila came to you and had 10 wonderful years! Thank you for sharing your story, your garden and Lila with us! HUGS

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  34. I know you and Andrew will miss that silver muzzle and those gray footsies. She would be thrilled to see her obit written with such love and affection. Peace.

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  35. I'm so sorry for the loss of your sweet girl and the hole she's left in your heart. I've been there, and though it doesn't feel like it now, the pain will subside at some point. I'm glad you're taking a break and not rushing it. You need time to heal. Our pets are so much more than 'pets', aren't they? They're little souls who join us in our journey through life and leave such a profound mark on us. Lucky you and lucky Lila to have found each other.

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  36. She did teach you and Andrew how she wanted to be loved, didn't she? You were her gift as much as she was yours. Smile with every memory with her. Come back to all of us when the time is right. Sweet dreams with Lila bossing you around, she's telling you she's okay.

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  37. So sorry to read of Lila's passing and the sadness you and Andrew are feeling, Loree. A fine tribute post to her memory. She lived a good, long life and the blessings bestowed and taken were mutual. Hugs.

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  38. Oh Loree. My heart is breaking. Just so, so sad.
    Thank you for this beautiful tribute to precious Lila.
    I’ve loved watching her, another black puggie, for awhile now. Your account of what you’ll miss about her is spot on. Yes, her exaggerating smacking as she chews a favorite treat. Yes, her snoring.
    I send you big pug hugs and wish you the solace that only sweet memories and lots of time will bring.

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  39. I found you through Lily Munster and her beautiful people. Lost my Boston terrier Chet Baker last August. And I too was composing his last post for months. Years. It's how I process too. Here's what I can say from 8 months on down the road. You owe nothing to no one as regards this loss, this dog, your blog. If it helps to write, good for everyone. If you don't feel like writing, so be it. Everything you wrote here resonates for me. Since Chet left I've folded in on myself. I don't want another dog. Condolence letters made me feel worse. People seemed to want me to get another dog for their amusement. Someone suggested I adopt a 12 year old Boston. Sent me links etc. because I need to go through that again?! So I just don't talk about it. Take care of yourself. Be kind and easy with you. You write beautifully. Thank you. It gets better. The pain goes away and you can smile about her. I wish that for you.

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  40. As others have said, this is a beautiful tribute not only to Lila but to the life the three of you had together. Take your time - cry the tears, remember the funny and lovely and loving things, and know you will always remember her and your time together.

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  41. What a beautiful tribute to Lila. Thank you for sharing your love story. Wishing you peace.

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  42. Dogs make us better. They give so much more than they take.

    Lila surely knew she won the human lottery when she got you and Andrew. She just didn't want to spoil you by admitting it.

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  43. Brings tears to my eyes reading this, I have no idea what your going through, but know how I will feel when I may my four legged personal companion.Thinking of you x

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  44. Loree, this is just beautiful. Reading your words was a wonderful tribute to Lila's story and how you came to love her so much.

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  45. I have been fearing this blogpost and what I would feel/say. Lila was a part of our garden lives. To say I know how you feel would be so unfair but I am reminded of my rescued cat,Loki,now buried in my garden, the best, so special but then Buddy found my garden and wanted to stay and wanted to live in my heart and become another endearing furry friend. I am greatful to my heart for opening again. Sweet Lila you will be missed by many.

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  46. AnonymousMay 03, 2018

    We wish you comfort and peace. Lila was awesome (and, really, just incredibly sweet and cute (in person, and in pictures!). We're glad you three had the chance to enjoy each other's company for a longer time than you might have hoped.

    We are all better for sharing our lives, love and resources with those who need us.

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  47. I have been reading your blog for many years. So long I do not remember when I first found you. But I remember reading the 'about me' and you even share Lila there. One of the first posts I read featured Lila peeking out from a hidden place and I shared this with our daughter. We both loved how Lila didn't look like a dog but reminded us of some sort of story book creature. The Internet is strange. I feel I know you as well as any neighbor but you would not recognize me. You have been in my thoughts all week as I have thought of what to say. A being can touch another's life even without physical presence. Loree, you and Lila have touched mine. Thank you for sharing your considerable talent. Your photos, your prose, your garden and most of all your kindness. Jennifer

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  48. I am crying after reading this. I loved seeing her stalwart figure in your garden. I am sorry for your loss.

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  49. I am so, so sorry Loree. I remember her as being such a sweet dog. This is very painful. Thank you so much for your beautiful tribute to her and your shared life.
    Very powerful.

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  50. I am so sorry for your loss. I know how much it hurts to lose a beloved pet. I am so thankful that you adopted her (and that she was finally rescued from her horrible former life). She had good years with you in the garden and is waiting to see you again one day - just like several of mine are waiting for me. You will always miss her. It is good that you learned how much love a pup can bring to your life.

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  51. I am so incredibly sorry for your loss. Thank you for rescuing her and loving her for so many years. I just found your blog as I'm wandering into bamboo and realized you are my same town. I also love dogs, and have 3 plus foster on and off. It is so painful to lose our family members, taking a break is well deserved. Thank you for the lovely post about her, I feel like I knew her:)

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  52. What a beautiful tribute. Gardening and pets go together - they make it so much more enjoyable. Very sorry for your loss. Lila had a great life and was lucky to find you and Andrew. I know you're proud.

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  53. I am so sorry for your loss. Many of us love our pets perhaps more than we love the general population. Arizona was not kind to my Oregon born pets. After I moved here my dear yellow lab went blind from sudden diabetes onset. She lasted a year blind and declining in health until I had to have her put down.
    Then I lost Rusty, my adoptee from Columbia County Animal Shelter in St. Helens, OR...to a similar seizure malady probably Desert Fever. He died on election night 2016. Things were REALLY bad that night needless to say and days to come.
    My sincere condolences to you. Your tribute made me very emotional. Need that every once in awhile.

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  54. I'm so sorry for your loss! May your memories bring you comfort in these difficult days

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