I’m finding it harder and harder to write. I really thought this would be a little bit easier then it has been. Right now, as we go through another trial in our life, I feel like I need writing more than ever. Yet, I am having a difficult time putting my feelings down on paper.
I am a dog lover. Always have been, probably always will be. Growing up we always had a dog.
Tasha was the miniature schnauzer mom and dad had before they had kids. I never really bonded with her. I was too young. We then got Peaches. A lhaso apso that was very inbred. I loved her. She loved me. We gave her to a nice older couple that was home with her and could handle all of her issues. I was devastated.
But then we got Sheba. She was a mutt – part collie or sheltie part who knows what else. She was perfect and beautiful. She had one ear that stood straight and the other flopped over. She is the dog I grew up with. She is the dog that all other dogs have been compared to in my family. She stayed with me in my room when I was grounded so that I wasn’t alone. She was there for all the friend, boy and family problems every teenage girl goes through. She was my sister when my sister went off to college. She was everything to me. And then she got cancer. She was so sick. It was horrible. It was September of 2000. We had her put out of her misery. It was horrible. I still remember her trying to hang on for us. She didn’t close her eyes until my dad told her it was ok to let go. It was like she was waiting for the ok from the family she devoted her life to. He told her we would miss her and it was ok to go. And she did.
I was in my 2nd year of college when Sheba left us. It was about a month later that the family got Kaycee. A shy little shepherd mix. We brought her home on October 31st of 2000. We later added Sadie, a golden retriever, in April of 2001. I honestly believe that it took both of these dogs to sort of fill Sheba’s shoes. Kaycee and Sadie are the family dogs, but they really belong to my parents. My sister and i were paving our own paths. We were transitioning from teenagers to adults. From students to employees. From dependents to the independent young women our parents had groomed us to be. I love kaycee and Sadie as my parents’ dogs.
I was engaged and living with my best friend when I got Maggie. A sad, sick little hound mix of only 6 weeks old. She had pneumonia when we got, no, saved her. I nursed her back to health. She was my baby. She was amazing, smart, lovable, cuddly. She was my Sheba.
Her life was cut short. Maggie was born to run. She was born to be free. On that horrible New Year’s Eve in 2007, she dug her way out of our yard and she was set free from this world to run with the wind forever more. She died in my arms. It was horrible. I was devastated.
Maggie is the reason we have Sequoya. She is probably the reason we have Oakley although we got him after Maggie’s death. I love my dogs.
Now, faced with the decision to find a new, more suitable home for Sequoya, I can’t help but think about Maggie. I can’t help but feel like an unfit doggy mom. I can’t help but be sad. I love Sequoya. I don’t want to see her go. We got her when she was 4 weeks old. We fed her puppy formula. Once we discovered her eating disorder (Mega esophagus – she has a paralyzed esophagus) we ground her food, fed her at an angle and held her or propped her up for 20 to 30 minutes after she ate. Harley even went as far as to build her a puppy highchair. She was our baby. She was Maggie’s baby. Maggie wanted a playmate and we got her Sequoya. She was still our baby. When Maggie died, it was Sequoya that helped keep Harley and me going. We had a responsibility to her and she loved us. We mourned together. We grew together. We healed together. We picked up the pieces of our broken hearts and we moved on.
She is a German Shepherd. She is beautiful. She is smart, high energy, anxious, fast, agile, protective and crazy. And now, she is getting dog aggressive. Not all the time. Not to all dogs. But it is getting worse every time it seemingly randomly happens. We exercise her and we work with her, but we don’t do it every day. We don’t have time. I wish we had the time, but once Ayden came along and I got sick and we moved and work got more demanding, and, and, and . . . I could go on forever . . . the point is, we don’t have the time. She deserves more than what we are giving her. She needs more than what we are giving her. This last attack is the straw that broke the camel’s back. I wish it wasn’t. I wish it hadn’t happened, but it did. The dark reality of it all is we are . . . no, we were faced with a hard decision to make. We have made our decision. Sequoya deserves better then what we can give her.
So the search begins to find a home for our baby. We tell ourselves we are doing the right thing. I don’t know if I fully believe what I am saying. I know it is the right thing, but am I giving up to easily? Am I being selfish because I don’t want to put in the time, or do I really not have the time? Am I fit to be a mommy to dogs? Will she forgive us? Will she think that we didn’t love her? Will she know that we will always love her? Will Oakley be ok without Sequoya? Will Sequoya be ok without Oakley? Will Ayden wonder where she is? Will she remember us? Will she hate us? I feel that all I am left with is more questions. I feel that I may never find the right answer. I feel sick. I feel out of my mind. I feel crazy. I feel devastated.
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