The dreary weather here in Virginia fits in perfectly with my mood. It was a year ago today that I said goodbye to one of my very best friends; my old dog Holly. She was one of those "once in a lifetime" dogs; the dog that you'll one day tell your children and grandchildren about. If dogs are anything like people, I think our other two dogs probably looked at her and thought, "that's the kind of dog I want to be like when I grow up." She was just that wonderful.
Superficially speaking, Holly was absolutely gorgeous. She was a mixed breed of German Shepherd and Husky descent and had the beautiful black and tan markings of the Shepherd and one blue eye of the Husky. She was strong and lean and in her younger days, quick enough to catch birds. I often took her running with me and always felt safer with her by my side.
I missed her desperately when I was away at college. I always felt guilty for leaving her behind, but tried to make up for it when I was home on break by showering her with attention and walking her on the trail near my parent's house. I didn't take her with me when I moved to the DC area after college. She never was good with change and I didn't want to uproot her from the home she had lived in almost all her life.
As Holly got older, she slowed down a lot and spent most of her time napping in the sun. She got really thin and wasn't interested in food anymore. She started having problems walking and getting up the stairs and often fell while trying to squat to pee. We gave her arthritis medicine and that helped a little, but not a lot. We took her to the veterinarian when she began breathing heavily all the time, even when she was laying down. The doctor told us that there really wasn't anything we could do. There was a problem with the flap in her throat and at any time it could fail to open and would essentially suffocate her.
That's when my mom and I decided it was most humane to have her put to sleep. I agonized over the decision. I had a serious breakdown two nights before her appointment and sobbed for hours, wondering if there was anything else we could do for her, if we were doing the right thing. I knew that she was suffering and that life wasn't enjoyable for her. She wouldn't even let me pet her anymore; she just wanted to be left alone. Taking her to that final appointment is probably the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. But I'm so grateful that I was there to spend those last few moments with her. She slipped away peacefully, surrounded by my mom and I.
One whole year has passed now, yet the pain of losing Holly hasn't subsided. She's the whole reason I started this blog, to write about my loss, the loss of her. I still miss her terribly. I cry when I think of her, cry when I write about her and even cry when I see other dogs that look like her. It's so incredible how one dog can have such an impact on your life. It was such a privilege to have loved her and to be loved by her in return. I will definitely share tales of her with my children and grandchildren. Holly was just that special.
