A few days before going with all extended family members on a vacation, I got a strong feeling I didn't share or heed. My family always thought it sad that I gave up vacations because of my pets and since intuitive feelings are often not really intuition but cold feet I went with them this time. Three days later, standing at Universal Studios in Florida miles from my Indiana home, I listened as the petsitter explained through sobs the increasing lethargy, frailty and eventual collapse of my sweet 11-year-old Cocker Spaniel Ruffles n' Lace. Standing there with tears flowing, I learned that while she had returned to the house to simply take the dog to the vet after talking with him about her decline, she wound up discovering and lifting the warm, unwaking body from behind the commode where she often took naps and rushing her to the vet. I talked with the vet, learning that our sweet ever-puppy-Ruffles was completely unresponsive and that her heart was apparently failing but they didn't know why. Unable to hold her as she took her steps from this side of life to the next, I had to ask him to help her move on alone. The entire family sat in shock and tears while life at the park went on.
Ruffles, our Little Girl, had grown "older" after Shiloh, our Big Girl, died not quite two years ago but she was still in great shape. She had accepted Akaya into our lives and got along well with the kitten we got last summer. She still acted like a puppy several times daily. The day I left, the petsitter was going to show up a couple hours later. I left the pets in great hands with a very kind, pet-loving heart who chose to stay in our home so that they animals could remain in their own familiar environment together.
After her breakfast that morning, Ruffy "knocked" on my mother's bedroom door (Mom lives with me). I opened it and she did her usual hop up to the bed and leap across to snuggle with my mom -- a typical and beloved routine. The car was packed the night before to keep the morning rush to a minimum. I followed the normal daily departure routine to keep it as matter-of-fact and stress-free for them as possible. In the same order as always, I asked each to speak (even the cat) and gave a treat to each for doing it. I told them I loved them and would be back and left as I would any work day, wanting to stay but brushing away the thought "You won't see
the three again." I saw them together so often I thought of them as "the three." The feeling wouldn't leave but I thought that it was
I who wouldn't come out of the vacation okay, that I wouldn't make it home.
The vet had asked if we wanted to do an autopsy but we decided against it thinking it would hurt all the more if we found out the petsitter, or even we, had any kind of responsibility for the apparently sudden decline (it began within three days of us leaving). It wouldn't have changed the course of events. Maybe we were wrong not to find out but in the end, perhaps there is no right or wrong. I have the memory of briefly questioning a noticeablly strong heartbeat one evening before going and the knowledge that she was sleeping deeper and walking slower to make it seem it was a natural event and not some preventible event.
From all descriptions of the unfolding events, I believe the sitter did everything exactly as I would have (my mother concurs). Had I recognized the intuition more fully, I could have been there to say that last goodbye -- not the "I'll be back later" goodbye she heard last but the "We'll be together again one day" farewell I wound up having to share with her ethereally. I'll always wish I had been with her in her final moments (or perhaps, with her in time to help her survive something possibly survivable). I suffered terribly helping Shiloh move from here to the other side of the bridge because I was unable to have a vet help her before she began to suffer. Maybe fate decreed that Ruffles would take the decision into her own paws, so to speak, at a time when neither of her humans could take it into their hands and delay the inevitable somehow.
I came home to
The Two. However sad to have lost the third, this is how it was planned. Pikasso was added to become Akaya's buddy and ease her loss when the older dog crossed the bridge; the bond formed strongly. Slowly over the last months, I witnessed Akaya maturing as Ruffles, top dog all her life, relinquished her role bit by bit. It was as if Ruffles was not only accepting her impending end but also teaching Akaya how to become the dog-of-the-house. When Ruffles relinquished control of the food, her major control, it was hard. I hated seeing the changing of the guard yet I knew it was natural. Akaya and Pikasso have adjusted to her absence and seem even to have taken over some of Ruffle's behaviorisms with minor alterations.
I hated seeing Ruffles grow older but was pleased that she remained puppyish even to the end. It seems to me all our Cocker Spaniels remained eternally puppies. My last memories of Ruffy are of her final leap across the bed toward my Mom and her eager face as she spoke for a treat. I'll always miss her incredible wealth of tricks for treats, especially how she would "hula" (turn a circle) when I wiggled my hips. I'll miss her gentle demeanor, her shaggy coat as well as her beautiful Cocker cut when groomed, and her intelligence -- what an intelligent girl she was! -- among so many other things. If I'm ever to have another Cocker, I'll have to allow considerable time to pass to lessen the comparison because Ruffle's wit and charm might well never be equaled by another.
Two days after the loss, in the midst of a surge of sad thoughts and wishing I could have told her thanks for being part of our lives, I was walking past a shop window and saw a small white figurine of a spaniel holding a one-word sign. Ruffles had been a pet-shop puppy that I felt I had to rescue and she had wound up being the best dog we'd had yet (all breeder pups and farm mutts included). The sign of the puppy in the window said only "Thanks." I think it was not chance that I passed that way that day.
Ruffy: thanks for being part of our lives for almost twelve years! It was a life too quickly lived and finished, but it was a delight to have shared it with you! Run free now with Shiloh! I'll see you again eventually!
Crossed the bridge March 28, 2006