Missing Sadie

If you know me, you know my dog drove me nuts.  I complained about her daily.  The way she was always standing in my way, no matter which direction I turned.  The way she jumped, impressively high, straight up in the air at the screen door when she wanted to come inside. The way she would wait until no one was looking and then sneak a sandwich off the counter. 

Sadie was not an easy dog.  She had separation anxiety, which meant she could never be alone in the house.  Whenever we left the house she had to go in her kennel until we returned.  (For those who don't know what separation anxiety entails: animals get so nervous when left alone, they lose control of their bowels).  She was a rescue, so it was understandable in the beginning, but rather than getting better over time, she got worse.  She started having accidents at night even though we were home and sleeping in the same room she did.  So we bought a kennel for our bedroom and kept her locked up at night.  Eventually she started having accidents simply being alone in a room.  I had to clean up after her once a week or so.  Which, as you can imagine, led to a significant amount of frustration on my part.  Like most dogs she would run to the front door (although, in the end it was a slow trot) barking at whoever was waiting on the other side.  But unlike most dogs, Sadie could jump several feet off the ground.  Straight up in the air.  This was both frightening and impressive to everyone who visited us.  And of course there was the dog hair.  Always the dog hair.

I have always been pretty vocal about the things that bothered me about our dog.  But I realize now that I wasn't always so vocal about why we kept her.  Loved her.  Sadie was gentle.  She was timid and kind.  You could take a bone right out of her mouth and she would let you.  Dropping it and stepping back with a what's mine is yours look on her face.  When Luna and Solei, her two best friends (who, together, are less than half of Sadie's size), were over, Luna would undoubtedly end up with Sadie's treat.  Sadie would watch Luna chewing, never trying to take it back.  Once, many years ago, I took Sadie to a dog park.  I would throw her frisbee and she would bring it back.  Until I threw it and another dog got to it first.  Sadie watched that dog run away with her toy and then she ran back to me empty handed, but happy.  The kids, when they were little, used her as a step to get up on the couch.  Or they would sit on her back and pull on her ears.  Or stick their fingers in her mouth.  And she took it all with a smile.  Quite literally, she would have a smile on her face.  I always heard that you're not supposed to trust a dog with young kids, but I always trusted Sadie.  And she never proved me wrong.  Her eyes said "love me" and how could you look into them and not?  We used to say she was a like a super model; pretty, but dumb.  But she wasn't dumb.  She knew she was loved and she loved us unconditionally in return.

The hardest park about loving a pet is knowing when it is time to end their pain and suffering.  We could have come up with endless excuses not to put Sadie down, but in the end she was getting noticeably sicker every day.  The growth in her throat made her cough and gag constantly throughout the day.  And made eating difficult and possibly even painful.  The cancer in her stomach made her once sleek 50 lbs. body look skeletal at only 34 lbs.  As much as we hated to admit it, it was time.

I used to daydream about not having to sweep up the dog hair.  Or vacuum the stairs several times a week.  Or about taking the kennel out of our bedroom.  There is still some dog hair around, I'm sure we will be finding it for a while yet.  But the empty spot in our bedroom, where the kennel used to be, breaks my heart.  And, so much more than I thought I would, I miss seeing this sweet face.

Thank you Michelle Trombetta for this beautiful picture.