Why Gracie is still Here

I took my entire canine family to see Dr. Faber today for their accupunture, chiropractic adjustments, and holistic checkup.  Dr. Faber and I were talking about Gracie and her current state of health and when it's time to let her go.  Euthanasia.  A fancy word for killing.  No matter how I think of it, accept it, word it, the bottom line is that euthanasia is when I decide to end the life of my companion.  I know a number of my friends and acquaintances and readers wonder why I don't just "put her to sleep."  It's not putting her to sleep.  It's death. 


To explain why Gracie is still here, I need to share the story of Gus. 

Gracie thinks Gus's frisbee is delicious

Gus was with us for over 16 years.  He came to me before I met Ernie.  Just a tiny pup, brought to school by a few of my students.  He'd been found in the highway on the way from the Outer Banks to Virginia Beach.  The kids were told to find him a home.  Good grief!  That should NOT have been a child's responsibility, so I took him with the full intention of taking him to the SPCA.  Gus was covered in ticks.  And I mean COVERED.  I'd never seen anything like it.  I bathed him in my kitchen sink.  He was so exhausted, he slept through the entire bath.  I held him in my lap when I was done and he never left. Gus is the dog who taught me that animals are meant to be with  certain humans and somehow they find their way to us. 


He was a sweet, sweet dog who resembled a doberman-lab-hound mix.  All black with Dobie markings and the prettiest speckled boots.  He was goofy. Our first walk on a leash freaked him out so badly, we didn't get further than 2 houses away. It was my fault I didn't try until he was about 5 or 6 months old.  I met Ernie when Gus was a year old, give or take, and they bonded instantly.  Ernie taught Gus to play ball (where when I'd tried, the ball would bounce off his head and he'd look at me wondering why I'd done that) and he taught Gus to catch a Frisbee.  That dog loved, loved loved to run after Frisbees.  He lived for Frisbee.  And squirrels.  

Gus would snuggle with us, but he'd never stay still.  I called him my learning-disabled dog with A.D.D. Not to make fun of humans so afflicted, but he really did have issues.  Yet he persevered and became a dog that all of our friends loved. 

So some 16 years later, I noticed one morning a large swelling on his rear leg.  Overnight this appeared.  Short version; it was  a form of bone cancer. It didn't get better, but we did what we could to help him along.  He dragged his leg, requiring booties where he'd scraped his skin down nearly to his bone.   He only wanted to be with us.  After about a month, I thought it was time for him to go. 

I called the holistic vet I'd been using at the time.  She came to our home, Ernie and I both with Gus as she began to insert the needle to euthanize him. He balked and pulled away his leg.  Ernie was beside himself.  I didn't know what to think. We regrouped and tried again about 15 minutes later.  Gus, our sweet lab who knew no enemies tried to bite his doctor.  

We heard him.  He wasn't ready.  Dr. K was taken aback and I felt awful for her.  But we couldn't euthanize a dog that so clearly wasn't ready to go.  

We had another 3 months with Gus. He was fully functional until his last few days, when complications left him incapacitated.  He stopped eating.  He didn't want to leave us mentally, but his body was done.  He'd taught us so much about caring for a living being even in the worst of circumstances.  Just because a creature or human is old or ill, doesn't necessarily mean they are finished, complete or done. We tend to cast off our elderly.  We tend to ignore the ugliness of aging and illness.  We want it all to go away. I learned more from Gus in his last 4 months with us than I ever would have if we'd simply "put him down" when his cancer first arrived.  I wouldn't trade that time for anything, although it certainly would have been easier. 

After we had Gus euthanized, (this time he went very quickly,) as we were riding home in our van, I saw him, Gus, riding in the back with us.  I had no doubt we'd done it right. Not only were we on the way home, Gus was, too.  

Gus is with me in every painting since he died. He is the image on my business cards.  I have a soul symbol for him that appears somewhere on my canvas.  He was a goofy fun dog in life, and a wise teacher in death.  

So until Gracie tells me she has completed her life, I will honor her illness, her age and whatever wisdom she has to share.  I have no doubt she will let us know when her body is finished. 

Gracie : 2005