My Goldyn Lament

Sliding open the backyard door, I am greeted with such strange silence. The plants and trees still host the birds, the lizards, and the squirrels, but the one who patrolled it is only in my mind. His evidence is all around me, as I work my way around the yard, completing my watering chore.  I find his favorite shade spots he often hid in just to avoid the daytime heat.  I know exactly where he buried that lamb chop bone to enjoy at a later date, and the bare faced tennis balls are stuck along the edge of the patio deck. The pool is calm, no ripples from a wading, thirsty dog. Even the stucco on our home is dry with brown faded streaks from the numerous times he used it as a wringer for his coat. No barks are heard for the Friday garbage collectors or for the dog at the corner fence. My Goldilocks has been laid to rest.

My loyal and loving Rottie mix is gone after almost 12 years of family life with us.  I don't know what it is about dogs that have always captured my heart in such a special way, but I believe they are one of the best creatures God has ever brought to life.  My Goldyn ranks right up there, with all of my buddies I had before, e.g. Bandit, Brawny, Quasimoto, and sweet Taffy Apple.  I can look back on my life, my almost 30 years of married life and define it all by the dogs that have shaped each year. Each dog taught me lessons that I probably wouldn't have learned otherwise, and Goldyn did his share and more. . . 

Bandit

Quasimoto

Brawny

Taffy

Of course, in hindsight, I wish they could truly tell us how they feel and what is really going on, but all we get is a grin and loving licks.  Goldyn often sat on my lap as best as his 80 plus pounds would allow him to do.  We'd enjoy an evening sunset on the patio recliner or a movie on the couch.  He seemed proud to have his personal space with his Mom, and would announce it to any others who came into the room.  He loved to please, to snatch and capture, and bring you his treasures from wastebaskets, bedrooms, and kitchen towel racks.  Kleenex tissues and napkins were delightful to tear and chew, socks were fun to search and hunt around for and stolen towels always provided an opportunity for playing chase. But belly scratches were his favorites, as he completely fanned himself out on his back and awaited your attention.  He often was my alarm clock, after his night of sleep on my side of the room.  His right hand paw reached up to me, scratching several times until I responded. Then there he was, big head and all, right in my face, grinning and ready to start our day . . . 

It was that front right leg that clued me in a few weeks ago.  Goldy started with a mild limp, that made me think he had strained another ligament, like he had done with his hind leg awhile back.  After all, he was big but agile, often jumping off our block wall in his haste to chase a cat or another dog passing by in the front. So I nursed him with ice, massaged his leg with essential oils and Aspercream. I wrapped it in an ace, I covered it with a nice warm towel as he fell asleep at night.  I googled elbow braces thinking that the cyst he had on the elbow may be contributing to his weakness. I increased his dose of daily Glucosamine.  His appetite, his bodily functions all seemed good.  I could not find the exact source of any pain, no matter how much I pushed, prodded, and manipulated his leg.  Yet, on occasion, with certain movements he did, mostly when trying to get up on the couch or jump up on me, he winced. Some days he seemed to be responding to my remedies, others I was not too sure.  Yes, I knew he was in his senior years, and I wouldn't put him through surgeries that may not hold promise for a positive return. . . 

I wasn't prepared to see his xrays.  I kept thinking that it was probably bad arthritis, and hopefully I could treat him with pain medication and he'd just be "a gimpy limpy dog."   But I also knew something was worsening within him, for his limp was causing him to hold his paw up, he couldn't go down the steps in the backyard, and getting into my car was no longer done with ease or without a terrible yelp of pain.  The vet was kind and gentle as she pointed out first his perfectly good left leg, but then showed me the image of his right.  I knew before she ever explained, the xray lacked definition and margins, I even wondered if it was dislocated or fractured.  "No," she said, the images gave evidence of bone cancer extensive in his leg.  Amputation and chemotherapy would be an option to consider, but I would not do that to my Goldy, so happy to always run free with me.  My mind flashed back to all the miles he and I had with our walks up the hill and runs back down, hundreds I'm sure. . . 

Goldy was in pain, I knew now severe, and I finally got what he couldn't directly tell me.  I wasn't going to inflict any more hardship on such a faithful companion.  He loved and trusted me to the very end, as he rolled into my arms for me to hug and hold. My tears wouldn't stop as I sensed his stress of going through the xrays, persisting with the pain that he didn't want me to see. I read the exhaustion in his heavy panting and knew he was so very tired of trying to walk each step. . . 

He's the only other dog, besides Taffy that I have put to sleep.  I stayed right with him, with my arms and head buried in his neck.  His labored breathing eased and quietly his spirit left.  I closed his eyes, and gave him one more hug.  I seemed the only one that day that came in with a dog, and left in hand with just a leash and collar. I couldn't go home quite yet, my car was so empty but not, as I sensed his presence breathing on my back.  I stopped at one of the parks where we had often walked and ran.  Everywhere I went on the trail, I found familiar memories jumping out at me.  Each one of them called out for Goldyn . . . 

Will I ever get another dog?  Probably, most likely, as I can't imagine life, "59 and counting," without one.  But for now, I lament for Goldyn, my coyote, my poophead, my pound puppy, my boy with the crooked seat, my one and only Goldy . . .