And in the end...

One month from today, we will celebrate the 14 year anniversary of my parents finding Lola on the road in the mountains. When they found her sitting there, a six week old, yowling puppy, they got her into the car, wrapped her in a coat, and got her up to the cabin. They found a box, put her in it. Opened the oven and turned it on and put the box on the oven door to get her warmed up.

They fed her some of the roast beef from their sandwiches, and with that, she fell asleep.

When they brought her home to me that afternoon, she was still pretty zonked, and they were worried that she might not pull through. We took her to the Vet – they looked her over and said she was probably about six weeks old, and seemed to be OK. They put a bowl of food and a bowl of water in front of her. She inhaled both, peed on the exam table and from there, we haven’t looked back.

Lola has been, without question, one of the most important influences in my life. Ever. Maybe you think that’s overstating it, and maybe it is. But Lola is part of what helped me get my shit together. At the time that I got Lola, I had been dumped and laid off from my first job – I was still living with my parents and nursing a wounded heart, a depleted bank account, and was working part-time at Macy's, part time doing internet research at Nexchange.

Within six months of getting Lola, I had a full-time gig at Nexchange, I was moving into my first apartment, and I was dating.  Dating a loser, but within a year of that, I'd be dating the man who would become my husband.

I think it's worth mentioning that Lola vetoed two potential suitors - the first because I saw how he treated her.  The second, she gave a clear sign of disdain by walking up to him and shitting at his feet.  Bless her heart, she was right.

I knew Matt was going to be a keeper when, within two minutes of meeting him, Lola hopped in his lap and leaned up against him, happy as a clam.

Today, one month shy of fourteen years together, I took Lola to a different Vet.  This time, sadly, I came home without her.

About a year and a half ago, Lola was diagnosed with congestive heart failure.  Today, after a lot of watching, waiting and soul searching (to say nothing of Googling), we decided that it was time to let her go.  She's been on a decline for about a year, and the past few months, the drop was even sharper.  She had a rough night last night, she's had several before it, and we felt that the kindest thing to do was preempt further pain and suffering.

It was hard to let go, but she deserved the kindest end we could give her, and we felt this was it.

I'm sure I'll second guess myself at some point, but I truly think we did the right thing.

I will miss her terribly.  She's been gone less than two hours and I've already caught myself thinking, "Wait where's...oh."

She was a great dog.  A good friend, therapist, security blanket, exercise equipment.  She was a clown and a princess and a hobo.

She loved cake and sausage.  She would go to great lengths to steal them off the table.

She was with me on some of the best and worst days of my life, and I will miss her terribly.

But 13 years and 11 months is a pretty good run.  And for that, I'm grateful.

Goodbye, Amicalola Moonshine Kennedy Breyer Everett.

Love on four legs.



My heart breaks for you. My friend Drummer Boy is dealing with the same thing with his kitty right now, and another friend just lost her beloved dog. I feel sad for all of you, and I'll hug my own menagerie closer today in your honor.
Shel said…
I'm so sorry for your loss. You and yours will be in my thoughts. She was a lovely girl.