January 11, 2006 - 12:26 AM
I first want to apologize to those who read about Arabelle's passing through the poem I wrote. The poem was my way of expressing my feelings at the time, and as always, I wanted to share it here in my journal. However, I know that this meant that it caught many of you by unpleasant surprise and left you with many questions.
When I retired Arabelle in April of 2004, nearly 2 years ago, I knew at that time that each day we were able to share with her would be precious, and they were indeed. Arabelle had a couple of slipped disks, and although I believe that her retirement slowed down the physical deterioration process for my girl, arthritis, joint and overall back trouble were obviously taking it's toll on her hips and hind quarters. Even though she would move slower at times, have little leg spasms, etc. she never complained. Not even once. She'd always greet me at the door when I came home, barking and wagging her tail with glee. She would often try to play with Geneva or Madison, or both, although she, here near the end usually halted that activity once she tried, I'm sure due to pain. Going up and down the stairs to relieve in the yard became more difficult for her, and so a couple of months ago, Lyle put in a relieving box for her on the deck. But I was the only one who could get her to use it.
Anyway, I always knew that Arabelle would let me know when it was time to say good-bye. I must admit, that the selfish part of me hoped the day would never come, or that she would just pass away in her sleep so that I wouldn't have to make that decision. But Sunday was the day. I had been gone for about 5 hours at a meeting and training for Advisory board members of Rainbow girls. When I got home, all the dogs greeted me with excitement, but Arabelle didn't get to me right away. Her leg began having a spasm and then her back legs would both give out, going different directions, almost making her do the splits. She struggled to gain control and finally did get all four feet flat on the floor and ran over to me, kissing me and showing me her love for me. These spasms in her back legs continued the rest of the night, followed by her losing control of her legs, struggling to stand. She never whimpered or made a sound that she was hurting, but I know she had to be. She has a doghouse in our family room that has been hers from the day I came home with her, and it has always been her refuge. When I heard her in their, trying to come out, and flailing around, spilling her water bowl, etc., I just knew the time had arrived.
I told the girls both that night, and although we all cried at the thought, we knew it was the right thing to do.
Yesterday morning, I phoned our Vet clinic and made an appointment to take her in to be Euthanized. I came home a little early from work and spent some time with her talking to her, petting her, loving her. When Amanda came home from school, we began getting ready. Amelia witnessed Arabelle going over to Geneva and giving her a kiss, which somehow gave us a bit of comfort.
I carried Arabelle down to the car so that she wouldn't have to deal with the stairs. We arrived at the clinic about 3:00, and Amanda, who sat in the back with Arabelle, waited in the car until they had a room ready for her.
Arabelle always was nervous at the Vet, her body shaking vigorously and ready to bolt for the door to leave. But this time something very different happened. There was a calm over Arabelle, no shaking, just an air of peace. A comforter was laid on the floor and she lye down on it seeming to enjoy the gentle stroking and voices of Amelia, Amanda and I. Dr. Yeik was held up longer than expected, so we were in there about twenty minutes before he came in. Just prior to that, our friends Jack and Frances showed up. They came to help us transport Arabelle's body out to their property to be buried. Anyway, Arabelle was given a shot with a tranquilizer and sedative in it and we were left with her for about fifteen minutes while it took effect. She drifted into a deep sleep. Before giving her that first shot, Dr. Yeik leaned over and kissed Arabelle on the head, telling her what a special dog she had been. He was crying a bit too. The final shot took only a couple of minutes to work, and Arabelle's heart stopped at about 3:50pm.
Geneva was with us the entire time, and although during most of it she lay at my feet, after the first shot was administered, she stretched herself and scooched her way to Arabelle, resting her head on Arabelle's hind quarters. I had to move her for the final shot so that the doctor could do what he needed to do, but Geneva just seemed to understand.
Throughout this process, emotions were running rampid. I believe that the tears I cried were more for the pain my daughters were experiencing than for my own loss. This whole ordeal seemed to hit Amanda extra hard, but tonight she seems to be doing much better. I praise God for their individual Faith, for their compassionate hearts, and for their trust in me to make right decisions.
We left the clinic, following Jack and Frances the near hour drive to their home, which also serves as Camp Harobed, a local camp for blind adults and their families. This is a place that Arabelle loved, and I know that burying her under a big tree in a beautiful garden area brought all of us a sense of peace.
We arrived back home around 7:30, exhausted and cold, emotionally drained, and just plain tired. The house is much quieter now, and the quietness is almost eerie. We no longer here Arabelle's alerting barks and nonthreatening growls when she thought she heard something, or the jingle of her chain as she moved through the house. Things are very different around here without her, but that's as it should be.
Some might say that going through the loss of a guide is the reason why they stick with a cane. But I am truly a better person for having had the past eight-and-a-half years with Arabelle. She may be gone from our earthly presence, but her spirit will always be a part of my life.
Thanks to each of yu who have written me with warm thoughts and prayers of condolences. I am humbled by such love and friendship.
Hugs,
Cindy & Geneva
