My one true love is leaving me soon. I know it, they know it and we are coming to terms with it.
14 years ago, I bought my first house. I had help from my mom, but this was my house, mine to decorate and populate as I saw fit. I moved in with all my books, clothes and a bird. A bird I had given my brother as a gift that somehow found its way back to me. Yet something was missing. A dog. My dog, Lily Marie.
She was born on Easter Sunday, in the dining room of a house on a nearby lake. Her mother was a pure breed Border Collie that climbed a 6’ fence to get out and party with the neighborhood Black Lab. She’s always been more Border Collie than Lab. She refuses to discuss her mother’s torrid past.
I’ve had a dog since I was 10. First a German Shepard mix named Woof. Then came 25 years of German Shorthairs: Belle Von der Nacht, her son Ch. Snert of Hagar, his daughter Gnomie, a mixed breed called Bell , a GSP rescue Klaus. Old age, cancer and a car ended their lives. I was there in the beginning for a few, in the end for a few and deeply touched by all, but none meant as much to me as my current dog Lily, not even my beloved show dog, Snert.
Lily is dying. I know that. She does too. She’s not ready to go, she just accepting of the process I’m struggling with. She is so very Zen, my rock, my touchstone. She has been there through jobs, men, cars, my own poor health, family craziness and celebrations. She is the smartest dog I’ve ever had. I trust her to tell me when is she is done being old and sick and slow. When car rides aren’t fun, pizza no longer makes her dance with joy and she is ready to finally meet Snert.
She’s here now, lying next to my chair as I type this. Her love and support has always been the quite kind. No cuddling or big wet kisses, no sleeping on my bed. She is content to be nearby, waiting, watching. I remember when she was a puppy and I was housebreaking her. She’d stand by the backdoor, starring at me with that Border Collie look. I don’t think I trained her, she accepted the rules that suited her need for structure and order.
We've fought cancer the last three years. We're holding our own in that fight. We're fighting irritating eye issues now. Eye drops, pills, creams and a small surgery, all in hope of keeping her eye. Her eyes are such a big part of who she is. They are how she communicates, expresses her disdain, orders her pack around.
I'm barely hanging on financially. 18 months out of work, COBRA and unemployment running out. Working 5 small jobs to keep my house, pay my bills. I will sell everything I own, every last piece of jewelry, every antique to keep Lily comfortable until she is ready. She has given me so much these last 14 years, it is the very least I can do for her.
As I walked out of the vet today, tears running down my cheeks behind my sunglasses she licked my hand to thank me for still believing in her and trusting her judgment. I can only hope I am granted my last gift to her. Please let Miss Lily die in her sleep, curled up by her hose, hiding in her jungle.
