Hunter's Last Breath
My writing professors said you can't write well when you write about anything too close to home, too emotional. In that case, this entry will be poorly written because I miss my dog terribly. I know he was "just a dog," and that I'm so blessed the only family I've had to bury is a dog thus far...but he was my dog, and he loved me well. Hunter was such an unexpected personalized gift from God to me in the midst of some really tough times and I'm forever grateful to God for giving me his affection.
He was diagnosed with liver cancer a short three weeks ago and had recently quit eating. He couldn't drink on his own so we had to lift his bowl. His belly hurt and he groaned when he lay down or stood up and sometimes in his sleep, but he still never once snapped--not even during the injection, but only moaned softly. He was nine years old.
The Vet came to mom's house this evening to do it. Doug's mom was kind enough to come watch the kids short notice so I could be there with Hunter, where we took him in the garden and lay on a sheet together. The sunset was spectacular and he was so sweet and peaceful--I can barely stand to think of it. He lay down with me and we nuzzled noses--needless to say, I completely lost it...the Vet almost prolonged the whole thing because I was so upset. But he made me feel better by saying it was about quality of life, and I didn't want him to suffer...it just still seems so unnatural to end any creature's life like that, though. Except for his weight-loss, he seemed so young and healthy still.
We hugged him there on the sheet. I hugged his belly and chest and cried into his fur, and was like this when I felt his last breath leave him. It only took 15-20 seconds from the first injection of anesthesia--so quick. Too quick.
I felt him die...I felt him leave, all around me--even before I felt that last breath leave his body, I just knew he wasn't there anymore--he was gone.
My dad tells a story about being in high school and doing homework in his room when he just knew all of ther sudden that his dog died. "Blitzen's dead," he said to himself. Sure enough...he went to the yard to find him dead. He says he just knew.
I never understood that, but now I do. If I'd been inside the house, I'm convinced I might have felt it still. It's like there's life...more than physical breath and bloodflow, but life, and then it's gone, and you're left with just a shell. It's more than the absence of a functioning body, it's the complete vacating of a personality. It's not the way things were created to be, and as I said before, I'm so glad this is my only intimate acquaintace with grief. Praise God He has remedied the curse of death for us and our loved ones with His precious Son.
Hunter, I can't tell you what God brought me through, using you. You were the best teddy bear, the truest friend, the most unconditional love, and I miss you so. Thank you, Hunt...from the deepest depths of my heart...thank you, my baby boy.
I'll post my "Yellowdog" poem when I can find it, (not that anyone's sitting on pins and needles about it,) but if it ever had a meaning or purpose (at least to me) then it's now.
