Saying good-bye.

DJ

October 28, 1991 - August 9, 2008

I first met DJ on December 21, 1991 - she was, technically, a Christmas gift to me, but I picked her out of a litter of 11 pups. And my gosh, but she was cute - a bundle of 8-week old, lab/golden retriever love. She was with me, and then Steve and I, until James was about 6 months old, but because she wasn't always aware when baby James was on the floor, she went to live with my sister. By then, she was almost 9 years old, and she and I had spent so much time together, playing frisbee, going for walks, playing frisbee, snuggling in my bed, and often, playing frisbee. Her frisbee of choice was an aerobie - that thing could go far and fast, and she - she could catch it.

DJ stayed with my sister from the summer of 2000, until Christmas, 2006, when she moved in with my mom into her new home across the street from my sis. So, she was never far away, and she still lived in the family. By then, she'd been diagnosed with a collapsing trachea, so her frisbee days had been over for a few years already.

All along, DJ's beautiful golden color slowly turned white, and she developed lots and lots of cysts. They didn't seem to bother her, so sis left them alone.


About eight months ago, DJ fell down the stairs in my mom's home, and ever since then, my mom slept with her downstairs - mom on the couch, and DJ on her doggie bed on the floor. These last few months have seen DJ go from a rickety but lively dog, to one who stares at nothing - at the walls, at memories long gone - who knows? Two months ago, mom had to stop feeding her dry food - DJ could no longer chew anything but the softest things. Her vision and hearing have been going, going, gone for months, and yet she hated to be left alone - somehow, she knew, and she'd moan a most pitiful sound until someone returned to her side. Last week, on her morning walk (about the length of ten cars), her rear legs buckled, and it took all of mom's strength to help get her up and walking again. Most recently, she's become completely incontinent, and she sleeps nearly all day, so keeping her clean is difficult at best.

A few days ago, my mom finally told my sister that it's time. Until then, mom insisted that she (DJ) wasn't ready, but last weekend, something changed. My sister said tonight, that mom is her moral guide - she's got the tenderest heart - and mom told my sis that she felt that DJ was in pain nearly all the time, but with no other way to tell us except for these low, pitiful moans.

And so, in a few hours - seven, as I type this - a mobile vet will come and ease DJ's transition from pain to...to...I don't know. The rainbow bridge? I don't know, but it's a nice thought. I wish desperately that I could be there, but it just hasn't been possible. But in any event, DJ was my first "baby", and nearly seventeen years ago, I had no idea that a golden little pup would leave such a lasting mark on our family.

My gosh, I'm sad. She's been alive for nearly half of my life, and we have so many memories with her - I used to take her with me to our family reunions, and my dad called her the first grandbaby. :) DJ and Polo were best buddies, once upon a time. And in seven short hours, yet another connection to that part of my past, will be gone.

She'll be buried in the middle of a 350-acre farm, under a small stone that will simply announce, "Here lies a friend."



Indeed.