My Heart Is Broken
My female dalmatian, Sissy, has passed away. My daughter called me yesterday at work to tell me that she didn’t think Sissy was doing well and I should come home and take her to the vets. I raced home and got her to walk to the car and even into the vets. She moved very slowly and seemed weak and out of it. Her temp was 103 and the Vet felt she was anemic. They took some blood and said they would run some tests. The gave her some liquids through a drip and sent me home. I was told they would call me as soon as they had results.
When I got home she would not get out of the car. I carried her into the house and set her on the sofa. Within ten minutes, the doctor called. He told me she was anemic, so anemic that she was in a grave situation. He recommended a blood transfusion but I would have to go to Philadelphia for that and it would cost a couple thousand dollars, which I could not afford. He said he understood and had some medicine that I could pick up that would help her. I hung up and told Heather I was going back to the vets…
Heather insisted there was something wrong with Sissy. Her eyes were rolling up and she was not responding to her name. I called her and she did not respond. I went over to her and she looked like she was dying. I told Heather I was taking her back to the vets. As I picked her up off the sofa, he legs went stiff, she let out a little gasp, and went limp. “I think she just died,” I said. Heather shrieked, “No!”
She opened the front door and followed me to the car, crying and telling me she had money for the transfusion. She opened the passenger door and I laid Sissy onto the seat with her head resting on the armrest. I’m crying myself as I get into the car and tell Heather that I think it’s too late and that she is already dead. As I drive to the vets, she is staring at me. I’m crying and I rub her head telling her that I am so sorry. Sorry that I couldn’t help her and make her better–sorry that she was suffering–sorry that I couldn’t have kept her alive–and sorry because I was going to miss her so much more than I ever imagined I could miss something or someone.
I carried her into the vets and announced that I thought she was dead. They took me into the book room and checked her. Yes, she was dead. I started to cry again and I texted Heather and a few friends. Heather texted back that she was coming up to the vets with Aaron. They covered her with a Sponge Bob Square Pants blanket and let me have a few minutes with her. Her eyes were open and her tongue was slightly sticking out of her mouth. I tried to shut her eyes but they would not shut. I pulled her up towards me and buried my face into her neck, crying. She was my baby girl and she was gone forever.
I had always thought Dave would go first but life has a way of throwing us curveballs when we least expect it. Sissy was the runt. We picked her because her marking made her nose look like Mickey Mouse. We were going to sell her but we got no offers and kept her instead. That little dog has been part of my life since she was 6 weeks old. She was a feisty barker, unusual for dalmatians. She loved to play and you could throw a toy and she would bring it back over and over again. She loved tug of wars and those type of toys were her favorites.
She loved to sit on the sofa and watch the world go by, and bark at just about everything that did go by. At first appearances, she appeared mean. But she was a lover at heart. Always ready to sit on your lap, she would hug and kiss you as long as you wanted to do it. She would moan and grunt and thoroughly enjoy the contact with you. At times she would get up on her hind legs and try to hug you. She slept on the pillow next to my head and would not go to sleep until at least some part of her body was laying against me.
But now she is gone. It was strange sleeping without her last night and coming home from work but not seeing her face in the window. And I know poor Dave is sad as well. Heather and Aaron went out to the store last night and brought him home a pig’s ear. He wanted nothing to do with it. I tried to give it to him this morning and he turned his nose up to it. He walked slower today and did not pull me like he used to. In fact, he’s laying right next to me in about the same spot that Sissy would have been if she was still here. He’s 13 and starting to lose the use of one of his back legs. I worry about his health.
I am done with dogs. I have had many but never felt the loss like I feel with this one. I cannot go through this again. My heart aches for her and it aches for me because she was such a great comfort to me. She gave me so much and I hope I was able to give her at least a little bit of what she gave me. She was a bitch. She was a princess. She was a lover and a sweetheart. She was my dog and she died in my arms. I hope someday when it is my time to go, somehow she will be with me to help me find my way. I love you, Sissy.