It’s pouring down rain in Philadelphia. Pouring like tears I can’t stop. We’ve lost a member of our family.
I knew in my heart she wasn’t well. I knew the last time she was at the vet we were dancing around whether to do more tests. More tests to show what I knew and didn’t want to know.
Angel was 12 and was no angel. Oh, but we loved her spoiled rottenness and her sweetness. From the time she was a pup she was a contradiction. Half golden, half border collie, she was among a litter considered a mistake and given away by a breeder.
She was too smart and trained us more than we trained her. She hated rain. She loved snow. She truly despised other dogs, but loved (and tortured) our cat. Angel was sweet and gentle with babies but humped toddlers. I can’t remember a person (neighbors, mailman, friends) she didn’t want to lick and shake hands with. ( That may be why our recent house burglar was not deterred.) Yet she barked at everything that moved outside much to the dismay of one neighbor.
Angel could learn any trick you taught her but performed only when she felt like it. She howled like I was her long lost friend when I came home from work and could not be calmed until I gave her a good pet down and butt rub. She hated to be groomed and cried like a baby when we recently had someone come to the house to bathe and trim her. She cried so much the neighbor came over to see what was wrong.
I got Angel for my daughter, but I think she was always my dog; mine and my husband’s. Phil walked her. I loved her and fed her , bought her ridiculous toys and rolled around on the floor with her. She licked my face when I cried and would try to fit her entire 50 pound body in my lap. She ripped apart expensive underwear and slept under my furry robe.
Last night I knew, but once again didn’t want to. She cried trying to tell me she was in pain. I didn’t understand at first. It became clear as she paced and was sick through the night. It was bad. She didn’t fight like she usually does when I drive her to the vet. No head out the window, no attempt to run back to the car. She submitted and so I knew in my heart she wasn’t coming home. This was the end.
She was tired. I don’t know how long she was hurting from a large tumor , ignoring her pain so all I could see was a wagging tail and her naturally smiley face. The vet said we could try surgery and chemo but she suggested it would be hard on her and without much hope of giving her time.
I don’t know if it was right or not but I wanted to document some of our last moments and our best moments with Angel.
I can’t stop crying and I’m glad the heavens are pouring. My Angel is gone but I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving that dog.