My dog died on Friday

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Bodanarko: May 29, 2009

My 2 year old (birthday on the 15th) Brittany Spaniel died on Friday night at 9:15 while I was an hour away.

I decided to get a dog because I was recently out of the army and divorced and totally lost as far as what I wanted to do with my life. I was raised around Britts as my family bred them my whole life, and my brother's dog was having a litter in June 2014. I lived with my brother when he got her as a pup, and so it was an easy off the cuff decision to make.

I went and saw the litter the day they were born and in the days and weeks after, and while watching the pups one night at 2-3 weeks I decided that I wanted the loudest one, that picked fights with all the rest of them. She also looked a lot like her mom, which was a big factor. I technically had 3rd pick of the litter but my brother knew I wanted that pup and it sounds like he didn't make a hard sell on her to the others before me.

Once the others had made their picks, I was able to officially pick her and collar her, with a little red collar from Walmart. I named her Earle (pronounced like girl), after the singer/songwriter Justin Townes Earle.

This is where I have to mention the next part of our story together. I had begun online dating that summer, and in the same week she was born, I started talking to my current girlfriend. She was in the process of picking up a new puppy too, an English Shepherd named Cowgirl that had been born in May.

We spent a weekend together, and I took her to see the puppies, and agreed with my pick. She was only in the state for the summer, and after she left for home(1500 miles away), I decided to follow my heart and drive out to meet her parents and try to win her over.

So I did it. Loaded up my 9 week old pup and drove the 22 hour drive in 2 days. She was an angel and would just pass out in the car, I stopped every 3 hours for her bathroom breaks but she never fussed or had an accident.

When we got to where my (eventual) girlfriend lived, she finally got to meet cowgirl and they were instant friends, running all over the farm and playing together. After a week, Earle, my (almost) girlfriend and I headed back for my state/home, unfortunately having to leave Cowgirl back with the "grandparents" since her mom would be riding a greyhound back home before school started. Earle had no issues, other than wetting the back of the car 20 miles from home since I tried to stretch the limits of her puppy bladder.

All this time, I took tons of pictures of my new puppy. She was just so photogenic and would just plop down wherever and let me take pictures of her, though she had a bad habit of looking away anytime we tried a posed picture.

The first school year together was a blur, but needless to say there were many incidences of her chewing up things she shouldn't. Multiple times of her emptying the recycling/garbage cans, chewing up new running shoes, gloves, the moulding around a bathroom door, floor lamps, and so many other things, which seemed so infuriating at the time and so harmless now.

The worst was right during finals week that fall, right before my comp sci final. I came home to find a sea of Pepsi and a ripped up $150 textbook. She had torn into the text book and a 24 pack of Pepsi that my roommate had left in the kitchen. I got incredibly mad, used her as a mop for the Pepsi and then put her in her crate on the porch.

I felt bad whenever I would punish her, but I never hurt her. She was very well behaved and disciplined, other than the separation anxiety that caused her to tear up the house.

Her training and obedience were all assisted by my roommate's 4 year old German Shepherd/Lab mix, "M", who was super well behaved and obedient. She taught Earle a lot of great mannerisms and made it a breeze to teach her the basics. They play-fought all the time, jaws bared, and Earle taught Cowgirl how to play that way as well. They were usually left alone while we were in class, but Earle would get on M's nerves eventually. At that point M would open the door to my roommates room and jump on the bed because Earle couldn't get up there. Earle would then gorge herself on M's food since she was free-fed. I would come home to a fat puppy, sunbathing and farting. She also had trouble with drinking too much water, so I had to condition her out of it by shooing/scaring her away from the water dish after drinking a reasonable amount.

When I got her there was a "no dogs on the furniture" rule, but that was abandoned fairly quickly, and before the end of the year she was sleeping on the couch at the end of my bed and sometimes on the bed itself.

When summer rolled around again, I packed up the dog and drove off again, this time not stopping for anything other than gas, no issues at all. When we would stop at the gas stations I would take her out to run in the grass nearby, and for her potty break.

That summer was incredible, for all the dogs and humans involved. The dogs would spend all day outside roaming on the farm together, wearing out secret paths in the woods and chasing who knows what, making a mess of themselves in the process. When her first birthday came around in June, we made her a dog-friendly birthday cake with peanut butter frosting, Cowgirl ate most of it. Together we marched in a parade, went on nightly walks with the pups sprinting out in the cornfields chasing birds, hiked and went horse camping all over the state. At the end of the summer webrought both dogs back to my home, as we couldn't bear to separate them, and figured they would stay safe together in my care. We took the dogs to a lake and waterfalls in the mountains on our way back home, even though Earle always hated the water.

We had a good school year together as my girlfriend and I survived our second year of long-distance, going on trips out to my family's farm and lots of hiking whenever my girlfriend would visit. I was really busy with my first year in my competitive school program, but the two girls got along so well and kept each other out of trouble if I would leave them in the house or yard while I was gone for the whole day. We would lay together in bed every night while I studied, and then we would all sleep together, with Earle under the covers even though I was always worried she would suffocate. The girls were a hit with my friends in my school program, and I brought them to club meetings and to the university's "Dog Day" at the baseball field. The pups got popcorn and hotdogs and were great despite the crowd.
EXCEPT when I saw Earle growl and bark in anger at someone for the first time. It was the mascot, with his big headed costume. Cowgirl warmed up to him but Earle was incredibly suspicious of him the entire time. Earle also tolerated me strapping her into a GoPro harness. She hated it but she tolerated it for me, like many other things I put her through.

Once again, summer rolled around (this summer) and we drove out again. I was worried that with just me and the two pups I would be overwhelmed, but they were angels in the car, even though I forgot dog food and had to buy nasty canned alpo at a gas station to feed them in the hotel the first night.

They loved being back on the farm and would just dash off into the woods, chasing who knows what all over but storming back onto the farm as soon as they were called. Covered in ticks and burrs and mud and whatever else, but happy and exhausted. We went on regular nightly walks, though one time Earle scared us, running off towards a trigger happy neighbor's property while we were walking around sunset. She popped out of the woods after 5 minutes of us calling and starting to worry, but she was fine and it just proved to me that she was a wild unstoppable force of blissful stupidity.

She then entered heat for the 3rd time. The times before it had just shown as her bleeding around the house and being a bit moody. But we were on the farm this time. She flirted with the (fixed) obese lab that lived there as well as our friend's (fixed) shepherd/pit/whatever else mix. Well, she did a lot more than flirt. I hadn't had her fixed, mostly out of laziness but also based on the fringe belief that I might have her bred someday. We started to talk about that this summer, as so many people loved her temperament and size. She was a little short for a Brittany, but we always felt that she was the perfect size, especially since she loved to just hop up in anyone's lap for scratches and pets.

Once my girlfriend was done with school, we went down to her relative's ranch to work for a couple weeks. We decided to leave the pups with their grandparents on the farm since there were lots of farm dogs on the ranch and we figured they would be safer at home and able to run around instead of being cooped up in our room while we were working.

After a week and a half, my girlfriend's parents made a surprise visit, letting us know as they were leaving. It was Earle's birthday and my girlfriend and I had talked about having them bring her down for the last few days of our time there. I decided against it, as I didn't want to separate the girls and felt that worrying about her being safe around dogs, cattle and horses was just too much.

That Friday (last Friday) one of our friends drove down for the big weekend roundup and we gave her a tour and had dinner with the cowboys before the big roundup.

At around 5pm we got a call from her dad, saying that Earle was acting funny, and that he had found blood in the kennel but couldn't find any injuries on her or any other dog. I wasn't too worried about it but they said they would get her to their large animal vet that night.

At about 8:10, they called from the animal hospital. They put the vet on the line and as soon as he started with "I'm so sorry, " I felt it in my heart.

He said that it was almost definitely rat poison, that she had consumed days before. The internal bleeding was hindering her ability to breathe. He said that she was mostly likely beyond all help. He needed to know if I wanted him to authorize blood transfusions and further imaging. I told him to do whatever he could to help her, and that we would drive up immediately.

We were 2 hours away and drove like bats out of hell to get there. As I drove, I cried. Thinking about her as a puppy and how sweet she was to everyone and every dog, and knowing in my heart that she would be gone from my life. But even then I felt that I would get to see her and hold her while she faded away, or that just maybe, she would tough it out and continue to blow my mind.

At 9:10 my girlfriend's brother called, and said that she didn't need a blood transfusion and that the doctor would just give her fluids for the night. It sounded like good news to him and us.

At 9:15, I got a call from the vet, and once again heard "I'm so sorry..."

My girlfriend and I bawled all the way until we stopped for gas and our friend drove the rest of the way with us sobbing in the backseat.

We got to hold her that night in the animal hospital. I'll never forget how stiff she seemed, the coldness of her paws and how it felt to scratch her chest and kiss her behind the ear one final time.

We deduced that my girlfriend's dad had put the rat poison on some machinery in the horse barn. The family had lost dogs in the past to it, but he had learned his lesson and was much more cautious about leaving it around.

He slipped up though. He didn't worry too much because the dogs weren't in the barn much, and his dogs had gotten into it before but had spat it out on the lawn with no incident. But the weather had been warm so he was leaving the barn open so the dogs could go in and get water and some shade.

Needless to say, all those little decisions added up. By the time she was at the vet, it was over. Her lungs were filling with blood and there wasn't enough blood in her vessels to get an IV started. It sounds like she ate 3 bars of Decon 4-5 days earlier. She had been acting a little tired and slow but the family attributed it to missing me and my girlfriend while we were at the ranch.

It's hard not to get mad and throw blame around but I moved through that phase pretty quickly and have just been sad. Sad for her missing out on a longer life. Sad for me losing my first dog in such a lovely way. Sad for my girlfriend's dad, as he loved her too and felt awful.

The first few days were terrible and it has been slowly getting better but it just hurts so drat much. I have a very active imagination so every waking moment is spent remembering some little thing she did or running off in my head daydreaming about turning back time and seeing her on her birthday and changing everything. Or the very persistent fantasy that she is just comatose and I will get a call from the vet saying that she popped out of the morgue and is a walking miracle.

I know there will be a day soon where I don't cry, but it's hard. Hard and unfair and stupid. It doesn't make any sense. She was a baby. It never took anything away from anyone else for her to be a part of my life. She never hurt anyone. She wasn't perfect but she was innocent and harmless.

I am tired of hearing how "God has a plan" and "there's a reason for everything."

My dog wasn't a cog in some machination of an uncaring deity.

She was an innocent dog, who I loved unconditionally, and she was taken way too young because of a series of coincidences and mistakes that added up to make a terrible tragedy. She was so young and full of life and it's just so hard for me to believe that she's gone now. I have hundreds of pictures of her, along with a couple videos, but it will never be enough.

I took a break while writing this to go walk with my girlfriend and Cowgirl. I was really truly hoping to see a missed call and voicemail from the vet, trying to share the wonderful news of my dog waking from her coma.

Instead, I know that the next call from them will be for me to pick up her ashes.