A Sudden and Heartbreaking Goodbye

Almost eleven and a half years ago, my husband and I were driving home together. I had a tiny Cavalier puppy on my lap. Suddenly I turned to him and said, "Omg, what do we do with her now???"

I had wanted my own Cavalier for years, and now we finally had our very own. It took a few days to come up with the perfect name. Since both husband and I work professionally with animals, we know a lot of animals. We didn't want a name we already knew. A name another dog or cat had already given shape to. And somehow we came up with Haiku. And it was perfect. And she was perfect. 

Bright, shining eyes

Happy, wagging tail

Puddle on the floor

And Haiku continued to be perfect. Oh, sure she was a little slow to potty train. But she was tiny, and easy to clean up after. But that was it. She was sweet, and cuddly, and endless playful. And she was adorable! 

And our lives continued, with Haiku at the center. When I opened my own salon, Haiku came to work with me. She came to events, even a movie night my business sponsored. She went on trips with us, if we could bring her. And our favorite, we'd go walking together. The best were the horse trails. Quiet and safe, Haiku could run off leash. Always plenty of time to call her back to me if we came across anyone else. Our favorite was a path that led up a wooded hill. At the top, it opened up to rolling hay meadows, and a manicured yard where the model airplane club launched their planes. We'd walk the rolling meadows, or play games with friends at the launch area. 

Practicing recalls. Haiku always checking in with me.

Big, Brown eyes

happy, wagging tail

licks my face

Haiku was always up for an adventure. She loved to play fetch, to play tug, or to go hiking with me and my dad. He was always surprised. "That dog can walk!" he'd exclaim. And she could! She hiked with us in the hills and valleys of Maryland. Reservoirs and mountains. Well, Maryland's mountains. If she couldn't clamber up some rocks, or across a stream, I'd just scoop her up and carry her across. We'd be exhausted at the end, but Haiku would wake up the next day ready for more adventures! Or hanging out and cuddling on the sofa. Whatever. Anything was good if you're a Haiku.

Because of her feet floofs, Haiku was always especially adorable when sleeping. But she always had a hard time with dog beds. She had long mastered the sofa, and our bed. But smaller pet beds often confused her. 

Loyal, clouded eyes

muzzle mostly grey

Runs only in her dreams

As Haiku got older, she developed a degenerative heart valve disease that affects most Cavaliers. In fact, at one point it was audible. It took us weeks to realize it was her. We just assumed it was our neighbors listening to annoying dance music too loud! When we finally realized it was her, she earned a new nickname "Dance Party Puppy". You really could hear it, and it sounded just like dance music. A regime of medications helped her heart function better, and quieted the dance party...which was a touch disappointing! 

Haiku slowed down, obviously. We took shorter, more sedate walks. She no longer could run endlessly up and down the stairs, chasing after toys and bringing them back. But that was okay. We still had little adventures. We still cuddled and napped together. And Haiku still followed us everywhere, all the time.

The wounded face of a Haiku that didn't get 

invited on a bathroom break

Haiku really liked hanging out while I did yoga

I always thought it would be the heart disease that got her. That it would worsen until we had to decide. That we had plenty of time. Sure, she was older. But she was okay. Her cardiologists were pleased with how she was doing. Her bloodwork looked good. We would probably have a few more years before her perfect, golden heart gave out. 

But I was wrong. So wrong. The bout of pancreatitis that started just three weeks ago wasn't caused by a change in Omega 3 supplements, but by a huge tumor growing on her liver. And two weeks ago, when her bloodwork showed an improvement in her liver values, it also showed one tiny concern in her kidney function. And just one week later, we were at the emergency vet with her. She was in kidney failure. Her liver was failing. And, of course, she was in (managed) heart failure. A few hours before, our regular vet had done a very quick ultrasound, and saw a mass. Because of her failing kidneys, Haiku needed IV fluids. Because of her failing heart, that would be very dangerous. Haiku spent the night at the emergency center with careful care and monitoring. We knew it was bad. We knew we had very little time left. 

Haiku made it through the night, but the ultrasound showed a large tumor on her liver. The only chance was immediate surgery. And we had already made the terrible choice not to. Logically, it was the correct decision. But emotionally, it was devastating. It would be wrong and selfish to attempt to prolong her life, and Haiku would suffer every step of the way. But how unbelievable for her life to be over? So suddenly. So unexpectedly. The right thing, yes. But never the easy thing. 

But I pretended. For Haiku. For Haiku, I could pretend. I would be cheerful. We took her home. Just for the afternoon. And with our last few hours together, we hung out. Haiku was too sick to even taste her favorite foods. Fresh, hot, salty French fries. Sour Cream and Onion chips. Pirate Booty. She did try for the Pirate Booty, but couldn't eat it. Just rested her chin on a puff. 

And all the while I told Haiku that soon she would feel better. We'd go over, and her doctor would make her feel better. And we'd go have one more adventure. Then she would go find her buddy Steed, and they would run together again in the rolling hay fields. And Crack, her BFF calico cat, would be there too. She wouldn't feel yucky, and she wouldn't be tired. All her friends would be there and she'd have so much fun. 

And that's what I told her until the end. And I told her how much I loved her. That she was the best puppy. That I loved every minute with her. I told her how much fun we had together. How perfect she was. How wonderful our life together had been. 

And then she was gone. 

Just a few days ago, my husband and I were driving home together. My hands clenched together on my lap. Silently, we wondered, "omg. How are we going to live without her???"

Goodbye, Haiku. Thank you for a wonderful life together. 

You're the best puppy and I loved every minute with you.