If you've read all my blogs you'll know that the pilot and I are DINKS. The loves of our lives are our two, special little miniature schnauzers. Well today something terrible happened – we tragically lost our eldest girl to post surgery complications.
I'm trying not to remember those last few awful moments while we watched the vet struggle desperately to resuscitate her – hoping for a miracle while fearing the worst. I'm attempting not to think about her listless, dehydrated body or the way her tongue hung blue from her mouth. I'm trying desperately to forget the lifeless eyes and the fixed pupils, and the way she no longer responded to our voices.
I keep seeing the vet forcing a tube down her throat while they massaged her heart and injected drugs into her – all the time knowing she was no longer there. But the worst of it is the feeling that although we treated her like a princess, in the end we let her down.
I'm trying not to torture myself, but why wasn't I able to discern between post surgery discomfort and these new symptoms? Why didn't I realise there was something more going on? I watched her fade, thinking she was just having a bad day – and all the time she was creeping closer and closer to death.
I'm trying not to think these thoughts and so instead I'm going to remember her the way she was.
Zoe was a beautiful dog in both personality and looks. Shiny and sleek, she loved nothing more that a good romp on the beach. Her favorite activities included chasing things : birds, balls, sticks, smaller dogs, her little sister. She also loved to poo on the lump of seaweed located the furthest distance from where you were standing and to smell as many things as she could.
She loved us both desperately, but had an extra special bond with the pilot; following him everywhere to lie at his feet. He couldn't even visit the toilet without her wanting to sit on the mat beside him. She would have made the perfect work dog – happy just to ride in the Ute with her best friend and master.streaming movie The Huntsman: Winter's War 2016
To know Zoe was to love her. She would stare adoringly into your eyes, and talk to you in a Marge-Simpson-like voice. She would snuggle into your side while you sat on the couch watching television, and she loved to spoon – even in summer when she would put up with the heat just to be as close to you as possible.
Zoe's favorite trick was what the pilot and I called The Old Sore Paw Trick – which she learned as a pup after having been stung on the paw by a bee. She would limp around with one of her paws in the air to get extra attention, using it to such great affect whenever the grandparents where babysitting, that she even got a trip to the vet out of it once. She wasn't always the sharpest pencil in the pack but sometimes she was pretty damn clever.
So what do we do now?
What do you do when your hearts been crushed? How do you get up and keep on moving? How do you allow yourself to love again when something so dear to you has been taken away?
Well at the moment I'm not sure. I still keep playing the terrible death scene over and over in my head, and I'm sure that's not going to stop anytime soon. But I have to hope that one day it will only be the good memories I have. The loving, smiling, goofy dog memories. The melt your heart, make you laugh till you cry memories. The get under the covers and cuddle up memories. And maybe then I'll be able to smile and not cry whenever I think of her. But I guess I'm just going to have to wait and see.