Friday October 16, 2015
My daughter Franklyn is now 3 ½ months old and this is the
first post I have written since I was pregnant. And although I have an archive
of blog ideas centred around Frankie, this one is not for her. This one is for
Taylor.
Taylor is not doing well. After a weekend of several
‘faint-like’ spells and a weird cough-choke that has started, we took her right
to the vet. At 15 ½, I braced myself for
very bad news. Turns out, Taylor has heart failure. She has water in the lungs
and her heart is enlarged. The combination of the two causes her to collapse
every time she exerts herself. It started a few months ago, a week after
Frankie was born actually. It happened after a long day of walking or extreme
heat. But now it’s happening all the time. Today was a particularly bad day.
She collapsed just from walking down the hall. Or getting excited about
dinnertime (yes, amongst all of this, she is still food crazy- a sure-good
sign:). Without exaggeration, she collapsed/fainted approximately 8 times
today! And to add to her discomfort and my sorrow, she now loses control of her
bladder and bowels when she collapses. And each time it happens, my heart
breaks a little.
As optimistic as the vet is, I know the truth. My dog is
dying.
Most of you know Taylor, and therefore know she is not your
ordinary dog. She truly is something special. I knew it immediately when she
showed up on my front lawn back in Tennessee. No collar, no ID and no desire to
be anywhere else. She literally found me. My mom had just put her dog down due
to illness, so this spunky Jack Russell mix was going to become her new best
friend.
And she was. Within minutes of meeting mom, she had her
wrapped around her little paw! But the feeling was mutual. Taylor adored my
mom. She was right by my mom’s side during her long hard fight with cancer. A
Jack Russell at 15, let alone in their prime, is hard to keep calm. But every
chemo day, Taylor stayed within cuddle-reach of my mom and joined her for her
afternoon naps. She toned it down when mom wasn’t well, and hyped it up when
she needed a laugh. Taylor was Mom’s medicine. And while my grandmother sat by
and watched her daughter go through these hard times, Taylor made sure to save
some cuddle time for her too.
Oh don’t get me wrong; Taylor was still a feisty Jack back
in the day. She would chase every living creature that was in sight, big or
small. Many, unfortunately, falling victim to her embedded instincts. Mice,
rats, squirrels, sparrows, a pigeon (a fancy Spanish pet pigeon, might I add)
and I’m sorry to say, even a kitten. However not one, but three skunks did
defeat her and her crazy ways (that was fun)!
I have had dogs literally ALL my life. But by far, Taylor is
the smartest dog I have ever owned. Even at 3 or 4 years old she learned how to
roll over, how to give paw, and even how to count (don’t argue with me, she
totally could)! Back in the day, Taylor used to get car sick. But mom taught
her how to barf in a bag so she wouldn’t make a mess in the car! She was never
good at fetch but we could tell her to go get a certain toy and she would
retrieve it every time. The last couple of years, her tricks have changed
somewhat. Taylor would beg us to go outside even when she didn’t have to go,
because she knew treat time was after a walk. She would want us to take her to
the dog park, not to play with other dogs but to scout out the dog owners
because they always had treats! Taylor is absolutely food crazy and her
relentless begging and whining can get quite annoying. And because she is almost deaf, her
consistent barking, especially when Frankie is crying, can totally get the best
of me.
But not today.
With Frankie in one arm already, I carried Taylor up and
down three flights of stairs three times today. I cleaned up three puddles of
pee - one of them happened on the couch. I checked on her periodically
throughout the day just to make sure she was still breathing. And I just lay
with her during each episode, trying to keep her calm and comfortable. All this
is the least I could do.
After all, Taylor has been through it all with me. She has
been my constant through the toughest years of my life. She was there when I
lost my Dad, both my grandmothers, Frankie, my Mom, Steve’s mom and my three
miscarriages. For the last decade and a half, whenever I needed a cuddle (and
I’ve needed many) Taylor was right by my side.
Taylor was steady by my side when everything else around was falling
apart. And for that I am eternally grateful.
Wednesday October 21, 2015
We pushed it as long as we could. The vet was hopeful that once
on the heart medication things would turn around. We waited as long as we
could. But after watching seizure after seizure and seeing her struggle for
each breath so much that her tongue turned blue, we knew we couldn’t put her
through this for much longer.
As I sat on the bathroom floor with Taylor at 5 am,
comforting her after yet another seizure, I asked her to tell me what I should
do. Through her cataract-filled eyes, while her body trembled in pain, she
looked at me and her answer was very clear. Steve and I decided right after
breakfast we would take her to the vet.
As we were both stalling, Taylor collapsed once again, but
this time she stopped breathing. Steve & I held her and watched as we
thought for sure this was the end. I even told her to go, to stop fighting and
to let go. But being the most stubborn dog I have ever met in my entire life,
she started breathing again after what felt like a very long time! Any doubt
left in us about what we were about to do immediately vanished. Steve scooped her
up and we carried her straight to the vet.
Taylor passed away peacefully. Dr. Mark Kinghorn and the
staff at Roncy Vet Clinic were fantastic. They made sure it was quick and
painless. While waiting for the vet, we took Taylor across the street to one of
her favourite neighbourhood spots. Favourite because people bring their stale
bread ends here to feed the birds. And on our walks, when Steve & I would
turn our back, Taylor would scare away all the birds and have a feast! Well
today, as Taylor sat quietly, feeling the grass beneath her feet and taking in
what would be her last few breaths of fresh air, an older Polish lady walked up
just a few feet from her and dumped a huge pile of bread. Steve & I looked
at each other and smiled, then gave Taylor the nod.
With a mouth full of bread and pigeons pecking all around,
Taylor got the farewell she deserved.
