I still have no clue as to the value of a blog post
and what qualifies one to publish opinions, "facts," and other
information. But today there is a need in my life and perhaps that is the
medium in which I can best present what is needed. This is my ramblings
to myself. I need this.
Minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day.
Hoping that days turn into weeks and the progression continues.
March, 17, 2016. It was likely a lot of things
but, to me and my family it was the day that our family lost our beloved yellow
Labrador girl, Gemi. For so many reasons I feel compelled to get my
thoughts out. The timeline is erratic at best as I sat down to get all of
this out but found that to be impossible.
Born Gemi II of impressive lineage, her life began on
May 21 of 2003 as a candidate in the Canine Companions for Independence (CCI)
assistance dog program. Assigned to my godmother as her puppy raiser, she
went through intensive training to enter into a life of assisting the needy.
Well, she achieved that goal but not directly through CCI. Gemi
could learn and master all of the commands and perform impeccably, but when the
temperatures got high, she would shut down. Failure? The dog did
not know failure. This just meant that she was destined for other things.
In our opinion, she had a greater purpose as it pertained to a newlywed
couple. They were younger then. He had more hair.
Gemi came into our lives through a phone call we were
not expecting. The call is still fresh in my mind. Having gotten
married only a few months prior, we knew our lives would include a dog and
assumed a golden retriever would call us mom and dad. The call came from
my mom saying that my godmother's latest charge had been returned and we were a
potential family. She was an 18-month old, yellow Labrador. The
days flew by as we filled the house with dog beds, random toys, and all off the
other supplies that expectant parents would seek out. We forgot so much stuff.
She arrived. Collins was in the bathroom working
on her hair when the barking Honda Element pulled up. Almost instantly two yellow Labradors, Miss
Gemi and her pal Valor, came running into the house. From the day she
crossed the threshold, our lives would never be the same. It is an
understatement to say that I loved her immediately. We were told the basics of caring for a dog
of superior intelligence. All that we
remember to this day is “don’t feed her just because she is being cute.” We failed at that on a daily basis.
As our newly expanded family became more accustomed to
each other, I find that there were a number of milestones within those first
months. The first was a missed command
that led to years, and likely a lifetime, of poor sleeping conditions for
me. Gemi was to sleep in a dog bed in
our bedroom. However, on night one she
jumped into the bed. Collins immediately
interjected the “down” command.
Unfortunately, "off" was the proper command as Gemi followed
orders a laid down. She loved the
bed.
Another such defining moment came to be known as the
Nylabone Incident. Gemi was happily
playing on the second story catwalk and slinging her hard plastic nylabone
around. In the midst of playing, she
released her toy and it fell from the upper story onto the brand new, flawless
hardwood floors that I cherished.
Dent. Scratch. I looked up after seeing the damage to her
smiling face and tail wagging as if she was saying, “hey, would you bring that
back up to me.” Things that had mattered
such as the condition of the floors were quickly so far down on the list. There is an important life lesson in there, I
am just too immature to find it.
We learned important things those first few
months. Dogs need to go out to use the
bathroom or they will use your floors no matter how well they are trained. Don’t leave newly washed clothes
unattended. Your pristine hardwood
floors are no match for giant paws and for a nylabone dropped from the second
story catwalk. You can’t go out all the
time when you have a dog at home who needs your attention. Your parents will love their grandchildren
whether they are 2-legged or 4-legged. The
nicest lawns in the neighborhood make the best bathrooms. You can pee on the sidewalk when it is
frozen. Grandma is better than mom and
dad because she lets you lick out of the dishwasher.
The first year was a wonderful learning
experience. The couple had become a
family centered around a pink-nosed Labrador who would always be the center of
attention. It was mid-way through this
year that we decided that our family should grow through the addition of
another. Into our lives came an 18-month
old, petite black Labrador from the incredible people at Golden Retriever
Rescue of Atlanta and Jill McGoff, the patient foster mom to whom I will always
secretly hold a special place for. The
new pup came as Trix, her secret internet code name, and we named her
Emma. Where Gemi was friendly and
outgoing, Emma was, and is, timid and scared around others. It took Emma weeks to be any degree of
comfortable around us. The catalyst to
Emma’s progression was Gemi. Simply put,
Gemi raised Emma. Despite almost two
months of time in which we thought Gemi was constantly annoyed by Emma and a
period in which we thought we had ruined Gemi’s life, the two grew to be the
best of friends. Gemi was tolerant and
Emma would push that, but not too far.
Never have a pair been better suited.
Gemi’s patience and calm nature fostered that love.
The great memories, while temporarily obscured by the
current situation, are numerous. She loved
walks at Red Top Mountain when the weather was cool. She squinted in the rain. She could walk faster than you could on a
walk. She tolerated her sister in any
situation. Remember when we pushed the coffee table up
against the couch to keep her off the couch and she ended up getting on the
couch and getting stuck?
Gemi loved to eat and was always hungry. Yes, ths deserves its own place as it was
such a big part of her life. As a treat,
she loved donuts (don’t judge me). A
Dunkin Donus ornament hangs on our doggie Christmas tree each year. Her hungry eyes would follow you even right
after she ate. We thought she would have
issues because of how quickly she would gobble up her food so we got a slow
eating bowl. That really made her
mad. It was returned the next day.
When I was living away from my wife while
transitioning jobs in 2010 I learned of how my connection with Miss Gemi was a
two way street. She would get upset as I
packed to leave on Sunday afternoons. It
got to the point where I had to hide my bags as to not upset he earlier than
absolutely necessary. She would bask in
my return on Friday afternoons. Her
devotion to me and to our family was incredible.
She camped out with me in the bed for a solid day when
I was drugged from eye surgery. She was
always a great companion when anyone was not feeling well. Gemi was my best buddy.
In October of 2015 we took the first shock as Gemi's
mortality became front and center. As her existence had changed our
lives, the news that awaited us as we returned from a trip did the same. Gemi
has stopped eating while we were away and was she was acting lethargic. We immediately took her to her then
veterinarian and were told that it was likely a ruptured mass on her
spleen. The options presented were not
good. All were short term and some were
horribly invasive and promising only minor, if any, returns in terms of quality
of life. We took her home and had a
weekend that was painful, but necessary.
We weighed the options. We
cried. All of the options were bad. There were horrible decisions that had to be
made based on the information that the veterinarian gave. My own weakness was quite obvious. I collapsed in upon myself to a degree, not a
coping mechanism that is very becoming. Through
these tear-filled days I realized that I was not as strong as I once led myself
to believe. I was helpless but found
myself surrounded by a tremendous group of people.
We spent that Friday afternoon and all day that Saturday
trying to keep her comfortable and happy.
We even gave her sister a bath as she loved watching that. There were no substantial signs of
improvement and the looming Monday morning was coming on all too fast. The family stayed right by one another all
weekend.
I spent Saturday morning at the home of our
neighbors. He had a background in
veterinary medicine and they are both devoted dog parents. I needed opinions as to our action as
everything seemed so bad. The comfort
that we gained from sitting in their living room and hearing a professional
speak in such a realistic manner was helpful.
The phrase “you will know when it is time” kept coming up. The recommendation was not to follow the
surgery route but to keep her comfortable.
This made sense to us. I cannot
thank those neighbors enough as I don’t believe that they understand the impact
that their time had on us.
Sunday morning we awoke to find her wanting to go
outside. We took her out in a strangely
cold morning (that I will never, as long as I live, forget) and she walked
right over to her friend’s house (Tucker and Emma) and walked through their
backyard. This was something she had
never done. She was on a mission. This was the clearest sign that things were
getting better. Things were back to
normal less than a week later. We were
glad she was back to herself but we were changed.
The next months were filled with things that made her
happy. Did I feed the dog donuts? Yes I did and I would do it again. Every minute counted. We went to the park and walked down her
favorite boardwalks. We loved on that
girl because we knew, although we didn’t talk about it, that our time was
likely limited.
Due to Miss Gemi’s health, we decided that we could
not travel so that she could be home and comfortable. As such, we spent our first Thanksgiving and
Christmas at home. My family completely
understood our absence from the usual family gatherings and supported our decisions. That amazed me and I will always be thankful
for that. Thanksgiving was a great
celebration with our small family, joined by our inlaws.
Christmas became another holiday of not travelling and
led to a critical blessing in our lives.
On Christmas Eve, something happened that we would not fully understand
the impact of until so much later. A
facebook post by a wonderful woman mentioned having found an injured dog
nearby. Being Christmas Eve, the
shelters were unavailable. Something hit
us about this and the situation we decided that it was time to foster a
dog. We went to see her and determine if
we could help and found her with a large wound on her back, thought to be from
crawling under a fence. She was scared
and dirty. After much trying, we were
finally able to get her into our vehicle so we could bring her home and start
finding her owners. On the way home, we
stopped and got medicated dog wipes and an opossum stuffed toy for her. Southern Charmers Animal Rescue and Ms. Gail Hammond
provided aid and emotional support as we worked to give this scared pup the
best chance of finding her home. She
spent Christmas between our back porch and sticking her head in, unsure as to
whether or not she wanted to come into the house. We called her “Eve” since she came to us on
Christmas Eve. In my great dog naming
skills, I changed her full name to Evelyn T. Walrus as it sounded like a good,
fancy name for the girl. We were all
together. A family of four and a visitor?
No, we were a family of five and just did not know it yet.
The day after Christmas we visited a new veterinarian
who provided care for Southern Charmers.
This seems like a minor thing but this is actually central to so many
other aspects of Gemi’s story and is wonderful yet difficult to write at the
same time.
I diverge into Briar Creek Veterinary Clinic and Dr.
Strickland. My elementary school music
teacher, Neil Thompson, is one of those people who has had a significant impact
on my life. He wrote a musical that put
forth the idea that people come and go from your life and sometimes it is not
immediately clear why. I have had my
share of those. Some of my most
cherished friends fit into that category.
Briar Creek is one of those. Briar
Creek is a local clinic that is so over worked that they don’t take new
clients. Dr. Strickland, along with the
most devoted staff you could dream up, do incredible work. More importantly, they are incredible
people. I wish that everyone could be so
lucky to have help in this area that you trust with absolutely no
hesitation.
When seeing Eve, Dr. Strickland offered to see Gemi
despite his already doubly-full schedule.
We did not trust our previous vet.
Dr. Strickland took time with Gemi to look over everything and complete
the necessary tests. When results were
not good, the manner in which he presented the news was straight forward and
compassionate. Dr. Strickland and his
staff had a ton of things they needed to be doing but devoted their time to
staying with us. They dropped
everything. They did not put on an act
to care – they cared. Their compassion
during our worst days will always be viewed as a blessing to me and to my
family. I search for a way to repay them
for their kindness while we were helpless.
A lot of people go to a lot of extremes to extend life
beyond what it should potentially be. I
don’t judge anyone for that but through our situations, I have developed my own
beliefs. When faced with options of
invasive treatment a good friend simplified the situation for me. Surgery to prolong life a matter of months is
not for the wellbeing of the dog but instead for the family to come to terms
with reality. Surgery might have
prolonged things a matter of weeks with questionable levels of comfort for
Gemi. For a dog that had lived life so
happily that just did not seem right. We
had been given our time since October.
For that we are thankful.
Since this is being written and you know the later
part of the story, you know that Gemi’s improving health did not last
indefinitely. Gemi was tired. Gemi had seen that there was someone who could
take care of her sister.
We spent her last night sleeping as a family of five
on the floor in the living room until she awoke around 3 AM and requested that
I carry her to her bed. We slept a few
hours.
To the sweet lady who answered the phone at Briar
Creek the next morning to find me in tears, I thank you. The next few hours, right or wrong, I try to
forget.
Gemi defined us as people, as a couple, and as a
family. She got us out of the house and
walking around the neighborhood. We
rearranged schedules. We met new
people. She was with us as we grew
up. Got jobs, changed jobs. She moved from house to house with us and got
to meet new neighbor dogs.
Everything reminds me of my friend. Sure, there
is the obvious. There is returning home to an empty bed that she once
occupied and her spot in our bed. It
extends past that. A sudden cool wind, the kind that she loved and would
send her ears to flapping and would put a goofy smile on her face, brings me
back to her and the fact that she is no longer here. The changing weather
and cool mornings in an otherwise hot forecast make me think of her. The house is quiet with no "big dog
barks." These were the barks that her mother encouraged and often
came with no warning and for no purpose but made her happy when they were
acknowledged. I miss my friend.
The day after we lost Gemi I passed a couple walking
their yellow lab on a trail that I frequently run. I made no assumptions that I had my stuff
together, but was still surprised when I completely lost it when seeing this
dog. The kind owners seemed to
understand and I dropped to the ground to pet their friend.
I returned home one day to learn that Gemi was
home. Her ashes had been returned along
with a paw print imprint from our friends at the vet. The ashes sit, to this day, in a ceramic
container along with the cards that friends and family sent – unopened. One day I will read them. Maybe I won’t.
At this point in my life I have been pretty sheltered
from loss of those close to me. This has
been the hardest thing I have gone through and produced some of the worst days
of my life. I felt some reassurance when
even a more seasoned family member told me that the day he lost one of their
special pups was still the worst day of his life even at 60+ years of age.
The last days of her remarkable life occupy
unreasonable real estate in my memory. I pray that these are replaced
with fonder memories as time passes.
While away, my loving wife had hidden notes around my
apartment. It was a nice reminder of
home in the alien environment of an Alabama apartment. The one I remember most read “Be nice to all
the dogs you meet.” It was good advice
then and it is good advice now. I always
think that is what Gemi would tell me.
Some people who are better with words have summarized
these situations and I find that I identify most with those who seemed to
directly or indirectly write for children.
I suppose I will end with those thoughts that have helped me. Gemi, I love you.
“Don’t cry because it’s
over, smile because it happened.” - Dr. Seuss
“There are no happy endings.
Endings are the saddest part,
So just give me a happy middle
And a very happy start.”
Endings are the saddest part,
So just give me a happy middle
And a very happy start.”
-Shel Silverstein
