Love Not Loss

Looking back, I probably should have known how sick she was, my little Chewy who was often mistaken for a puppy.

Lately she had woken me often at night for water, I thought. Now I know it was because her loyal heart was enlarged, beating too fast; she needed oxygen and she needed water.

We were on Sanibel in Florida; we came home early because she suffered several seizures and then panic attacks because she could not breathe. We needed to be home.

Traffic was slow (it was Atlanta, after all) and so Dan held her to the open window as he had so many times, her hair and long ears blowing in the wind, that happy silly smile lighting her face as she gulped great swallows of air.

“Stay calm….we are here,” he said, as we waited in the traffic.

He wept as he said this as did I because we knew what was next.

Her smile as she died was of both suffering and joy as she reached up to kiss his face one more time.

She panicked just as traffic stopped, and her congestion became a death rattle.

I put my hand over her warm little heart as her life ebbed, her heart burst and the rapid fire panting slowed as her life force drained from her tiny body.

And then it was over.

I cradled her, running my fingers over and over through the silky hair, kissing her a few last times and rocking her, humming the silly songs I had hummed since she came into my life 15 years ago. Still warm, her tongue quickly began to turn blue.

We wandered somewhere in Georgia, needing to get her body home.

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True or not, sometimes I felt she was the only living creature who loved me.

Grandchildren across the country, I miss the warmth, kisses and hugs that I cannot give or receive so far away.

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A cost is assessed when we love—a price for that utter joy of just being together with living beings in whose presence we take comfort-a joy that is lost in painful separation from what had been “home,” fumbling in unfamiliar territory.

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Her life has imprinted me, like a brilliant painting of a distant bird’s silhouette against the luminous morning sky.

Meanwhile, we move forward, (not quite) forgetting what lies behind and looking to what is ahead, running in such a way as to win the prize because, of course, all dogs.

And I thank God for the sweetest, most excruciatingly beautiful experience of separating from a little friend who loved me without condition.

There are few exquisite moments in this life and when we experience them, they shape the heart and the spirit.

To champion and to be championed adds purpose and love, enriching our short years on this spinning planet.

To my mind, it is victory to have loved so deeply and have had that love returned.

This story is not about loss; it is about love.

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Meet Zoe.