God Bless JohnD

Likely my brother Rick, will be the only one who remembers saying our GodBlesses ever night before bed. They started out "God Bless JohnD, granma&granpa, mom&dad, Pam, Pat, Rick, Mary, and baby Virginia..." There were more after that but that was the last time I remember saying them with feeling.

John D McCarthy was my godfather, who died a young man during the Korean War. He gave me Boppy, the little sleepy dog I carry around with me to this day. Amie looked a lot like Boppy, come to think. Boppy never came to the door to greet me, but acted in my defense against my two younger brothers...hence the name Boppy cause I used him as a weapon.

Amie did not come to the door with her usual wildly enthusiastic greeting on Fri. I had to go look for her. She was not in my bed where I left her at 5:30 AM that morning. She was downstairs in a comfortable chair, on a blanket, but she didn't look up at me when I found her. She had that drunken stupor stare; I had seen that look right before she had her first medical crisis, almost three years ago to the day.

So off we went to Cherry Chase Pet Hospital; Dr Standley asked politely if she could run a liver panel and I said OK, but nothing more. C met us there and we waited for the results. The nurse even brought out a nice big fluffy towel so Amie did not have to lie on the cold metal table; a gesture that both Amie and I appreciated.

The values were off but not completely off the chart. So we took her home. On the way home she and I decided it was time to let her go. Earlier she clenched her teeth when I tried to force water. So I listened to that. I remembered transporting Ouzo the cat, at age 18 and asking him if he wanted to fight any more. He mewed back at me with a spark in his eyes, so we kept on fighting. Amie was a limp little rag in my lap; she seemed too tired to fight any more.

She slipped into a comma while we were all taking a short nap. During the night she came out of it, but she was blind and probably deaf by then. She had become zombie puppet Amie...swimming around back in the womb. We made her comfortable, and waited, and watched, and talked, and cried.

What if she goes on like this until next week? What if she is in pain? Maybe I can sneak her into the office if I put her in my purse... Or what if she seems to be suffering and it is Sunday and there are no Vets to help us? Why won't they give me a euthanasia shot to take home? Amie only weighs 4-5 lbs...No C said, what if you lost it or used it on a baby? right, of course...what if...

Amie went through her process very quickly. C kept taking her pulse and breathing rate as she had been trained to do at Banfield. Amie was slowing down, hour by hour, like a coiled spring...gently relaxing. And like a wind up toys sometimes do, she would suddenly roll her head and make swimming motions with her paws in the air, then settle back down. If she stopped in an awkward position, we returned her to a more comfortable position, back in her little bed.

She was cold, so she kept her sweater on, but I took her collar off when we got back from the vet's. Now I wear it as a bracelet. I moved her into the sun for a while so she might feel the warmth, and opened the window so she might hear the familiar sounds of the neighborhood, and the mocking birds singing. Or not...

I held her on my lap as she passed. I thought I could feel little vibrations, faint rushes of energy leaving her body, for some time after she had stopped breathing. Then C helped me wrap her in a piece of silk I had cut for this purpose, and we put Amie in a plastic bin. Then C took her to work and signed her up for cremation service.

Amie has waited patiently in her pretty peach sweater, wrapped in an aqua silk brocade shroud then zipped into a body bag, in the dead animal fridge, for pick-up today. Soon she will be home with us again, in a tiny marble urn.

God bless Amie. Small dog, very big heart. She had a lot to say in life; our house is very quiet now.