[I apologize for the long post. I'm a huge sappy emotional person and I actually rarely talk about my first dog with people since she passed. I started to type and just everything gushed out. Whoops.
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It's hard to say when everything started. September 1993. An adorable beagle. She was born on June 25th, runt of the litter. We got her a bit early. It was a huge surprise for us. I remember her bursting her head through the air conditioner paneling and howling when we were away from home. We came back to neighbors in our yard trying to hush her. My parents were so embarrassed. I remember her teething on the furniture: we still have some that have markings, like the rocking chair. Then there were other moments like when my mom accidentally kicked her while carrying the laundry and she went spinning across the floor, or when the neighbors fed her tons of candy and she was sick. I remember it was forbidden to spell or say any part of "want to go for a ride/walk" or gesture towards her leash because of the years she learned every letter, word and gesture that pertained to going out.
I remember when she tore a ligament in her leg once. She went through surgery just fine. I remember my dad sitting down next to her and doing her physical therapy. The dog clearly wanted none of that, and my dad would go "Lucky. Relax. I know you don't like it but the doctor said you had to do it!" It was entertaining to watch. There was also the time she was struck by a car after escaping. My mother wrapped her in a blanket, drenched in blood. I remember it clear as day: she was hustling down the street back home yelling, "Help, help!" She got to the vet who asked him, "what's her name?" "Lucky." "We'll see." She just needed some stitches for a gash in her front leg. She was a lampshade dog for a little while while she healed. Everything was okay, or, you could say Lucky was very lucky.
Years passed. On her birthdays, my mom would buy hamburger and shape it into a dog bone. Candle and all! During Christmas she had presents wrapped in paper she learned to shred open and on Easter she had an Easter basket of her own stuffed with dog treats and toys.She even had her own chair at the dinner table. We went through hamsters and she was intrigued by them. She'd gently play with them and nudge them with her nose. Curious. Sweet. She was family. She was also my roommate. We shared a room. Her bed, her toys, etc. She'd lay under the computer desk at my feet. When I'd be listening to classical music, she'd curl up at my side and fall asleep. If I was sick, she was there beside me keeping watch until I was better. Whenever it thunder-stormed, she'd tremble and hide under my bed while I consoled her. She became well known in our neighborhood. Everybody knew Lucky the Beagle. She was everyone's friend.
Summer 2007. I had just graduated high-school and was preparing for college. Lucky was getting old, just turning 14 or so. My father took her for walks in a well known wooded recreation area by the river regularly. She was so well behaved it had been years since she needed a leash. She always stayed close. This time, she didn't. She disappeared. We searched the area relentlessly before a thunder-storm rolled in. It was hard on all of us. We didn't want this to be how it ended. I reminded myself how I read that dogs sometimes wander away from their pack to pass on. I wondered if this was her time. Monday. The phone rang. It was our veterinarian with an address. She had been found! She wandered miles down the river and made it to somebody's backyard who fed her, gave her water and called the number on her tags. My mom and I rushed to the house to pick her up. We were so happy! I remember spending the next three days sitting by her side picking fleas, mites and ticks off of her. I reprimanded my father who turned down the idea of a flea bath. After showing him the cup of blood-sucking fiends that were attempting to migrate to my bed overnight, he took her to get cleaned up at Petco. She came home all clean with a bow. Everything was great.
I had a performance at a convention come ways away out of town that August. My ex and I had just split up (who was also in the show) and tension ran high. The performance went amazing though and everybody was happy celebrating. I was even asked to stay another day to do a short stint in another performance. I was ecstatic! I agreed and crashed in my friend's hotel room for the night. Saturday morning. I woke up early to my phone. "Mom." I picked it up, groggily saying hello. "Lucky had a seizure yesterday. We heard a thud and she had collapsed on the floor with her legs extended stuff and was seizing. Her heart stopped and she wasn't breathing, but your dad was able to revive her with CPR. She's okay now but she seems out of it. She might not make it. We think it's time to put her down." I replied in a stupid dramatic panic, "Can it wait until Sunday!? Or Monday!?" She said, "I don't know. We'll try.' I remember sitting on some steps silently. My ex knew I ran out of food for the weekend and brought me some bagels. It was the first time in months she showed me any sort of kindness! I thanked her and went about my day worrying. My brother called me a few hours later. "Lucky had another seizure. She's going in and out on consciousness. I'm sorry. We can't wait." After it was done, they called. "The vet said that she was lucky to have been alive for the past few months. She had so many toxins in her bloodstream and her kidneys had failed." She didn't have a single symptom until she just let go that day. Later on my parents would joke about how she "raised our family" and "saw you guys were going off to live your own lives now so she decided it was safe to let go."
The car ride home was pretty silent on Sunday. My father came to pick me up. We talked a bit. It was one of those moments where you can really feel the grief in the atmosphere. When I arrived home, I broke. Upon entering my room, they had taken everything of the dog's away except for my baby blanket which was folded on my bed which I had given to my dog to snuggle in her bed. "We took everything out of your room because we were afraid it'd make you feel worse to see it." It would have, but seeing it empty was just as painful. I didn't get to say goodbye. "She was wrapped in the baby blanket when we brought her there. They kept it wrapped around her when she was put to sleep so in a sense, you were there the whole time."
This was the last picture taken of her. My brother sent it to me just before they drove to the vet:
In memory of Lucky.
Est. 1993 to 2007
