On May 8, 2015, I put my animal companion, Bonnie, to sleep. She had been by my side for over 15 years. In 2014 her health began to fail. The failures were slow at first and by the beginning of 2015 the failures were obvious. She could no longer jump up on the bed. She began to have more accidents in the house. I have been feeding her a special diet since 2006 because of her digestive problems. She was no longer eating well. In February 2015 I took her to the vet and the vet told me that I would know the time when I would have to stop her pain.
I was still seeing the very young dog in my mind that was living with me years ago.I took her for her last walk in the park before going to the vet. On the way home, I thought no more dogs. I spent the afternoon cleaning the house of doggy paraphernalia. I vacuumed and tidied up to make sure there were no signs of a dog. I no longer had to cook a special diet. I didn’t have to run some places to be home to make sure she was OK. I was more or less free of responsibilities for anyone other than myself.
I slept in the morning and stayed out later at night. After a while I realized that sleeping later in the morning was because it was hard to get out of bed in the morning. The summer of my freedom was the most depressing summer I’ve ever had. I was able to visit my son out of state with more ease. I spent more time cooking for myself that I did for the dog. And the freedom wasn’t as great as I thought it would be.
In August, the owner of the kennel, Stacy where I usually boarded Bonnie called to ask if Bonnie was OK since she hadn’t heard from me. I gave her my sad news about Bonnie. She had known Bonnie since Bonnie was a puppy and she was genuinely sad.
In early September, Stacy called me and said she knew of a dog that needed a home. The original owner had to go to assisted living. Her son took the dog but did not like the dog and renamed the dog Oscar. The dogs’real name was MissyLu. I hadn’t planned on another dog but my life without a dog was not very happy. I agreed to go take a look at this dog. So I went to a home in another suburb to take a look at MissyLu. She was a quiet, sweet senior dog. The people who had her said their infant grandchild made her nervous.
After looking at her papers I realized she was 11. I thought I may have gotten something I really hadn’t planned on. MissyLu turned out to be a real surprise. She is not your average 11-year-old dog.
She reminded me of my first dog, Holly.
Missy Lou is all terrier. I took her home and she made her self quite at ease. We both adapted very quickly. She loves my backyard and all the squirrels.
Meet MissyLu, my wonder dog, and a new joy.