Dale, RIP

Dale, our Dalmatian born 18 April 2008 is gone. In the past 9 years he underwent two surgeries for kidney stones. Yes, Dalmatians have a propensity for developing kidney stones and Dale was more the rule than the exception.

The night before Maid C left, she said he was becoming weak. Maid C was Dale's main caregiver: feeding him, etc. I thought it was just because she was leaving and he felt it. When I brought up the possibility, she concurred. He'd not eat, she said. I asked how his urination was, because in the times he was subjected to surgery, that would be the telling sign: very little urine, blood in the urine, etc. She said it was okay. Maid C left last Tuesday.

Tuesday morning, Maid A told me that Maid C had lied. Dale had been throwing up and had hardly been eating for several days. Yesterday, I had the vet come over. Dale's bladder was near bursting point. She asked if I wanted euthanasia. I agreed. I was sick in the room so we'd communicate via her cell phone and my land line. When I saw the papers I had to sign for the request for euthanasia, it occurred to me to ask my husband to come home. I texted my son about it even if I knew he had a long test in a few hours. Dale was his pet after all, though he had somehow outgrown Dale. He asked if the procedure had to be done right away. I knew that meant he wanted to see Dale alive for the last time, at least. So I didn't sign the papers and texted the doctor about it, she understood.

I heard mass and called out to Dale on my way out. He just looked at me. When I came home from mass (feast of St. Joseph, patron of a happy death), I called out to him but by then the car was obscuring his cage from my sight. Husband said he tried to stand up at my voice and fell to his side. But he was still alive.

Son arrived and said hello at 9 pm. Husband left for the press and came home. Dale was still breathing.

This a.m., when I saw my husband sporting the downturned lips, I knew Dale was gone. yesterday, I cried a river aware of his imminent passing. When I learned he was finally gone, I smiled, aware he's now in dog heaven, experiencing no more pain. He had been moaning yesterday.

I have a lot of memories to carry me through, but do not have the guts to type them now without shedding tears. See, they are beginning to flow now at the mere thought.

Dale now lies buried in the garden. Soon, I'll ask that special plants be put atop him. I'm sure he'll make them bloom and grow.

thank you dale for the nine years when you made us smile and laugh, when you protected us from harm. Darn the tears are flowing. Luckily, I'm alone in the room. Sigh...

I guess while the tears are flowing I can afford to recall those memories. We picked dale up at the vet in Project 7 where we got him. he sat in a cage beside me at the back of the car. He'd sit on my lap days later and go under my wheelchair. For a time his cage was in the room, yes, it was because I wanted to see him all the time. But later, we decided he had to stay in the garage.

He was a wild dog, Dale was. he was forever in his cage. there was one night we allowed him to roam free and the next day, everything was in disarray. He was wild and irrepressible but virtually harmless. We had him trained to shake hands, sit, stand and so I'd sometimes command him thus. I always about bread sticks for him but lately they haven't been available. In the past, when my supply was constant, each time he'd see me in the garage, he'd bark, aware that it would mean some treats for him because then I'd ask the maid to get him two or three sticks. Then he'd quite down and eat them. Sigh, dale, I thought you'd live forever. But still, thank you for giving us almost nine years of you. You outlived so many of the cats in the house, cats who were supposed to have nine lives. dale, thank you.