Not to My Worst Enemy…

There is nothing in this world that anyone could do to me that would ever set me in motion to cause harm to their pets in retribution.

Even if they were to take Karen from me, I wouldn’t be able to do a thing to their animals; Karen would never allow it anyway.

But we won’t talk about what I would do to them…

Next subject.

When we first moved to Ohio in 1987, we already had Rambo, a very handsome buff English Cocker Spaniel.

He was Karen’s first dog.

We decided to add a female parti-colored Cocker Spaniel, and I drove four hours out in corn country, pulled up to a farmhouse and very hurriedly, plucked this little fluff ball out of a crate. She snuggled up to my neck and stayed there the entire drive home, occasionally letting out a little puff of air or stretching her little growing body as I cooed to her.

She was always the underdog.

If there was a mess to be made inside or outside, no matter; Tiffany was sure to be in the thick of the fray. If given two choices, without fail, she would make the wrong choice every single time. She frustrated the hell out of Karen, and of course, I was her constant defender.

And I loved her so much.

She had the bright, sparkling, laughing eyes of a pampered pet and she didn’t leave my side.

We travelled a lot during this time, and when we made our way back to Tucson, Arizona, my little girl, still only five, started contracting every bad little thing she could, and one day, as we were playing in our huge yard, she was doing zoomies with me, and from nowhere, she dropped mid-gallop.

I mean dropped.

I thought she was dead, and leaned down to hold her. She was scared to death, her eyes wide with fear and confusion, and at that instant in time, I lost a piece of my heart.

But she was frozen still with me assuring her and rubbing her as she slowly regained her mobility.

I knew something was wrong.

Something bad.

Really bad.

I took her to the vet and went through about a two-month regimen of treating my girl’s unknown seizures with no real progress.

I did not sleep for three days before I made the Final Trip to the vet’s office. I had made a silent promise that I would summon the courage at the exact instant I detected pain in Tiffany, and she yelped with pain as she sat alone on her favorite soft bed.

On that last day, I had Karen shower her daughter with kisses as I let my sweet girl sit in my lap one last time with the window rolled all the way down.

I cried the whole trip there, trying to talk comfortingly to my dog.

As we sat together in the small vet’s examining room, I STILL didn’t know if I was doing the right thing.

Tiffany, in pain from every little movement, sighed, and placed her head in my lap. She looked up at me with her brown soulful eyes that assured me she was ready to go and that it was okay.

Stay well.

Published by maddogg09

I am an unmotivated genius with an extreme love for anything that moves the emotional needles of our lives.

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