Her full name was Tiffany O’Malley McDuff Diaz and her name was bigger than she was.
I found her at an old farm in northeast Ohio just a few miles away from the Indiana border. It was a chilly night and I pulled up the dirt road leading to an old farmhouse with the requisite barn missing boards and roofing.
Hindsight never serves us until it’s too late, but I should have been suspicious.
I wasn’t allowed in the house or the barn where, evidently, the dogs were. They had advertised for a female parti-Cocker Spaniel pup, and I was desperate to find a little mate for our beautiful male Cocker Spaniel Rambo O’Leary McDuff Diaz.
I handed the five folded bills to a very large woman who then gently transferred the little ball of life to my eager hands. I watched as she waddled her way back to the farmhouse door.
I looked into the face of my new little girl.
She gave me the look.
I knew immediately.
Thank you. You did the right thing. You saved me.
She snuggled up and found herself a perfect little curve of my neck where she gave out one tiny puff of air from her little pink nose before falling fast asleep.
I was smitten.
Yes, she had AKC papers verifying her pedigree, but she was the ultimate underdog.
She didn’t get along with any other dog and despite her volatile nature, produced seven of the most beautiful buff and parti-colored puppies with Rambo.
With her anti-everything nature, Karen and I both feared that she would not raise her pups, but she turned out to be the best little mother to her babies as Rambo pretty much ignored them.
I describe Tiffany like this. Given ANY two choices to make, Tiff would always, without fail, choose the worst possible option. The one that would get her in the most trouble, or the dirtiest.
Without fail.
But I adored her.
There was no doubt whatsoever that she was a Daddy’s girl. I spoiled her to the point of trifling with her girlish figure by giving her a continuous supply of snacks and treats.
Yes, she got a little heavier, but she was just as mischievous as ever, and she kept me laughing for hours on end.
We were living outside of Tucson, Arizona where the dogs had a full acre to call their front and back yard.
It was a lazy day under the hot desert sun and we were playing fetch. I tossed the ball for Tiffany and she would dutifully retrieve it and drop it at my feet after taking time for a quick splash in her puppy pool.
Then it happened.
I threw the ball one more time and Tiff started to sprint to it, but fell over on her side like a ton of bricks.
There was nothing causing the fall, no rocks or ditches, just flat desert sand.
Something was terribly wrong.
As I approached my scared little friend, her eyes were wide with fear and confusion.
I’m sure mine were, too.
I rubbed her neck gently, soothing her and reassuring her that I was there and would take care of her.
I was crying like a baby inside.
I knew.
I spent the next three months trying to understand what the vet had told me. Evidently, my little girl suffered from a condition that forced her internal organs to grow too much too fast, and this was slowly choking the life out of her.
I will do anything for our animals (hell I’d do anything for YOUR animals) and I told Karen that I would take my girl for her Final Trip to the vet only if she started to show signs of pain.
I was sitting on the couch, stroking my little friend and cooing to her.
She tried to get up on her feet and she yelped.
My heart sank.
I scooped her up, walked over to my wife so she could give our five-year old doggie a Last Kiss and off we went to the vet’s office.
I held her the whole way there and as we sat in the vet’s office, he left the room. My brain was swimming.
Was I doing the right thing?
Did she have more time left?
I was blinded by tears and doubt when Tiffany struggled to her feet and looked me straight in the eyes. I knew exactly what she was telling me.
In her final moments, as the vet administered the shot, my heart shattered.
Thank you. You did the right thing. You saved me.
*****
Stay well.
