Best Friends
Unexpected friendships are the best ones — they’re also the toughest to lose. If asked, the word I would use to describe it? Gut-wrenching.
My unexpected friendship started more than a decade ago. Actually, it’ll be fourteen years this summer that we met. The connection, instant. Now, undoubtedly, we’re best friends.
Note, this isn’t some eloquently written piece. It’s just an informal story — writing from my heart — about myself and my friend. And, it’s important I write about her because she’s gotten me through some of the toughest times in my life, and, sadly, her time on this earth is growing short.
So, telling our story just allows me to memorialize and remember our bond, our friendship and the incredible impact she’s had on my life. My friend’s name is Ashes — and she’s a rescued, mixed-breed (and now) senior, dog.
Just Looking
In November 2004, I met Ashes at the county animal shelter. She was this little, brindled-color puppy, covered in shades of browns and black — a stark contrast to her now white face — who looked like her ears were a little too big for her small body. I couldn’t tell what type of dog she was. The shelter tag estimated her to be 4-months old and labeled her a mixed breed — a stray someone had just dumped. Maybe she’s a shepherd mix or a lab mix? (Later, a Wisdom DNA test would let us know she’s 70% Staffordshire Terrier, 25% Labrador Retriever, and 5% Springer Spaniel). At that time, nobody knew. But she was a whole lot of cuteness and she jumped and squealed with excitement as I walked up to her kennel.
Of course, I had gone to the shelter just “to look” but I couldn’t leave without her. Something was just pulling me to her. So, the the shelter fee was paid, paperwork signed and off we went to begin our new life together. We named her Ashes.
Just days after Ashes was adopted, I broke my leg and was laid up for a few months. Fortunately, I had recently moved to California, just finished law school, and hadn’t started working yet. So, as life would have it — she and I had plenty of time to bond.
And, we were inseparable. She sat right next to me throughout my healing, while I regained mobility, never leaving my side. As a puppy, Ashes was extremely eager to please, picking up commands quickly, and was very expressive and attentive — just so much personality. We were bonded in every sense — she was my bestie.
She was also my first real friend, here, in California. The OG.
The Dog Whisperer
Ashes wasn’t without her quirks. Despite being incredibly obedient, attentive, and loving, there was one trait we couldn’t break — her dislike for other dogs. In fact, she was aggressive towards them. She bared her teeth, she growled — frankly, it was abnormal behavior for a puppy (based on everything we read). We discovered this quirk early on because we had another dog at home. At times, they were the best of friends, and other times, it was full on war. I guess you could say they had a love-hate relationship.
I was terrified at the thought of having an aggressive dog. I actually went back to the shelter and spoke to them, trying to get any insight I could into her behavior or background — but she was a stray, with no history. The shelter did offer me obedience classes, which were free for anyone who adopted a shelter dog, but told me I should probably plan to have her euthanized given how abnormal her puppy behavior was. In short, this couldn’t be corrected. That advice didn’t sit well, at all. Instead, it just motivated me to prove the non-believers wrong — she wasn’t a lost cause or hopeless. I immediately rejected that idea. Also, for those who know me well, I have a hard time giving up on anything — If its a worthy cause, I fight to the end. So, the last thing I was ever going to do was give up on this sweet, sweet dog who I adored and who adored me. Instead, I had a different plan. I was going to do everything in my power to provide her an opportunity to be a happy, well-adjusted dog-friendly dog. Giving up was not an option.
I signed up for obedience classes immediately, of which we actually did 3 rounds just to make sure it stuck. No shortcuts, here. Ashes picked up obedience class easily and was routinely the “demo dog” to show how to properly execute a command. That’s my girl, she was a pro…just don’t get her too close to other dogs, as we did have a few scuffles. In addition, I also read everything I could on dog behavior, and stumbled across Cesar Millan — you know him, The Dog Whisperer. Watching Cesar transform dogs gave me hope Ashes could truly have furry friends. So, I watched every episode of his show, attended a conference he gave in San Jose, and read all of his books. When I commit, I really commit, and I was committing to becoming a dog whisperer, too. Ashes was going to be a success story.
And, for the most part, we did it. She became friends with our other dog…they played together…they barked at the UPS guy together…they napped together. It was a lot of work and it was a lot of hours. But, like anything, you get out what you put in, and this (to me) was worth all of that time and effort. Looking back, I wouldn’t change a thing — it was a powerful life lesson taught to me by a dog.
All the Single Ladies
Sadly, that friendship didn’t last and neither did my marriage. In 2011, I found myself going through an incredibly painful and humiliating divorce, at the same time learning both my parents were diagnosed with cancer within months of one another. I was devastated and scared, and didn’t know how I would cope. On a positive note, though, at least I had my dogs — or so I thought. Like most things in divorce, our dogs were considered marital property and subject to equitable separation as part of the dissolution agreement. As hard as I tried to keep them both, the law, unfortunately, didn’t see it the same way.
Eventually, it was just me and Ashes. Just a couple of single ladies coping with an empty, quiet house, a painful divorce, the devastating death of a parent, and the fear and uncertainty of starting over alone — far from my home of Illinois. It was painful. It was isolating. It felt insurmountable.
But she and I had each others backs— always. Ashes was by my side, just like when she little and stayed right next to me as I healed from that broken leg. Only, this time, she stayed right next to me as I healed through loss, through grief, and through rediscovering myself. At my lowest point, she kept me going and I don’t know how I would have survived without her. Loyal, strong, sweet and unwavering in her companionship.
Second Chances
In life we’re offered second chances — it’s the hallmark story of a rescue dog, just like Ashes. And while hers are slightly different than mine, our newly-single life was all about opportunity. We braved divorce and death together, which meant we were brave enough to handle anything together — including a new career, a new place to live, a brief dabble in politics, and dating. Some, obviously more scary than others, but we survived and we did it, together.
Eventually, she and I were both lucky enough to meet a really great guy, who accepted Ashes and I as a package deal. Ironically, as Ashes and I were starting our lives over, he, too, was starting his life over. Medically retired from the fire service for an ACL injury, recently divorced, and also trying to navigate a new career and dating. Seconds chances — something all three of us had in common.
The One Constant
Life is wildly complex and unexpected — full of ups and downs, joys and sorrows, endings and beginnings. It’s ever changing and unpredictable, no matter how well you think you have it mapped out. There’s always a curveball. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think my life would follow the path it did, but thankfully the one constant through all of what life has thrown at me was my dog, Ashes, my loyal companion — my best friend.
“A person who has never owned a dog has missed a wonderful part of life…” — Bob Barker
Ashes has been at my side since the beginning — through every up and down and twist and turn, and throughout all of the critical growth stages of my life. To say her impact on my life is profound, would be an understatement. It’s not even measurable. It’s hard to explain our connection — but I promise, if you’ve ever had the amazing opportunity to bond with a dog, I know you get it.
My advice to anyone trying to get through this crazy life experience is don’t go it alone — in life, to survive, you need a dog. Full stop.
I’m Not Ready
Ashes and I have traveled a long road together, and when it finally seemed like we’ve reached a bright spot, coasting along where life feels right — we received some gut-wrenching news. Two weeks ago, we received a call that turned our world upside down.
While at work, our pet sitter stopped by to let Ashes out, only to discover her breathing erratically and almost non-responsive. She called us at work to let us know there was a problem and took Ashes to the vet while we rushed home. We learned Ashes was in shock due to blood loss as a result of a massive tumor on her spleen that was at risk of rupturing. Fortunately, we were able to get her into surgery, which was successful, but not without complications for a senior dog. The vet discovered her spleen grossly enlarged, along with a tumor the size of a softball. In addition, they discovered a node on her liver and suspicious spotting on her omentum. The prognosis for full recovery is not good, but I am just not ready to accept what might be ahead.
We’ve been on a roller coaster of emotions since that day. Recovering from a massive surgery as a 13-year old dog isn’t easy. Ashes has been on pain meds, taking in little food, panting off and on because she hurts, and is just plain worn out. My husband and I take turns sleeping downstairs on the couch with her — our doggy slumber parties, we call them— to ensure she gets her pain meds, can get outside if she needs it, and just to monitor her for any problems while we wait for results from the pathologist as to whether she has cancer. Specifically, hemangiosarcoma, an aggressive and deadly cancer that only affects older, large dogs. We’ve been trying to come to terms with the outcome that may be ahead for us — I think I’ve cried almost every day at the thought of not having her around. After everything we’ve been through together — I can’t imagine even one day without her.
“Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.”
The past few days Ashes seemed to be gathering strength, wagging her tail, grabbing her toys, and her full, silly personality was starting to show again. We were looking forward to getting back to our routine this week, feeling hopeful and like normal-life again. We even had a follow-up visit with the vet yesterday, and things looked good.
Then, out of nowhere, she took a turn last night around 7pm. For the first time in a few days, she had eaten almost all of her food. A short while later, everything she ate came up, and continued several times throughout the night. At first, we thought it was because she ate too much, too fast — given her prior lack of appetite — but later we realized that wasn’t it. It was my husband’s turn to sleep downstairs, as he planned to stay home the next day while I finally returned to work. But at 3 in the morning, in tears, he woke me up letting me know I might want to come downstairs — the situation wasn’t good. My heart sank. Ashes couldn’t get comfortable, her breathing was labored, she just couldn’t rest. I think we were both preparing ourselves for the worst at that point.
Once we got Ashes to the veterinarian clinic, her doctor was immediately concerned about her heart — also assuming the worst, as we’re all waiting on the pathologists’ report for clarity. The vet sent us home to rest with the likelihood of having some incredibly tough decisions to make later that day. Instead, we both sobbed all morning at the realization of what was happening.
Surprisingly, Ashes stabilized. Her tests and heart rate returned to normal. Her breathing better. And the vet allowed us to actually bring her home. Home sweet home. The vet now believes her difficulty was due to pain and inflammation from the surgery, which caused the vomiting and discomfort. An ounce of hope returned. I’m happy to report she’s resting, right now, as I write this, tonight…and, we are ever so grateful for a just a bit more time with her.
My 95-Year-Old Friend
While I don’t know what the pathologists’ report will say, I do know I am losing my best friend. I know our time together is growing short and eventually, we’ll be saying final goodbyes. I’m still not ready — I don’t want this to be the end of our journey — not yet.
I share Ashes’ and my story to provide just a little perspective as to why losing a pet is so devastating, especially if you’ve never been through it. Sharing your life with a dog is an amazing, enlightening, and beautiful experience. She’s clearly more than “just a dog” — she’s my co-pilot, a member of our family, and my best, very best, friend. We’ve shared a lot together in this life, and I’ve relied on her for getting me through the most difficult of times. I don’t want to let go. There really are no words to describe a life shared with a dog. The value of the gift she’s unselfishly given to me in her own way consistently since the day I brought her home is immeasurable— steadfast companionship, her unconditional love, her silliness and funny personality, and her unwavering friendship over so many years — 95 dog years to be exact. I am forever grateful her beautiful soul touched my life so deeply…and so unexpectedly. I’m still trying to figure out how I’ll manage without her. It won’t ever be the same — it’s gut wrenching.
But in true dog-fashion, every one knows you can’t be sad for so long as you have a dog in your life —they’re here to remind us to be happy and that life IS good. And, thankfully, we still have some time to be happy — life IS good with Ashes.
So, I want to end with a few of the lessons and memories our 95-year-old friend has taught us over the years, in no particular order. Perhaps, you can relate. So, here they are:
- Every once in awhile, you just need to be silly and let the zoomies out.
- Always make time to soak up at least 10 minutes of sunshine. Then come inside, and then go back outside, but be sure to come back inside again — in that order. It’s all about balance.
- Ashes may not like all dogs, but she loves people. And, that’s OK because we love all dogs, but not necessary all people. So, we totally get it.
- Life is too short to pick up all the dogs toys — pause and enjoy the moment.
- Ashes is 1-part land shark (diving in and around the couch) — fun, silly, excitable, and 1-part sleepy seal — clumsy, hungry and snuggly. Our spirit animal.
- Ashes is the bond that connects my husband and I, which is why she’s decided she must always sit between us. That’s the rule.
- Ashes taught my husband and I to communicate better. When one person raises their voice, she sits down right next to the other person and stares to remind us to channel our “calm assertive energy” and to use our inside voices. Just say no to drama.
- Ashes taught us that cats and dogs can live together…in separate rooms…on opposites sides of the house.
- Dogs beds are great, but there’s nothing like the couch — the best dog bed of all.
Thank you, Ashes, my friend — my best friend — for everything you’ve given us in life. We love you, always.
In Memory of Ashes ~ Aug 2004 — July 2018
