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| Tamarah, Duquesa de Matanzas May 29, 1986 - June 16, 1999 |
| This is my baby. I got her for my ninth birthday, a time in my life when I really, really needed a pet, and my parents were scared that if I didn't get one, I might go nuts or something. I can still remember the day I got her -- she was so tiny, so scared. It was love at first sight..... Tammy had two incidents as a puppy that I believe were largely responsible for her schizophrenia. When she was about three months old, my grandfather died, and a family friend came to pay her condolences. She grabbed Tammy by the snout and shook her vigorously... I know she meant no harm, she was just a bit over-zealous. But I think it affected Tammy. A few months after that episode, Tammy got into the purse of one of my sister's friends, and she proceeded to devour her brand-new package of No-Doze. My sister discovered this in time to call the vet and do what she had to to get her to purge the stuff, but I think the damage was done. At any rate, those who knew Tammy will agree that she was a particular dog, anti-social and prone to mood swings. They say Cocker Spaniels are temperamental.... whatever the reason, Tammy was that way. This led to some difficulties when she was young, but she soon settled well into adulthood and remained aloof with people, everyone except my parents and myself. I loved Tammy very much. I felt very lonely for a great part of my childhood/adolesence, and Tammy provided me with much-needed comfort. I could swear by her behavior that she was human. As I grew into adulthood and Tammy into old age, we were life-long companions -- the rituals of our lives were not at all thrilling, but they were warm and sweet. She knew I liked to have her sit on my lap when I watched TV; I knew she liked a certain spot on my pillows. In March of 1999, I noticed a small pink spot on Tammy's lip. In a week and a half, it had grown to the size of a small rock. A week later, it was the size of a golf ball. Tammy had cancer. We did everything we could for her. When we took her to the vet about two weeks from the time I noticed the pink spot, the cancer had already spread to her ganglions. We operated immediately. They had to remove the ganglion and part of her lower lip. Although it killed me to even think it, I knew the end was near. The lab results came back and we were notified that she had a level four cancer, something vicious and fast-spreading. But when Tammy recovered so well, we hoped we had won the battle. She seemed very well after her surgery. When she resummed her pig-ish eating habits, we were uplifted. But it didn't last long. In late May, I noticed the same pink spot on the other side of her mouth. And where she had had surgery, the tumor had returned. It had taken over her left ganglion too. And she was miserable. Little by little, I saw her lose her energy and appetite. I was in so much pain, because I knew how much she was suffering and I couldn't stand to see her that way. My dad had told me that her fate was in my hands; she was, after all, my dog. I hated life during those weeks. I knew the best thing was to put her to sleep and end her suffering, but how could I willingly choose to end my beloved dog's life? I kept hoping for a miracle, or that she would die naturally in her sleep. But finally one day, when I saw how long it took her to eat her dinner, when I saw how painful eating had become for her, I knew I had to stop being selfish. I told my dad I would let her be put to sleep, but that it had to be in our home, where she could be comfortable and surrounded by love. Saying good-bye had never hurt so much. On her last day, I just held her in my arms, crying, telling her how much I loved her and would miss her. She would just look at me, and every now and then, she would lick my hand and try to wag her little stump of a tail. I couldn't sit with her when the vet was ready to inject her into eternal sleep. My dad held her and I just stood away. I couldn't even look in that direction. It was over in minutes, and the vet was very kind to us. It has been over a year since her death, and to me, it is just like she died yesterday. |
| Fall 2000 |