-- by Jayne Arnone, Tessa's mom
We first saw an IG in a mall pet store, while on vacation in Virginia Beach. My husband Sam and I became so interested that when we returned home we were online constantly searching for information. We contacted Esther Ryan, a breeder and IG Rescue volunteer in Kansas City, who happened to have recently rescued two Iggies. She described them as "skin and bones," so we had to be patient for the opportunity to adopt one of them. While Esther nursed the dogs back to health, we kept in touch, and on August 1, 1999, we traveled from Lock Haven, Pa. to Kansas City, Mo. to pick up Jazzy.
We'll never forget how terrified he was, for he had been abused in some manner. After months of love, care and massages, Jazzy settled down. He became the light of our lives, and our other dog, Barney's, best friend. After six years with the two of them, we felt we were ready for a third dog in our lives -- of course, another Iggy was the only choice. Once again, we contacted IG Rescue and found two IGs in Ohio who were ready for adoption. The Cleveland-area Rescue rep, Melissa, put us in touch with Tessa's foster mom, Sandy Waldecki.
In June of 2004, we drove to Cleveland and came home with our first female Iggy, Tessa. She was beautiful, fawn with white markings and huge brown eyes that melted your heart. She was six years old, well adjusted and very loving. She gave non-stop kisses and followed us everywhere. On the first night, she slept between our pillows, which we understand was not her style while in foster care.
There were a few skirmishes and snaps between Tessa, Barney and Jazzy as to who would become the "alpha" dog of the house; most of these "fights" occurred over food. Tessa loved her food! In the end, she was crowned queen of the house, and all three got along very well. Every night, she would wash Jazzy's face; this went on for 15 minutes at a time. It's a wonder Jazzy had any fur left on his face! They slept curled up together, as most Iggies do. Barney likes to sleep above the covers, at the bottom of the bed.
In August of 2004, we decided to have some moles removed from Tessa's side. It turned out that she had more than just moles. When our vet rolled her over to remove them, he noticed that one thigh on the inside of her leg was much bigger than the other. This was something we never noticed; it just wasn't visible when she was standing up or even lying down. The vet debated whether to go in and see what it was, and in the end, he did. What he found was a huge mass of blood and clots. He biopsied the area, and within a week we learned that Tessa had a hemangiosarcoma, a very rapidly growing form of cancer. Our vet immediately referred us to the University of Pennsylvania Veterinary Hospital in Philadelphia. The doctors there gave us a few options, but none gave us much hope. We could have her leg and thigh removed, with the addition of chemotherapy, but there were no guarantees -- maybe 6 to 8 months. If she had radiation and chemo, she would most likely be sick, and would need to be penned up because of the diarrhea and vomiting.
We decided to let her live her last days out in happiness. She was still so happy and did not appear to be in pain. After a while, she started to hop on three legs, so our vet gave her pain medication and anti-inflammatory drugs. Otherwise, she still seemed to be doing fine.
Her thigh became larger and harder, and she began to have difficulty jumping up and down from the bed. We had to carry her down the steps to our backyard to go to the bathroom. We were watching for the signs the vet told us we would see and know when the end was near. The first sign was when she could just not get comfortable; she just kept getting up and down and could not lay still.
On November 29, a day after Sam had gone to hunting camp, Jayne awoke and saw that Tessa was not in our bed. Jayne looked all over the house and finally found Tessa lying on the floor, on the other side of the bed in our guest room. She was laying on some pillows, with her tail wagging and and her big brown eyes seeming to say, "Please help me." Jayne brought her a favorite treat to see what she would do, and she didn't touch it. Jayne carried her outside and back in. She continued to simply lay there, then Jayne noticed that the tumor area was seeping blood.
We didn't want to see Tessa in any pain, and Jayne made the decision immediately. Jayne called the vet, and it was decided that we would put her to rest at 4:30 p.m. that day. Jayne called Sam at camp; he immediately came home and together we wrapped her in a blanket. She was still giving kisses, and even ate a little piece of bread with peanut butter.
We stayed with her as Jayne whispered in her ear, "Meet me at the Rainbow Bridge." After the doctor injected her, it was only five seconds until she was in heaven, with those big brown eyes still open.
We had her for only six months, but what a fun and wild time we had together. Her antics were hysterical, and we loved her with all we had. As we said before, she loved food of any kind. Her previous owner made her bacon and eggs every morning; needless to say, when she came into Rescue, Tessa was extremely overweight and needed to slim down. Once, in our funniest moment, Jayne had company over, and everyone retired to our sunroom after dinner to let the dogs out. All of a sudden, Jayne didn't see Tessa -- and when Jayne looked in the dining room, there she was, all four legs on the table. She had eaten the entire top layer of lasagna! It was to be Sam's dinner, as he wasn't home yet. When he got home, Sam ate it anyway.
Tessa's favorite activity was to upset the kitchen garbage can and have trash everywhere. Jayne came home from work to find this many times, and we quickly learned to lock up the trash can. One time, Jayne forgot something on her way to work, and returned home; in a matter of five minutes, Tessa had gotten up on our bar and had her nose down in the fish tank! Six times, she ate cans of fish flakes. We had to work hard, moving chairs and putting things in cabinets, to Tessa-proof the house. But how we would laugh at her antics!
We miss her terribly. We didn't know we could cry so much. But we know she is in a better place, and we were only too happy to love and care for her during her final days.
She was cremated privately and placed in a lavender metal box engraved, "Tessa - Beloved Friend." She is buried in our backyard at the feet of our statue of St. Francis of Assisi, under our Pergola where she is protected from snow and rain. The birds and squirrels visit her often. Sleep peacefully, Tessa.
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