Dallas
February 5, 1993 – March 8, 2004
Dallas was quite possibly the most perfect dog. Well, no, no one's perfect, but she was nonetheless exemplary. Always one for the underdog, I took an immediate liking to her as she was the only pup left. She was what some could call "the runt of the litter"; she was underweight, her snout was longer and narrower than most collies, and her jaw didn't fully meet up. She didn't care. After all, she didn't have to clean up the water that fell out of her mouth after she drank. A trivial matter in light of recent happenings.
In her youth, she was a beautiful creature. One of the finest. Truly ladylike (well, disregarding the crotch-sniffing). Whenever she would run, she would put one leg in front of the other. It was as if she were prancing, walking working the catwalk. When she would lie down, she would cross her front legs. Regal. She would walk on the sidewalk and driveway rather than on the grass unless she really had to go or wanted a soft, cushy to lay down. And when she did lie down, she could stay outside for hours just sniffing the air.
She loved cheese. She also loved ice. She knew the sound of the compartment that held the cheese made when it was opened. She knew the sound of the freezer door opening. We knew enough to give her an ice cube. I guess frozen water in any form hit her sweet tooth. Winter was her paradise. She would scratch at the door, not to go potty, but to go out and eat snow. Which is what's on her nose in the picture – not cocaine; she lived in the suburbs, thankyouverymuch.
In her old age, she was beautiful too. Beauty, to her, seemed immutable. Even as her joints grew older, she still maintained a certain air of grace and elegance. Mind over matter. As much as it pained her, she would walk to the door to greet my siblings, my parents, and me as we entered the house, wagging her tail. She remained calm and placid during 6+ hour car rides to relatives' houses, never once getting carsick.
Things have a way of reaching a baseline. Just as water eventually makes its way down to the ocean from the highest of peaks, so too did my Dallas' health. Late last year she began to have seizures. No one quite knew what it was until after it had happened, but we all felt the depth to which it shook our idea that Dallas was susceptible to aging. Yes, all good things must come to an end, but no one is quite ready to give up on the good times.
She had about a handful more seizures in the following months. I did not like seeing this frailty that pervaded years of good health and good times. It wasn't pleasurable to see one who loves you unconditionally have harm befall her. Each time I went home during college, I made sure that I spent as much time with her as I could. And before I left to return to college, I made sure to say goodbye to her. Never, I thought, a final goodbye, but she was getting on in years and I didn't want to have her pass on without a goodbye. I wasn’t fully prepared for it though, and I am still wishing for one final moment with her, but that shall never be. I am comforted in memories, yet pained in the suddenness.
As I think about how I would spend that last moment with her, I choke back the tears. Just to scratch her behind her ears one more time, to hear the sound of her bark one more time, to lay beside her one more time I would give up anything – just for one more time.
I call my mom and dad every Wednesday and Sunday to catch up. Last night, as I was talking to them, they told me that they felt large bumps on her hind legs and that she wasn’t able to use them as well as she used to. They told me that they didn’t know how much longer she had.
They had told me this before, but each time it was said it had a greater probability of being fulfilled. The situation as a whole unnerved me. And as I lay waiting to fall asleep, I started thinking about losing Dallas. Around 3am it got to be so much that I started crying. I can’t remember the last time I had cried. I finally fell asleep.
The next morning I woke up. My mom instant messaged me, but fearing the bad news, told her that I had to get to class and had to run. I could have guessed what she wanted to tell me, but I knew I wouldn’t have handled it well. After classes were over, I saw that I my dad had called and that I had a voicemail – it was from my sister and she had a very somber tone. I called home and they answered: "Adam, we don’t have very good news for you...."
They told me how they were awakened at around 3am to Dallas having a seizure. Shortly thereafter, she had lost use of her legs. My mom brought to her her food and water bowl, but she didn’t drink or eat at all. It eventually got to the point that they had to put her down. How I would have loved to have been there with her, to ease her mind, for her to see that I still loved her and would be there for her.
But I am comforted by warm thoughts and memories.
She was beautiful and she was loved.
