My wife, Didi, and I have been sitting in the waiting room with our baby girl, Heidi, for what seemed to be several hours in anticipation of seeing Dr. Bell. It has been over two weeks that Heidi has been sick and refused to eat, and we were very concerned, which is why we brought her back to get examined. Didi and I were afraid that we wouldn’t be able to handle Dr. Bell’s diagnosis of Heidi’s condition. Dr. Bell had seen Heidi several times during the past months and, each time, Heidi’s condition seemed to have worsened.
At long last, we were escorted to the examination room. Heidi was very weak so I picked her up and helped her onto the examination table. Although she looked healthy, she laid there on the table without a whine or a whimper – she hardly had the strength. She looked up at me with sad eyes as if to say, “Please let me go.”
After a few minutes, Dr. Bell came into the room. He started with the usual examination feeling Heidi’s throat, chest area, and stomach. He then put the stethoscope to her chest to listen for her heart. After a few moments, he looked up at my wife and me with a solemn look, “I’m afraid that there’s not much more that I can do for her – her heart is very weak. We could put her on medication but it wouldn’t do much good. It might help prolong her life by only a couple of days or, optomistically, a couple of weeks. Why don’t I leave you to decide on what you want to do from here.”
I started to recall when we first picked up Heidi at my wife’s former boss’ house. Heidi was a beautiful two year old German rottweiler with silky black fur. Apparently someone had left her in a trash container when she was younger, where she was found and later cared for by Didi’s former boss’ family. They were giving Heidi away because she needed a home where she could be the only dog. They could no longer keep Heidi because they had three other dogs that Heidi would steal attention from. Heidi took quickly to us, so we were very happy to adopt her.
Heidi had a great disposition and proved to be a great companion for both my wife and me. Heidi was pretty much house trained, so we kept her in the house during the first few weeks. She was also a very smart dog and would often find ways of getting into places with little or no effort.
One day, my wife received a call at work from a neighbor who said, “do you know that you have a dog on your roof?!” My wife immediately came home to find Heidi sitting and waiting on the roof of the first level of our house. Apparently, Heidi had climbed on the bay window seat of our bedroom on the second floor, pushed the window screen out and climbed out onto the roof. We made certain that all the windows and doors were closed before we left for work from then on. We definitely had quite a lot of happy times together through the ten years that we had Heidi.
In contrast, there we were in the examination room facing a very difficult decision. After contemplating and reflecting for what must have seemed like hours, I looked at my wife, who already had tears in her eyes, and said, “Heidi has pretty much made the decision for us. As much as I hate to do it, I think it’s time to let her go. She’s led a very happy life with us and it would be selfish of us to keep her alive just for our sake.” Didi agreed and shakingly said, “I know.”
Dr. Bell came in and we told him of our decision – in retrospect, it was Heidi’s decision and we were there to respect it. Dr. Bell prepped the needle and informed us that it would be just like Heidi was going to sleep. He said that the process of her heart stopping would be instant and that she would not feel any discomfort. He also warned us that towards the end, she would let out a release of air like a sigh but that it would be just a natural reaction and that she would already be gone by then.
Dr. Bell inserted the needle to Heidi’s right front leg and almost immediately, Heidi dropped her head slowly in a resting position. Her eyes started to glaze over and her eyelids started to get heavy. She closed her eyes and her breathing started to slow as Didi and I held her as comforting parents. Finally, there was silence…. Then a sigh… Our baby was gone… Pools of emotions erupted from my heart as I said “goodbye.” I’m not certain if she could even remotely hear me but I told her that she was going to a better place and that I would see her again some day on the other side.
I still recall all the great times that Heidi and I had playing in the backyard and walking around the block. My wife and I both miss Heidi – our companion… our friend… our girl.
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