June 6, 2023 eblast:
This morning at
9:40am, Catherine took little Donald Mac to the vet for the very last time.
104 days.
That's all we had.
God knows we wanted more.
We packed a lot into those 104 days though.
And not just the medical stuff.
After all, the blood tests/ultrasound/xrays/splenectomy surgery
--- all those things were the icky parts for Donald.
We'd rather like to remember the good stuff,
by beagle standards.
Like following Catherine to the fridge even if his appetite wasn't up to the aforementioned
beagle standards.
He'd follow her just about anywhere.
He knew she loved him.
If only her love
could have been enough to fix him.
But it was something at least. That love.
He felt right at
home with it.
It showed in the carefree way in which he napped.
His little mesmerizing snore keeping in tune
with the soft music playing on the TV in their family room.
Yes, perhaps his favourite times were his
beloved naps cuddled up snug-as-a-bug on a large variety of exceptional beds.
He could nap for hours and forget his health
troubles.
He'd only wake when nature called.
That's when a sleepy Donald would sit up, yawn, strike his lazy
boy stretch pose, and waddle off to the big backyard that is the extraordinary beauty of Sheba's Haven to get the annoying
business of doing his business out of the way so he could go right back to bed.
It was his heaven
on earth.
But his worsening liver disease refused to let Donald live out his simple life more than these last
104 days.
It took him from his peaceful dreams.
He couldn't eat. He couldn't sleep.
So
once again, we found ourselves having to accept that we couldn't fix this.
Our Tribute here
isn't just for Donald though.
He's left us now.
I'm not going to say for greener pastures.
I can't imagine
greener pastures than at the Haven (thanks to Bill's excellent lawn care).
But I'm sure wherever this place we eventually
go is, it's beautiful.
And he's happy.
No more struggles.
This is why my
Tribute is also for his foster mom, Catherine.
Because she's still here, holding his collar in her hands.
In
the last 104 days, Catherine has done everything she could do to make life worth living for Donald in between those icky vet
visits.
Every day included food tasting events with Donald in the kitchen.
Catherine
would present His Highness with a large variety of gourmet dishes in the hopes of finding The One!
For a while, he
had a thing for the worst stuff on the market that Catherine jokingly referred to as Roadkill.
But eventually,
he turned his nose up at that too.
Keep in mind that Catherine runs her own palliative care rescue
for many chronically ill senior dogs, in addition to fostering palliative beagles for us. She has a busy schedule from the
moment the rooster crows off in the distance each morning.
But somehow, she is MAGIC.
Somehow, she manages
to make EVERY dog feel like they are the centre of her universe.
She is an incredible force. As is her partner,
Bill.
You may think losing a dog would be accepted as part of the deal when one chooses
to rescue very sick dogs for a living, especially after all these years. But that's just not true. While a Rescuer may know
this will eventually happen, their heart doesn't easily "accept" it at all.
That heart got into the
business of rescuing dogs because that heart has so much love to give.
When you lose the one you love with all your
heart, even if you love so many all at once, it breaks.
And yet, here's the amazing thing.
If another dog like Donald came tapping
their paw at Catherine's door tomorrow, she'd open her door and her broken heart in an instant.
Here's
to Donald Mac.
Here's to Catherine.
And Here's to ALL of our Devoted Foster Parents.
Our Love & Endless Appreciation for what you do.
