We brought Minnie home from my Dad’s pet store in March of 2000. She was just eight weeks old, full of puppy energy and the sweetest puggy face you could ever hope for; she was our dog baby and treated as such. She was promptly showered with gifts and love; lots of toys, a new bed, and all the food she could handle. Minnie was driven three days a week to “Doggy Day Care” in her early years. She would be buckled in with her special dog seat belt to the back of my car or my husband’s and dropped with all her friends for a day of fun and frolicking. Then, we would pick her up and she would pant with sheer joy as we were reunited; she would pull us to the car and hop up with glee every time.
When Minnie was two years old, we had our daughter, Emma. Minnie had been saddened when my belly got too large for her to sit on my lap during my pregnancy and when it was gone; she understood that she had to share my lap as I nursed Emma. Pretty soon, she stopped trying to jump on my lap until the baby went to bed for the night. She would save her snuggle time for then. She was an understanding and loyal friend. While Emma grew, Minnie became ever vigilant at her side. I would put the baby down for tummy time on the floor and Minnie would watch over her, not moving from the spot until I picked Emma back up and safely put her in her bouncy seat or crib. And then Minnie would move to that location to stand guard. If I left the room while Emma was rolling around on the floor, Minnie would bark until I returned. I think she was shocked that I would leave my puppy alone and unguarded.
As the years went by, Minnie remained Emma’s faithful guardian; she protected the baby at night until she was too tired and then she would hop up in my bed until Emma woke up in the morning and then it was “time to make the donuts” all over again. Minnie was thrilled every time we said, “Get your coat, we’re going for a walk”. She would prance around in her favorite coat like she was on a runway in Paris. She would pull us throughout the walk, Ron, me, the stroller in tow, exhausting herself but relishing every moment.
When our son, Jacob, came to join our family; Minnie welcomed the new baby with her usual motherly attention. Although, her hands were pretty full with a toddler at that point, she always managed a drive-by lick of Jacob’s face or to clean up whatever cereal or spit up he had around him.
Minnie maintained her matriarchal position over time and was personally offended if we tried to leave her for a weekend with someone else for travel. She once clawed her way out of my in-laws window, jumped out of the house – about a four foot drop and chased after us as we pulled away. We learned to kennel her from then on; feeling that she needed to be protected from her unabashed love of us.
When we moved to St. Joe in 2006, we enjoyed taking Minnie to the beach and downtown; she loved to meet new people - little children and babies particularly loved her long tongue and pug-face. Often she was sporting a new sweater or vest, and she clearly felt like the bell of the ball. She was a beauty and kind to all that she met. Even other dogs; she would rush right up to them to say hello and make a friend.
In the winter of 2008, we noticed that Minnie wasn’t jumping very well; she was missing the couch and having to take a couple tries to get up on the furniture; her normal hangout. One night, she was sleeping with Emma as she usually did then and she wasn’t able to get down from the bed. I had to come and get her and realized, too late, that she had needed to go out. We took her to the vet thinking that she just had a small problem that needed attention. That was not the case for our sweet Minnie. She was diagnosed with hip dysplasia and the doctor also found a spinal cord injury, probably from a jump; maybe out of a window perhaps, or from a million jumps on and off the couch?? We asked what we could do to help; the vet told us there was no treatment. She said we could try comfort measures but that this was a degenerative and painful disease. The vet told us there in her office in 2008 that we needed to get our heads around the inevitable. We looked at Minnie and thought, “No way, she’ll be fine; we’ll make her fine”.
Over the nearly three years since her diagnosis, we fought that damn disease. We didn’t want to say good bye to our darling girl. Soon, though, her gait slowed and she couldn’t get up and down stairs without great pain and effort. She could no longer sleep with us because she had become incontinent and had to be crated at night. She was no longer able to take her beloved walks and when we tried strollers, she struggled with the jerking movement. Roles reversed as her illness got worse. Emma and Jacob became Minnie’s guardian; watching over her if people came over or giving her extra love if she was fussed at for making a mess. Often, Jacob would remind us that she couldn’t help it and then he would lean over and tell Minnie that she was a good dog.
All of us nursed her through and tried to make her as comfortable as possible, we gave her cushy dog beds she was able to get on to replace the couch she loved so much. We brought yummy treats to her so she didn’t have to get up for them; we moved her food and water within inches of her bed.
We considered ending her suffering many times but didn’t have the courage to be unselfish. We wanted to be with her and couldn’t bear the thought of her being gone; even in the frustration of cleaning up after her multiple times daily. Soon, she was not able to get around much anymore, only occasionally being able to hop through the house to see us on her really good days. Every time she moved she was clearly in pain, her legs gave out from under her often. Finally, we could bear watching her pain any longer.
With our hearts breaking, we made the long drive to the vet. Even in the last moments, she tried to comfort us. She even gave us an impatient bark to tell us she was ready to go home. I had to say a hasty good-bye, because I knew if I stayed I would stop the vet. I gave her a final kiss and pet and left quickly. My husband stayed until the very end, cooing at her and stroking her head the whole time. We drove home, just the two of us, in near silence. We drove home with crumpled hearts, missing already the sounds, sights and even smell of our girl, Minnie.
And in the short week since her passing, as gut wrenching as it has been, we have been sharing our Minnie stories with each other, remembering the vibrant dog and family member she was and being infinitely grateful for having had her in our lives. She wasn’t here long enough, but I’m sure glad we got each moment with her. I am grateful for the 10 years, 9 months and 20 days that my canine friend, Minnie, was on this earth.
