Tuesday, March 1, 2011

When the Heart is Sad

Since his early years, Shmulik has always loved animals. It almost doesn't matter what kind of animal. Birds, cats, dogs, rabbits. Even hamsters, guinea pigs, and snakes. We took him to the safari a year or two after we arrived in Israel - he was probably all of 4 or 5 years old. He loved watching the animals run as we slowly drove through the beautiful area, twisting lanes that led between the various enclosures. Lions lounging fascinated him; he loved the zebras and the deer.

At one point, in the deer area, we parked to watch the grace and beauty that is nature and the deer. We stayed parked on the side and watched as a young fawn slowly walked behind our car and stood in the middle of the road. Shmulik decided the baby deer was lost and didn't know where his mother was. He insisted that we take the deer home with us so he wouldn't be scared. We tried to explain to Shmulik that the deer's mother would find him; that everything would be okay; that we could not take him home. Shmulik started to cry and cry.

When we first moved to Israel, Amira and Elie were scared of dogs. As someone who had grown up with dogs (more than I want to admit), I found this intolerable. A year after moving here, we got Sheba, a beautiful white and black dog. A year later, my sister called and told us that a dachshund had been abandoned on the side of the road, taken by a neighbor and nursed back to health. Sushi joined our family.

I doubt there has ever been a dog as gentle as Sushi. Several other families have offered to take her in the past. We went away on vacation one year and left her with loving friends for a week, only to learn that she was a tyrant. Little Sushi! I went to pick her up, astounded that she had been misbehaving. She ran to me when I saw her and would not leave me alone for a second. I put her in the front passenger seat and circled the car. She immediately crawled into the driver's seat to be closer.

I pushed her back into the passenger seat and had to keep one hand on her, touching and petting her, all the way home. When Davidi was a toddler, he tormented Sushi. We told him to leave her alone, but he was terrible. One day, he was leaning over her. Sushi had had enough. She stood up and Davidi slipped off her. He looked at me, as if expecting me to give Sushi a hard time. I wanted to say, "Good Sushi!"

We've added cats at various points to our home, fish and birds. I think we had a hamster, but that was short-lived and against my wishes and eventually, we settled down to the 1 fish in Shmulik's room, the 11 birds, including Coco the African Violet, beautiful Sheba who wasn't very smart, and gentle Sushi. Sheba died about three years ago, after a long life and Shmulik missed her terribly. He asked us to get another dog.

We held out for a while; Sushi was getting old - already she was 12-13 years old so we decided to get a puppy. Simba joined our family and it was strange having a bouncing puppy, energetic, and full of action. Somehow, he knew to yield to Sushi and the two were often found cuddled together. More than once, Simba would stand by while Sushi ate his food (only later to go over and eat Sushi's). Simba quickly learned how to open doors (literally) and stand on walls. When we moved to our new house about a year and a half ago, Simba delighted the neighbors by standing on the wall of the upper balcony, towering over the neighborhood.

I'm delaying so I guess I'll get to the point.

Sushi died during the night and it is hard on all of us - harder perhaps, on Shmulik. When Sheba died, Shmulik came with us to the vet when it was clear she was suffering and in pain. We cried together outside while my husband stayed with Sheba as she slipped away. It is an agonizing decision to make and one that was even harder with Sushi.

In the end, there was no decision to make. For days, we have been giving her medicine, coaxing her to eat and weighing the decision. Yesterday, she was quieter and was refusing to eat. I gave her a few teaspoons of water - all she would take before going to bed. I was sure that today I would have to make a final decision and probably take her to the vet. I hated the idea.

In the end, she slipped away, gently in the night. It was Shmulik who helped me take care of the body. I couldn't even bring myself to touch her to confirm she was gone. I called Elie. After years in the ambulance squad, he has sadly been around dead bodies. Elie is great with many things, but has never been a real animal lover. He'll help when he has to, but is more than happy to be left alone.

I asked Shmulik for help, another sign that our relationship has reached this mutual stage where it is one between adults, rather than solely that of parent and child. Shmulik touched Sushi and finally covered her. His eyes filled with tears but he was amazingly gentle. As with Sheba, we cried together.

Sushi lived an amazingly long life - even for a dachshund. Aliza cried this morning before leaving for school. I told her that from my calculation, Sushi had lived at least 17 years. In dog years, she was at least 119 years old. According to Jewish tradition, a full life is 120 years. We don't know exactly how old Sushi was. She was thrown away on the side of the road by some callous people when she had puppies. All her puppies died; Sushi was very ill when she was found. I don't know what caused them to be so cruel, but I know their act of cruelty was a blessing for our family.

It could easily be that Sushi was a few months older than a vet assumed so many years ago. It is only those few months that stand between her and 120 years. Perhaps, God has granted her a perfect and full life of 120 years. Certainly, she gave me the gift of not having to decide and I know she did not suffer. She simply left our lives as she entered it, gently and sweetly. I know that from the time we got her, she was loved. She was warm and fed and had children to play with. She would often sleep outside our bedroom door. Just yesterday, Shmulik found her sleeping on the floor in my room and took her back to her bed to rest on a blanket. She always wanted to be near us. She had a full life, I told Aliza, and went as gently in death, as she lived her life. I can't begin to explain how much we will miss her.

But I am comforted, or trying to be, by the very real truth that I don't think you can ask for much more in life than what Sushi had (and what she gave us) - pure and simple love.


10 comments:

Elise said...

I am sorry for your families loss.

Rahel said...

Paula, I'm so sorry to hear this. I too have lost pets and it's terribly painful. I hope that eventually you'll find consolation in the knowledge that you gave Sushi a good life filled with love and care and that she not only loved you, but also knew how much you loved her.

Rahel said...

Paula, I'm so sorry to hear this. I too have lost pets and know how much it hurts. I hope that eventually, you'll find consolation in the knowledge that you gave Sushi a good life filled with love and care and that she not only loved you, but knew how very much you loved her.

Avi said...

Beautiful post. Sushi seemed very sweet when we met her and she certainly delighted Temima. I am sorry for your loss.

DeanO said...

I'm sorry about your loss. As a pet owner for all my life I know the sadness and grief this loss brings. Thanks for posting pictures of your beloved pet.

ProphetJoe said...

I'm so sorry for your loss. I had a dog growing up. I got him when I was 11 and he died when I was 27. He was always my faithful companion. My wife and I got 2 dogs not long after we were married. The female was a natural mother. She helped mother 3 of our 4 kids. She passed away before our youngest was born. We now have 3 dogs in the house. I totally understand your pain... our thoughts and prayers for your family.

A Soldier's Mother said...

Thanks, everyone. It's been very hard telling each of the kids. Aliza says the house feels empty. Truthfully, it happened the way I wanted it to - with her at home, in her own bed, not scared by some doctor giving her a shot. When Sheba was sick, we kept hoping we could put it off. We did the operation they recommended, etc. - and on the last day, the doctor saw how upset we all were and started so say maybe there was more he could do. I could see Shmulik and my husband already starting to listen to him and I asked, "for how long? How long will this help?" and he said, "maybe even a few more days," and when I heard that - I said, no, it was time to let her go.

I can't believe this is even harder, even though I knew it was coming. Even last night, I wasn't sure she would make it through the night. We buried her, Shmulik and I together, in a beautiful, quiet place. She really was such a special, special part of the family.

Ye'he Sh'mey Raba Mevorach said...

I loved that dog. She was so sweet, so loving, so patient, so grateful for every pat. I will miss her quiet greeting when I come to your house. G-d keep her. I'm sure there's a doggy heaven.

jan said...

I read your post with tears running down my face, knowing what was coming. Please accept my deepest sympathy for the loss of your precious fur baby...We lost our golden girl three years ago, and it still hurts. There is nothing like the unconditional love of a pet. There is an online site www.petloss.com where people that have lost pets write about them...they validate your feelings, and will even design a web page for you...perhaps one of the kids will look into that...it helped me immensely. May the wonderful memories you have of Sushi sustain you in the years ahead. And absolutely YES, there is a special place for pets...called the Rainbow Bridge.

Bee said...

being owned by a westie who we all adore and having sadly lost other beloved dogs in the past I understand how you are feeling right now. You gave Sushi a perfect life where she was cared for and loved and now she is out of pain and running free with all our beloved pets who have passed. She was a blessed little dog to have found you and you are blessed by having had her in your lives. Simba will miss his pal too.

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