Born: January 2, 1999.
Died: October 26,2000
My Mistye is a white poodle with those expressive brown eyes they are noted for. They just sparkle when she is excited and happy, but when she is sad her eyes take on a mournful look. When she senses that I am sad, she starts licking my face to comfort me.
She is so observant. She hates it when I leave the house without her, so she watches me like a hawk when I get up in the morning to determine what my plans for the day are. I usually go to the gym right after eating a small breakfast on weekdays and she can tell whether I’m going there by the clothes I put on. She starts looking sad when she sees my gym clothes. She also recognizes my ‘Church’ attire on Sunday, so settles down in my recliner to wait for me. She is very happy when she sees me in my housecoat, hair uncombed, no makeup, etc. because she knows I’ll be home until noon, at least. But she’s happiest of all, when I get dressed and say “Come on, Mistye. You can go.”
Dogs are so loyal and love us with a worshipful and undying love. The least we could do is return that love in full measure. They are in heaven when their family gives them love and attention, but some dog owners are negligent about giving their dog the love and attention it needs and even worse, some could care less about their pet’s feelings. I love Ginny Brancato’s poem, “A Pat on the Head,” that describes the thoughts of the dog just waiting patiently for his turn at attention only to be ignored. It will pierce the heart of any loving pet owner. It can be found on her web site Poems and Stories at RainbowsBridge.com.
Sunday night, October 26, 2009. My beloved Misty is gone. It happened so quickly. I was on the computer when I heard her yelping in another part of the house. My heart was filled with dread for it was a sound that you immediately recognize as utmost distress. When I found her, she was in a full-blown seizure. It couldn’t have come at a worse time. It was Sunday night about 9:15 p.m. It was a hectic fifteen or twenty minutes trying to locate the vet on call for emergencies while trying to tend to her at the same time. With her violently struggling towel-wrapped body clutched in one arm, and my other hand on the steering wheel, I sped to get her to the receiving clinic. Mistye was totally unaware that the one who loved her so much was holding her in her arms and desperately trying to get her help.
The vet, noting the severity of her symptoms, told me she had to stay the night and that he would give her seizure medicine and try to get her stable. He said that at 7:00 in the morning, I could come back for her and take her to her own vet to decide on a course of action.
I spent a sleepless night. I knew she was out of her head but her reaction made me think she was in horrible pain, though I wasn’t sure. I was at the vet’s office promptly the next morning and my worst fears were confirmed. She was no better. She had “seized” the whole night and he had her “smoked.” She was completely sedated because every time he tried to bring her around she was still in seizure. Even in that state there were weak little yelps.
She had been diagnosed as a diabetic about six months before and had serious diabetic related health issues. The prognosis this morning couldn’t have been worse. More than likely, she would be brain damaged since it had been under attack for ten hours. My heart was breaking because I could not stand for her to suffer anymore. I knew that once again, I would have to summon the courage to make the decision that is the most heartbreaking one that a pet owner has to do. So I held my “baby girl” in my arms as she was mercifully sent on her way to the doggie “Rainbow Bridge.”
