I have to tell you the foreword of this experience. This past Monday, I had to visit Evergreen Hospital for a prostate biopsy. Yeah, great. It was everything I hoped it wasn’t and then some, but I survived without nary a girlish scream (that I’m aware of). However, as I sat in the waiting area, when my wife came to get me, she had tears in her eyes. Of course, my comedic mind took me straight to, “Oh, disappointed I pulled through? Interfere with your plans?”
Then I realized this was serious. Crap. I hate serious stuff.
It turns out while my insides were being used as a practice court for prostate hockey, she had received a phone call. It was from her son, Nick, with the news that they were going to have to put down their dog, Teddy.
Whoa, whoa, whoa! Teddy was healthy, full of energy, all of 8-years-old. At least, that’s how she was the last time we saw her. However, since then, something had been not right. She became lethargic. The initial doctor visits resulted in the theory that she was anemic. While I was having my procedure, they determined that Teddy had a ruptured spleen, cancer and that it was only a matter of time.
Wow, that’s a lot to absorb in such a short amount of time. Here I was, ready to lay claim to having the worst Monday possible and my crown was quickly snatched away. And it just wasn’t right.
Teddy dated back to the young couple’s final year at the University of Washington, where they met. Despite being starving college students, they rolled the dice and got this incredibly cute pup, which they bestowed with the name, Teddy.
Where they were, so went Teddy. Hikes, breweries, you name it. They had planned to keep their bed a dog-free zone. That was a short dream. On occasion, they hoped to sleep in on a Saturday. Teddy was certain to make sure one of them was up. She was even the ring bearer in their wedding at the DeLille Winery.
Teddy was the kind of dog I hoped to have one day as a part of my immediate family. For the time being, I was looking forward to dog-sitting when they went out of town. But, for now, having her as a grand-pup was just fine. Whenever we’d get together, she’d be so excited, then she would calm down and want to be petted. Stop for a second, and she’d nuzzle her head under your hand so you knew you were slackin’. I think on rare occasions, I heard her bark.
Now, there we were. Standing in a vet’s office patient room, with Teddy lying on the table top, just not acting like herself. There were plenty of tears in the room and she obviously was picking up on the sadness. Everyone took turns petting and caressing her soft fur, but when you stopped, that familiar head-nuzzle just wasn’t there. Her body was shutting down in spite of all the love that surrounded her.
As family and friends poured in, I think we were up to 10 people crowding that room and the lobby. After everyone said their tearful goodbyes, her parents stayed with her until she went to that place with no pain.
It was a surreal day that finished with an even more surreal reality. Teddy was gone, but hardly forgotten. In time, I’m sure another dog will come along in the young couple’s lives. All I know is that they have got one hell of an act to follow.
For the time you got to spend on earth, Teddy, I’m really glad we got to spend a little bit of that time together. Yet another reminder in my life, to make every minute count.