What Did I Do?

Family Friday

Guest post by Donna A. Lewis, a doting aunt and mother to four-legged fur-balls

Just before 5:00 am, three Saturdays ago, my phone rang. I dreaded answering the phone. I knew it was the veterinarian and I knew why she was calling. If Addie had shown any signs of getting better in the five hours since I had left the animal hospital, the vet would have let me sleep. A phone call before her shift ended at 7 am meant that Addie was taking the turn we all feared. I drove the most horrible mile of my life to date and arrived at the animal hospital fifteen minutes later.  Addie was in medical distress that couldn’t be turned around.  Even now, after six days of treatment for what might have been pneumonia or a growing cancer or both, Addie’s body just wasn’t fighting back in the critical ways it needed to.Or, perhaps, Addie’s body was fighting back but no amount of her fighting was enough.  For six days, she had seemed to be trying really hard.

Addie was only 12 pounds and still acted like she was only 12 months old. But, over the course of those horrible 6 days, the veterinarians kept beginning sentences with “Well, if she weren’t 12 years old….”
For the first time in my entire life with Addie, science was stepping in and letting me know that she couldn’t possibly live forever even though she had always seemed like she would. Putting Addie to sleep was one of the most surreal experiences of my life. I couldn’t believe what was happening. And, perhaps not surprisingly to those who have been through it, I couldn’t believe that I had let this happen. I stood there wanting to shout out “No! It’s not her fault! She’s just a little 12-pound dog! She’s not ready to go! It’s my fault. Do something to me! Let her go home and take a nap!”

Yes, my intellectual, educated self understood the measures and factors that required us to end her life, but my emotional side felt the stress of disbelief that builds up after years of thinking that everything will be okay if you just do your best. And then I began the first course of what would become hundreds of rounds of ‘what if,’ a painfully unhelpful exercise. What if I had taken her to the vet just one day earlier? What if I had left her with the vet that second night instead of trying to take her home? What if I had obsessed about her blood oxygen levels instead of her temperature, respirations and hydration? What if I had skipped the out-of-town trip that required her to stay in a friend's house where maybe, just maybe, she caught whatever it is that dogs catch when they’re 12 years old?

I drove the second worst mile of my life to date. I arrived back at home before even the cat was awake. And then, with real and virtual friends on Facebook asking if their prayers had worked, I realized that I couldn’t tell anyone that Addie was gone I would have to tell my parents who were checking in every few hours for the “Addie Report.” My parents would say the right things. My parents would understand that life is much bigger than any mistakes or neglect we imagined we've committed. But I couldn’t tell the kids. I couldn’t tell the 7-year old who had grown up taking ever-increasing responsibility for Addie’s care and happiness. I couldn’t tell the 4-year old who had bonded with Addie immediately even though she knew little about dogs.

And I definitely couldn’t tell the 6-year old who, just a week before, had watched Addie for an entire twenty minutes all by herself. She had cried with fear and guilt when Addie ran in the opposite direction of the yard. No amount of explaining that dogs do such things would console her. She had no idea that she was far from the first person to lose control over a dog who loves to run. How could I now tell her that dogs were even more unpredictable than we've experienced? The kids were told over the next two days. And, over the next week, I fielded questions I dreaded answering. But answering the questions actually turned out to be the easy part, even while the children cried. The hard part was trying to convince the kids that I understood just how horrible they felt and that we couldn’t have done anything to save Addie. 

I guess it's hard to comfort kids when you can’t comfort yourself.  Luckily, it turned out that I’m surrounded by kids who are now trying to comfort me.

Donna A. Lewis is a lawyer, cartoonist and aunt to five bright and lovable girls.

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