She won that battle, by the way.
I know Skye was bred by a puppy mill, and had experienced some significant abuse. When I rescued her she was two days away from being euthanized (that was also the reason I adopted her.) She came to us with a lot of issues. She was also not a Sheltie, as I had been told, but a designer Sheltie-Pomeranian mix called a Poshie.
This is the only pic I have of Skye being visibly happy and excited, and it was probably because I had a snack in my other hand. She was not a friendly dog, or an affectionate one. She rarely played, didn't come when we called her, and preferred not to be touched. She was always hoggy and paranoid about food, and would attack Cole if he even came within a foot of her food.
She picked me as her person early on, probably just because I house trained her, and I was basically the only one in the house who could handle her for the first year or so. Gradually she began to tolerate being touched and held by the rest of the family, but I knew she didn't like it.
Skye also didn't like the vet, other dogs besides Cole (who she only ever barely tolerated anyway), children, strangers, the mail lady, the UPS man, our neighbors, birds, turtles -- you get the picture. She also really, really didn't like children, which made me suspect she'd gone through some kid-inflicted trauma before we got her. I always kept her on a leash outside, because if she even saw a kid walking past our house she would go berserk. Whenever Oliver came over I had to lock her in her kennel to keep her from attacking him.
A lot of people didn't understand why I formed such a close bond with Skye. I remember Mom saying I should get rid of her and get a nicer dog. I also remember walking out of the room so I wouldn't rip my mother's head off.
I think part of my unfathomable attachment to this dog came from understanding what she had been through on a deeply personal level. I've suffered many cruelties that have made it very hard for me to open my heart to others. I also saw something in her eyes that I don't think anyone else did: this desperate need to be loved despite being so unlovable. Skye reminded me of what Rilke wrote about dragons in Letters to a Young Poet:
"...perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave. Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us."
While my little dragon dog remained unfriendly and unaffectionate, even with me, she never willingly let me out of her sight. For the ten years of her life with us she stayed glued to me wherever I was or whatever I was doing. Maybe that was because I never expected anything from her; my love came with no strings attached. Or maybe it was because I was always the one to feed and pamper her.
She did so much for me without even trying. Weird as it was, our bond got me through menopause, becoming an empty nester, and even being left alone one Christmas. I can honestly say I have never loved any dog as much as Skye. I also made sure that she had a very good life to make up for the abuse she suffered as a puppy.
Like Cole, Skye also had a lot of health problems in old age. She lost control of her bladder about six months ago, so we had to keep her in diapers inside the house. Her kidneys began to fail. Like Cole she lost the ability to walk far, and I ended up carrying her everywhere with me. Two days ago she stopped eating her food, and only nibbled on some snacks if I hand fed them to her. Skye had never before refused food. She hardly touched her water when I brought the bowl to her. I thought it might be time.
I left her for a few minutes to get something in the office. When I came back out I found her literally crawling an inch at a time across the living room toward my office, trying to follow me. She was obviously in pain, and couldn't even stand up anymore. It broke my heart, but I finally knew just how much she loved me. I also knew I could let her go.
We took her to the vet yesterday. She died very peacefully in my arms.
Safe journey, my beloved princess.
3 comments:
Skye was a lucky girl. I have my own "Skye" and I know exactly why you loved yours so much. It's hard to explain to people who've never experienced it. I think there's something about a dog that needs us that makes us more fiercely protective and kind.
Thank you for being Skye's mom. I know Skye is saying the same thing right now.
Take care, my friend. You've gone through too much in too short a time. You need time for yourself now.
Love and hugs.
Oh, God, Lynn. I'm so, so very sorry. Truly sorry. She loved you, even if it was in her own way and not the way people expect to see it. And I understand the way you loved her back as well. I cried through this post, but it was both good and sad. Please, at this time, take extra care of yourself. Love you, my friend.
Oh, my friend, I am so sad. We, too, have dogs that no sane person would keep. But we know what to do to keep them safe. And if that requires an extra degree of care and forethought, that's what it takes. Much love to you, as you mourn Skye's absence.
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