Losing Buddy

More sad life lessons. I cannot help but hope, and even know, that these are the times when true character building is taking place. Like blocks being stacked or steel beams welded together, each new event occurs to eventually create God's finest works of art in the lives of our children. Through these events they must learn to accept and adapt as change takes place.....and things in life come and go...even the most beloved of things and what you hold so dear to your heart.

We discovered Buddy to be one of the best gifts ever to our family. He was an absolute dream of a dog. After the trauma of Tigger's death and a year's worth of looking and being picky about the right dog for our family due to the criteria we have Buddy fit the bill in every way...a rarity in the canine world. And a "buddy" he quickly became.

But after only 2 short weeks here, exactly to the day, we noticed him not feeling good. With Athena due to get her stitches out we just took Buddy in with her to get checked and make sure it was nothing serious that needed medical attention. It was said it could be as minor as a bronchial type of infection that just needed some antibiotics or as major as distemper. I've only ever heard of distemper and knew it was a part of many of the shots a dog receive but that's about how far my knowledge of the subject went. As my research loving mind always does I set to work researching canine illnesses. The more I searched the more horrified I was as my distemper knowledge expanded. I was hopeful it was merely a little dog cold since he was showing only a few of the symptoms. But by mid week if was very apparent something was really wrong and that he was indeed very sick.

The following Saturday came and as he laid pathetically by my feet and feebly followed me around the house he began to have muscle spasms over his whole body as different parts began to seize. His back legs had been seizing for about 48 hours but by Saturday morning it overtook his whole body. With Brad on shift the children and I stood by helplessly watching our new puppy die. Children's tears flowed freely and the why's began. After all of the prayers, all of the speaking life, health and vitality to him through the power we have as children of the living God, quoting Scripture over this dog and claiming healing through the power we have in the blood of Jesus, knowing that the Lord cares even for the smallest of animals and He cares for us we continued watching him grow worse.











Fearing a complete seizure and the nightmare it would be for the children to watch their puppy go through that I made the call. They know how Brad's brother, Uncle Ben, died and I had no desire for them to put the mental picture of a seizure to the knowledge they have of Ben's death.....despite the fact this was merely a dog. A seizure is traumatic no matter the sufferer....especially when it is something you hold so dear to your heart.

I had spent the week troubleshooting with our dear rescue friend and she had given me signs to watch for and, if it was truly the dreaded distemper, when to make the call to put him down. I recognized it immediately from the details she had given me. It didn't seem fair at all to have only had this dog 2 weeks, have fallen so in love with him and then have to go through this....especially with the children. I called Brad and let him know what all was taking place on the home front. I woke children from naps, shoes were fetched, older belted in younger and we carried Buddy to the van. We drove the 32 miles into town and were greeted at the ER vet clinic's doors by the vet's assistant who was now expecting for us. After taking one look and confirming it was indeed distemper and that he was in the last stages of it the prognosis was bleak. Only a 30 % chance of survival to the end of the weekend...only 30 hours away....and almost a 0% chance of surviving the most acute part of the disease.....the remaining 35 days we still had left to go. If by some miracle he did survive he would be left "mentally handicapped". I thought that was a strange term for a dog. Possible incessant running of circles, almost total paralysis and no quality of life were some of the predictions thrown our way. Due to the spasms and almost constant seizing permanent damage had already occurred in his back legs and was now taking place in his front legs. His brain had already started to seize...the last stages. It was heart wrenching to see such a sad slow death. It is always hard to look death in the face.

With this thought my mind seemed to float a thousand miles away. The local homeschooling community suffered several huge blows this week as the enemy launched an all consuming attack against all. More than a few families suffered devastating losses that seem absolutely incomprehensible to me. I cannot imagine the sorrow they bear right now. As I stood staring at death in the face of this puppy of our's my thoughts reeled at what they had been through this week. I stood mourning the loss of a puppy when they sat grieving the loss of a child....one family, even more than one child. The hot tears I felt streaming down my cheeks for this puppy seemed so trivial....so prudish and arrogant....as I pondered the face of death they had seen. Tears for the sick and dying dog before me turned to tears of grief for these families and the aching hearts left in the wake of death.

More thoughts as my tumultuous emotions spun endlessly in circles. Brad does not speak often of his job. More often than not I hear the funnier side of life at the station or the absolutely outrageous calls that make for good storytelling. From time to time I hear his impatience and griping over the torrent of needless but inevitable BS calls that fill his shift nights and allow no one to sleep. 2:30 am 911 calls for splinters in fingers or ingrown toenails or of a person that needed GasX and not a 4:00am ambulance ride to the ER. I know he does the hard stuff too but it is something never talked about. Somewhere in our marriage a deep unspoken understanding took place of allowing him to keep to himself that which he never wanted to remember again and trusting that I will know whatever he feels he needs to tell me. He rarely vents or feels the need to air out any of the atrocities I am sure he sees, so very rarely do I ever get a glimpse into the true life of a paramedic. I have learned in our 10 years of marriage though that about 98% of a firefighter/paramedic's career is spent paramedic-ing and the other 2%, if that, is spent actually fighting any kind of blaze. The majority of the inferno he wages war against is spent trying not to mentally revisit certain calls that somehow managed to seep through the seeming calloused, emotionless exterior that paramedics learn to cloak themselves with. In all of the years of our marriage I have only ever heard one of these stories. I have learned to respect his space and know that to even bring these things up in conversation is only reopening something that has been shut away somewhere deep within him and not to be pulled out again.

But as I stood crying over our dying puppy, grieving for these families that have lost so much in just one week, the respect for my own husband began to grow. We know each other in every way....every intricate detail of each other's lives.....except for certain areas of his work. At times I have even fought the green giant...not quite so jolly as what the commercials make him out to be......over this area of his life of which, at times, I feel completely shut out. Jealousy knocks at the back door and satan whispers lies at how I have been shut out of areas of his life. So my mind wanders.....what exactly do I want....gory details???? No............no. Not really that. Just the peace of knowing he is free to come to me with everything.

At this point I have been totally engrossed in my own thoughts now for quite some time. And so I stare at the face of death as I continue to ponder these strange things. As I stare into huge trusting brown puppy eyes I see the trust and hope of something so dependant on you to help it....to literally save it from death's grip. Pleading eyes asking for help. Suddenly I realize what my own husband must face on somewhat of a daily basis. I merely look into a dog's eyes but what must he see? The sights, the sounds that go along with innocent and premature death. He is the one that has to look a parent in the eye and know there is no hope of bringing their baby back, he is the one staring into the eyes of a child pleading for help when there is nothing he can do. He is the one that hears the wailing and begging of him to do something...just anything to save the life of their baby. Suddenly this forbidden part of him does not seem so bad. In fact, it is so far beyond my grasp to even comprehend and it brings forth a deeper respect than I have ever had for him. The death he has stared in the face I never want to see. In our 2 1/2 years of living here, and the sheer number of animals that have died in our care, it has not really gotten any easier to deal with death. There is a part of me that can process it better but the actual dying.....watching something die......never gets any easier. It is never easy to watch the suffering of another. We are human and this is the way God has designed our very beings. If I find it hard to watch an animal die what must it be to do my own husband's work? The respect I have for him continues to grow and God continues to reveal to me how to better love him and understand him even after almost 11 years of marriage. It takes an absolutely incredible person to do what he does on a daily basis. Someone tough enough on the inside to see what he sees yet kind and loving enough to continue going back and loving on those that the Lord puts in front of him each and every day....loving the unlovable and caring for the grieving, mourning their loss with them, yet coming home to his own house full of bounding, joy filled, energetic kids....being who they need after a shift filled with loss.

Buddy did die. We made the decision to put him to sleep as he struggled to breathe and the seizing of his muscles grew worse. His whole body was twitching and enduring spasm after spasm as he lay there growing weaker and weaker.

It did make for some life lessons. As the children grew angry and wanted to know the why's after so much prayer had gone into it, and the unfairness of it all surfaced, it opened the door to minister to their hurting hearts. As homeschooling families all over the region suffered from this huge unforeseen spiritual attack I told them that we were only wounded in a minor way. The family that lost their 2 1/2 year old would do anything to have their boy back. I told the story of spiritual warfare and said, "They lost their youngest child....Garrett's age....yet they still have their dog. Now you tell me what they would give to have their baby boy back and their dog gone. They would give their very lives to have their son back with them. They would willingly kill their dog if it meant having their baby back. Never get focused on your own problems because in a life very near you there are battles being waged and hurt so deep that it makes our's dull in comparison. The moment you become self focused is the moment you render yourself incapable of helping others. Use your hurt to understand their's and tell of God's goodness. You do indeed hurt and are sad but we are sitting here with every one of our children....and every one of your brothers and sisters.....and our world remains relatively the same. Every person in this house is still here. So, instead of grieving our loss, we need to focus on what we have been given and what we still have that we take so easily for granted. Sing in the midst of your hurt and praise Him even when you do not understand and you think life is unfair. There will be so very much you do not understand in life but it is imperative that you keep singing and that you still look to Him for your peace and comfort and guidance. Do not ever stray from Him even in your anger. Always look for the blessings around you. Praise Him for what you do have. There is plenty." And so I asked them of a fitting praise song and one by one that each requested one of their favorites. Our drive home was spent singing praises and offering up thanks to a loving and merciful heavenly Father that we sometimes do not understand but continue to praise in the midst of it. What better life lessons than those.