The animal shelter in Franklin did a
thorough check of my history as a pet owner after I have filled in the adoption
papers for Aileen. They knew that I had two other dogs and one surviving cat
(after my favorite black cat, Mowgli passed away a year earlier). They also
knew that they were delinquent in their shots and I would have to have all of
their inoculations current in order to proceed with the adoption.
Although Aileen was doing
much better and had been de-liced and flea bathed, she still limped badly and
they though she might had been hit by a car since her right ear tilted in a
funny way and her right eye seemed unresponsive. I knew nobody else was going
to adopt her but still, the thought of her being put to sleep after what she
had been through seemed senseless and unnecessary. I put a call out to Todd, my
cohort in Aileen’s rescue. Todd, a dour man who, to this day, I don’t think
I’ve had ever seen smile (if you look up dour in the dictionary I’m sure his
picture would be there), and I left a message about my travails with the animal
shelter. When he called back we made a deal. He would fill out the paperwork
and pay for the adoption fees, but I would keep her at my house in Thompson’s
Station. I knew my wife, Donna, would be too happy about it, but what else
could I do? I told her I would try and find a home for Aileen but in my heart I
knew she would be spending her final days in the Haymer household.
At this time, Jonathan,
my oldest son, was preparing to leave for China. He had been granted a full
scholarship to study in Hangzhou at the Confucius Institute and was scheduled
to leave in September, in two months time. Jonathan was ecstatic about being
selected (only four students had that honor at MTSU), and we were all helping
him get ready for his trip with passports, shots, luggage, you know, the usual.
He was going to be gone for a year and my heart was sinking, but I knew it was
going to be a great opportunity for him. In a way it was payback. I had married
Donna in 1990 and taken her away from her mum and dad and now it was my turn to
fell the sense of estrangement. Thank God for things like FaceTime and WeChat.
At least I would be able to see him as well as hearing his voice.
Ashley had agreed to lend
me the cage and I placed it in the back of the house behind the mudroom where I
could keep an eye on her. It was hot that summer so I kept an electric fan
propped up beside her and filled a bucket with plenty of cool water. She wasn’t
eating too well, so I would mix in some chicken and turkey breast along with
her dog food. It seemed to have done the trick. I then erected a makeshift
fence with some old chicken wire I had from before and bought some more metal
fence posts so she could have an enclosed area. The first week or so she would
goosestep nervously around the small area, but after a while she seemed to
settle down. I felt bad about keeping her outside, especially at night, but the
cage was left open and had plenty of soft blankets and the fan, which I kept running
24/7.
About a week and a half
later, we had given Aileen a cool shampooing outside in her fenced area
by the spigot in back and I cut all of the tightly knit clumps of hair matted
together with who knows what in the downstairs bathroom. She was more agreeable
to it than I had imagined she would be, but I think she trusted me as much as
she could trust any human. I could tell she had been abused and after living in
the wilds for so long I knew it would take the patience of a saint to bring her
around.
The night of
June, 26th, Aileen was in bad shape. I thought, if she can make it
through until morning it would be a miracle. I stayed up until almost three in
the morning with her, playing my acoustic guitar in the adjoining room, and
watching Under the Dome, a television adaptation of a book by Stephen King that
was featured on demand. When she had settled a bit I finally went to bed and
woke up about two hours later to check to see if she was all right. She was in
a bad way. I had to wait until seven am to call Dr. Woody at Animal Health
Center, and they told me the first available appointment was at three-thirty. I
couldn’t wait that long—I had to bring her in. I took her outside and I could
see something moving under her thick coat near her right shoulder where there
was a growth of some kind. Maggots—tons of them had burrowed their way into her
skin and were sucking her dry. No wonder she was so dissipated and struggling
to survive. She was at her eleven and a half hour and fading fast. Ashley had
come over to help me remove the parasites with a toothbrush and tweezers, and I
think we picked out over a hundred of the little beasts. I even tried apple
cider vinegar and Cutter bug spray (which worked better than the vinegar and
didn’t make here whimper). I swore to myself if she made it through this ordeal
she would stay in the mudroom from then on.
Dr. Woody gave
her some Capstar, a medication that
kills the fuckers and is taken in pill form. It had done the trick and in two
days time she was maggot free. As the summer turned into autumn, Aileen was not
really improving. She was totally incontinent and every morning I awoke to the
familiar smell of feces and urine. At least that room was closed off from the
rest of the house.
By the end of
November I knew things were going downhill rapidly for the poor old girl. She
would whimper in the night and sometimes I would have to stay up all night by
her side trying to comfort her. We took her back to Dr. Woody’s and he
prescribed some medication for pain and something the help with her back legs
which were practically paralyzed. I knew she wouldn’t last too much longer, but
I didn’t want to give up. I figured Aileen was about twelve or thirteen, but it
was really hard to determine since she was in such terrible shape. Usually you
can judge by the shape their teeth are in, but she had been on survival mode
for so long and could have been eating anything to stay alive and some of it
would be pretty hard on the teeth.
Was this the
day? It is Thursday December 5, 2013 and I was most likely going to have poor
Aileen euthanized. She couldn’t walk anymore and cried all night (the nights
were always worse). I knew the pain killers and anti-inflammatory meds were not
really helping anymore (the night before I had give her three times the normal
dose and still she cried out). It was
hard, but I had to admit that it was time. I had grown quite attached to her
and I kept trying to stall the inevitable, but I reminded myself that she was
not going to get any better.
It was 7:40 am
and I was waiting for a call back from Animal Health Center. Maybe I’ll lose my
keys like I did when Ginger had to be put to a dreamless sleep. I did that the
other day when I thought it was time...but I found them. They were in the
pocket of my robe. I still thought it was a sign and decided not to take her in
to end her earthly struggles. I wish she could talk and tell me what she wanted
me to do. I had to read it in her eyes and her whining groans. Now she was
calm, but the mornings are always better for her. She still dragged her
flailing back legs along and pulled herself in concentric circles. It was truly
pathetic.
I removed one
of the back seats from the Toyota Sienna and placed her gently on a blanket and
closed the sliding door. She seemed to sense what was going on, but was still
in a state of peace or calm. When I arrived at the vet’s they directed me into
an examination room and they helped me place her on the metallic table. They
gave me a few minutes with her to say my goodbyes. I looked around at the room
with the borders with cats and dogs in play and I hoped that Aileen had
experienced some joy in her life. At least the last six months, although
painful for her, had been in a home with people who loved her and took good
care of her. I did all that I could do and now it was in the hands of the big
Dog in the sky. Dr. Woody came back with the two injections. The first was a
sedative to relax her and the second, the more ominous one, would be the one to
send her on her way. He injected the first shot and her breathing became
shallow and she seemed to let go of her pain. I stroked her bent little ear and
told her I loved her and how much I was going to miss her. Then came the second
shot and at ten minutes after ten she slowly closed her eyes and was gone.
Afterwards they
wrapped her in a white sheet and helped me load her body back into the can. I
stopped a t a Home Depot on the way home and bought some peat moss and sand.
Alone in the backyard pet cemetery, I dug a large hole next to Bailey’s grave
and placed her there with her nose pointing east and then said a prayer as I
shoveled the dirt and then built up a mound of peat moss and sand. It looked
like a dome. I surrounded the grave with rocks and put the largest one where
her head was. I will never forget her.
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