Heartbreak at the Widder Curry’s Home

By Judi Curry

Ten years ago a dog washed up on the beach at Rosarito and was taken to the Baja Dog Sanctuary .  He had the stinger of a sting ray stuck in his head, and he was bedraggled from his swim to shore from the boat that he must have fallen off.

There was no doubt that he was a thoroughbred Golden Retriever, and I heard about him through Trish Penneck, the physical therapist I was using for my Golden Retriever “Buddy,” that was suffering from hip displasia.

Almost immediately after Trish told me about this water-logged dog, I contacted the rescue organization and we planned a meeting so we could meet each other. I took a few of my friends with me to meet this dog in Poway, and it was love at first sight.

I knew that Buddy was not going to make it – Trish kept him alive far beyond what the veterinarian said he would live, and the thought of not having a dog to love was more than I could stand. I had recently lost my husband, and the grief was still sharp.

He jumped into the back seat of the car and a marvelous journey occurred as we drove home.  I had already picked out a name for him – “Shadow” — because Buddy was my husband’s dog, and he shadowed Bob everywhere.  I once said that if I ever had a dog of my own I wanted him to “shadow” me the way Buddy shadowed Bob, and so I got my wish.

When we arrived home Shadow went to meet Buddy and they became friends immediately.  I really think that Shadow helped Buddy live a few extra months.  And then, when it was time for Buddy to leave this world, several of us gathered on the patio, Shadow included, while the vet administered the fatal dose to Buddy.  When Buddy laid down to meet the vet, he had his favorite toy in his mouth, and as he was passing onto the Rainbow Bridge the toy slipped out of his mouth. Shadow got up, went to Buddy, and placed the toy back into his mouth. There wasn’t anyone present that didn’t have tears running down their cheeks, including the experienced veterinarian.

Shadow has always hated the pool.  He would go in when he was a puppy because I was in the pool, but as he aged he stayed as far away from it as possible.  As I thought he was developing a hip problem, I thought about calling Trish to work with him, but I knew it would cause more anguish than aid, so I didn’t do so.  It was just as well, because the x-rays he had yesterday did not show a hip problem.

Why did I take him to have Xrays, you might ask?  Because for the past few weeks he seemed rather lethargic; he even refused to go on his walk, which he loved, with his dog walker a few days ago.  At her insistence, and her husband that works for my vet, we managed to get Shadow an appointment in just a few days. And that horrible day was yesterday.

I was totally unprepared for the diagnosis I received – Shadow has a very large mass on his spleen that in all probability is cancer. This is very typical of Golden Retrievers the vet told me.  Plus, it seems that his red blood count is very low, because he is, in all probability, bleeding from the spleen into his stomach, and although surgery and blood transfusions are possible, the success rate is not very good, and many dogs that have the surgery pass within 2-3 weeks of the surgery.

When I said that I really didn’t want to have him go through the surgery only to suffer and not survive, she suggested that I take him home, feed him anything and everything that he likes, and think about home euthanasia.  She said that she didn’t think that he had many days left.

I can’t believe it.  He has been my heart and soul for so long.  I certainly don’t want him to suffer, but I don’t see him experiencing any pain.  He is such a loving dog; loves all other animals, including the tortoise I rescued; the guinea pigs that used to live here; the other dogs in the neighborhood, etc.  He plays so well with his “cousins”; he always shares his toys, and food, with others around him.  He smiles when he is happy; he talks to us; he listens and obeys – when he wants to – and is one of the most stubborn animals I have ever seen when he wants it his way.

My grandchildren – and great-grandchildren – always include him in their messages to me; they send him letters; when young they used to “ride on his back.” My foreign language students always write and ask me how he is doing.   I just cannot imagine my life without him.  I don’t want to imagine my life without him.  Sure, I can get another dog – there are many up for adoption – but Shadow was my first dog all to my own.  He knows what I want and has always been able to give me the happiness I felt I was missing.  We are as close to being a “couple” as it is possible.

As I look over my chair and see his body moving up and down with his steady breathing, I am hoping that the vet was wrong; that there was a smudge on the x-ray machine and that he is really going to be ok.  I am hoping that we will be together for many years to come, because when he does pass, part of my world will pass too.  A world that I cannot imagine without my Shadow.