In Memory of…
Sophie was a good dog- a princess if you will. Writing this is a little surreal, as I am halfway across the world in sub-Saharan Africa, and she is now buried in the backyard, next to our dachshund that passed when I was in fourth grade. We knew she had been feeling under the weather for about a month now. We knew it was serious when she stopped rushing to the kitchen when she heard the refrigerator door open- expecting “popsicles” no doubt, or carrots to the lay-person. Then she stopped eating all together, and no coercion or comfort mom and I could provide was sufficient. I left for Africa concerned, but never expected her to pass while I was gone- without having the chance to offer a proper hug and kiss goodbye. Mom grew more concerned, as she was drinking water heavily, but still not eating… she took her to the vet about four days ago, and the vet drew blood, only to report back that her condition was not fatal, and was in fact- treatable. But Sophie’s time was Soph’s time. She continued to not eat, and mom says she lost about 10% of her body weight in the past week or so… poor little thing.
I did not sleep well Sunday night. I went to bed early, as I have been, due to adapting to this crazy time change, and woke up throughout the night. Something was not right- and I could feel it. As I was checking my email earlier this morning, Monday morning in Uganda, I received a message from mom stating that Sophie had a “rough night”, and died after she let herself be held from about 4:30 am to 5:00 am Sunday morning, back at home. After she was held by mom, perhaps saying goodbye and feeling love for the last time, she wanted down from the bed. Mom says that she nuzzled her head under the ruffle of the bed, took three deep breaths (struggling) and did not make any more noise. She had died. Her medication for pancreas and kidney support was due to start today. But it was obviously much more advanced a problem than the vet had detected. But it was her time.
I miss her. I miss knowing that her sweet little presence is keeping mom and Scooby (our other pooch and her “bro”) company at home. It will be most difficult, I believe, when I come home in August and am not greeted by her chubby (“it’s just fur!”, she would insist!) little white fluff at the door, shaking with excitement knowing that “sissy” is home… But in time, I will heal, and so will mom. Sophie had a good, and long life, and will be forever remembered and thought of; she was truly exceptional.
Love you dill:)