Isis was my companion, my confidante, my shadow and my friend. On Sunday, August 10th, 2003, she was suddenly ripped away from me.
She had just begun medicine on that Saturday for a UTI and was acting like her usual spunky, nutty self. She always had a smile on her face and loved always being on the go. I let her out at 1am to do her duty and she was full of hugs and kisses…..but at 7:20 I heard her bump into the wall and I jumped out of bed and ran down the hall. She was lying on the floor in the living room, her eyes flat and dull, barely looking at me. The tears started rolling down my face as I rushed to pull my husband out of bed, telling him something was very wrong.
Five minutes later, he was rushing her to the animal emergency clinic. Once he was there, he was made to wait because there was only one doctor on duty and she was swamped. At one point, my husband was lying on the floor with Isis, her head in his lap as he was
fighting back his own tears.
The doctor finally emerged from another room, took one look at the two of them and started everyone moving. Technicians ran out and placed Isis very carefully on a stretcher and began and IV
while taking stomach x-rays.
I was at home, the tears unable to stop. I had had a bad feeling the night before that something terrible was going to happen Sunday, and it was coming true. My four year old son kept hugging me and rubbing my back, saying “It’s okay, Mom. You’re okay. I’ll give you a big hug so
you don’t have to cry.”
The x-rays held the worst truth for us. Isis was bleeding internally from the abdomen. There was so mucb blood that the vet couldn’t tell what the problem truly was. She was very kind and compassionate, quietly telling my husband that this was the end for Isis. If the anesthesia didn’t kill her, the bleeding would. My husband called me, choking on his tears, and for him I was quiet and serene, knowing that he had to watch her die. I hung up the phone feeling numb and empty…and then the sobs hit me so hard I was shaking. Our Akita, Isis’s companion for 8 years, sat in front of me while I sobbed, his head in my lap.
And then it was over. All in a matter of two hours.
My loving, active, crazy girl was gone and I hadn’t a chance to say good bye. I knew it couldn’t be true…or could it?
Later that afternoon, while trying to keep my voice steady, I spoke to the kind vet who had tended to Isis. She told me that there had been a tumor on Isis’ spleen, and that the tumor had bursts, rupturing the spleen. It was sudden, quick and deadly. The vet continued to tell me that there was no way to know as since Isis had been the mark of health since day one. She told me that there was nothing we could have done differently, and that most importantly,
she was in no pain at the end.
I’ve spent three days crying now and even though the bouts are farther and fewer between, the tears are still unstoppable. I hear Isis every where I turn, I still see her sitting next to me. Nighttime is the worst..every night for eight years — other than the four nights I was in the hospital giving birth to my children– she came to bed with me, snuggling close and giving me kisses and her brand of hugs. It is so quiet now, painfully so, that some hours I can’t believe
how devastated I feel.
Hiromasa, our Akita, is a loving dog, but the opposite of Isis. As much as I love him, he will never be my precious Isis.
But he needs me, and I need him.
So for those of you who are grieving over the loss of your pet, just know that there is always someone, somewhere, shedding tears
at the same time.
I will always remember Isis. My biggest condolence is that when it comes my time to leave this earth, Isis and I will be together again. Until then, we’ll both be waiting to hug each other.
With Love, to Isis
| Jennifer Bowers |