From the moment Haley stormed into our lives, she was the most wonderful thorn in my side that ever existed. She was tough and didn’t take anything off of anyone. As a puppy she pulled on the ears of her hound mix puppy “sibling”, hanging on until Sasha cried out and she (Haley) was made to release the other dog. As an adult, she kept all puppies coming into the house in line, exerting her dominance with a nose bite, an ugly look, or a stare that had dogs several times her size creeping off to a corner to stay out of Haley’s way.
The younger members of my current pack (Buddy, Eevee, and Sahara) never challenged her. If Haley wanted their sleeping place, all she did was stare at them until they moved, or, in other cases, she just walked up to them expecting them to move and they did. Every. Single. Time. Every dog that Haley encountered respected and obeyed her, even if it was a dog walking down the street that stopped by to greet her with a sniff. Haley was brave, confident, and stubborn and I feel that’s what got her so far in life.
The only thing Haley couldn’t beat was her allergies (which now I suspect was more than just allergies but a full-blown autoimmune disorder). Every year, it took everything for us and the vet to do to keep her alive. Every year I’d look at her red skin, watch her try to get comfortable, pump her full of allergy medicine or steroids and pray that she’d be allowed to stay with me for one more year.
She turned twelve back in February. I wanted her to see her thirteenth birthday. I wanted her to live forever. Sy and I even joked that she’d outlive us; that she was too ornery to succumb to death. That she would tell death when she was ready to go! I think we told ourselves that so that we didn’t have to face the truth: One day we’d be without our beloved Haley.
That day came too soon. Her health took a turn for the worse and not even steroids worked. Her body had turned against her and she was in pain despite pretending that everything was okay. The vet told me that we could throw money, drugs, and surgeries at the illnesses; that we could try to fight this, but there was no guarantee that she would live a quality of life. In fact her quality of life was already diminished. The nicest thing to do was to put her to sleep. So we did the next day.
I had carried her into that office many times in the past for vaccinations and when she was sick. When I walked into that room I lost it because I knew that I wouldn’t be leaving with her. Haley, on the other hand, was perfectly content in my arms and didn’t seem disturbed. She knew the vet’s office and the people. They were her loyal subjects. We all were her loyal subjects.
She yelped when they gave her the first shot. Her illnesses had made her skin impenetrable to needles and they had to force the needle to get through her thick skin. She stumbled a little and then fell asleep. A few moments later my baby dog, my thorn in my side, my Haley Baley, my Sui Tan Sour Haley’s Comet (that would have been her show name if she’d been a show dog) was gone. What was left was the little vessel that held her large personality. How could something so small hold such a large part of my life? My mom, Sy, and I held each other and cried while the vet and the assistant, tears in their eyes, quietly left. My mom left after a few moments. Sy stood aside as I put me head against Haley’s forehead and quietly talked to her, finishing with a boop on the nose–something she would have never tolerated from a peon like me when she was alive. Then we left her.
Wait no! We didn’t leave her. We left her body. She’s still in our hearts and always will be.
On Monday (July 4th) I finally had Haley’s ashes in my possession. The beautiful box her ashes are in are in a velvet-type bag, accompanied with a death certificate as well as literature on grief following a pet’s death. I haven’t read the pamphlet. I might read it one day or I might not. I haven’t decided where I’m going to put the ashes yet, so everything is just sitting on a table waiting for a place.
This entry was so difficult to write. I cried so much. I miss that little dog. Part of me believes that Haley only held out all of these years because I needed her. With her health and basically being allergic to life, she shouldn’t have seen her 7th birthday let alone 12th (she almost died when she was 6 years old due to allergy problems). I don’t know if that’s true or not. All I know is she outlived the life expectancy for a dog who was essentially allergic everything. I am grateful for the extra time I had with her.
Until next time, give your loved ones an extra lick and a boop on the nose.
Four-Legged Shadows 