Clever Magazine, Fall '08 " Misty " (www.clevermag.com)

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Misty

by Angela Sirico

Angela is the mother of four children and has four grandchildren. At the present time she is also “mom” to a yellow lab retriever named Leo.

According to Angela: As an adult, I have had the joy of raising two puppies -- the challenge of Misty, and the trials and tribulations of opening our home to a rambunctious three year old lab named Leo. The story of “Misty” was born out of a deep sorrow I experienced after her passing. I always regretted not being able to giver her more than three and a half years of a loving environment – that unfortunately she had never known.

It was a cool day in October when I first laid eyes on Misty. I must admit that I was hesitant to open my home to this dog having always been a bit intimidated by German Shepherds, and not knowing a thing about the history of this disinterested, aloof, malnourished animal. Nevertheless, I was willing to give it my best shot.

It all began with a phone call from my daughter who, while walking her own dog on a beautiful fall night, found this unkempt dog wandering around her neighborhood. After bringing her dog back to the house, she went back to the stray, bringing with her a pocket full of dog biscuits. She cautiously approached this rather fierce looking dog, luring her with a biscuit, which the dog very gently accepted. The dog then followed my daughter up the road to her home and ate more biscuits and lapped up a huge bowl of water. It was love at first sight. She could not turn her back on this stinky, filthy dog that stood before her with matted down fur wearing nothing but a broken, rusty metal chain around her neck, no tags, and it seemed that she was in heat.

My daughter then called my youngest son who dropped everything to come up and help. Together they coaxed the dog into my son’s jeep where she spent the night curled up on a blanket. The next morning as she emerged from the jeep a cold misty rain filled the air. Her “odor” was overwhelming, but they couldn’t help loving this gentle dog that was already so dependent on them. It was then that they named her “Misty”.

Upon taking Misty to the nearest shelter, they were told that if no one claimed her, she probably didn’t stand a good chance at being adopted since she was “older”, and that her days at the shelter would be numbered. After hearing that, there was no way they could leave Misty there. A woman at the shelter hooked them up with an animal hospital where Misty was spayed, given vaccines, treated for her severe ear infections and most importantly, given a good bath! Misty remained there for over a week and friends and coworkers made donations to help with the escalating hospital charges. They had no idea what they were going to do with Misty, they only know that they had to keep her alive. As the days passed, we all grew attached to Misty, but I was still hesitant about taking on the responsibility of caring for a second dog. My son, who at the time was looking for his own place, decided to adopt Misty when he moved out.

And so we began to nurture this dog. The first few weeks were truly hell since Misty developed a severe case of diahrea that turned out to be a case of worms. The veterinarian told us that if we could hang in there for two weeks, she would be okay. Once that cleared up, we realized that Misty wasn’t housebroken and probably not even house kept.

Through all this, however, Misty was so appealing that I could not send her away. As each day passed she not only proved to be a very obedient dog but also showed no signs of aggression or hostility towards my Labrador Retriever. They bonded almost immediately. We patiently and lovingly took care of her and slowly she adapted to the comfort of our home environment. The housebreaking was successful and all was going well.

Upon examining her at her annual check up a year or so later, Misty was found to have some cancerous growths, which had to be surgically removed. The surgery was successful—Misty once again beat the odds. By this time my son had moved into his apartment, but I decided Misty would be better off remaining in her now-familiar environment. The bonding had taken place an I (we) had to give her all the TLC she had missed in her earlier years. We came to trust each other (when Misty first came to us she would almost cringe with fear if someone would attempt to pet her, now she welcomed a loving hand or a generous hug).

I remember Misty as always compliant, always obedient; never assuming that she was worthy of any kindness; she always hovered behind a wall or waited for my lab, Casey, to take a treat before she would come forward to accept hers. She was protective—always close to the front door, guarding her home and the family within. She loved to lie in front of the glass storm door and watch the street which extended with several blocks in view.

She was majestic in motion when playing fetch with my son. She so loved to play outdoors and to ride in the pick up truck with him. She was patient, always sitting to tell us that she wanted to be let out into the backyard and waiting in front of the door to be let in. She was beautiful as only a German Shepard comes—a shiny soft furry coat colored in hues of gray and tan. Her eyes full of tenderness and appreciation. We understood each other this dog and I—both of use being senior citizens, knowing full well that life can be shortened without warning. And so it was with Misty. She had now become a familiar sight in our home. I remember her curling up in her favorite spot next to the curio cabinet in the living room when it was time to call it a day.

Unfortunately, she would soon become very ill. It started with her vomiting now and then. We never thought it was serious, maybe just something she ate outside, the way dogs often do. But the vomiting became worse, and it was apparent she was losing weight. She was hospitalized for a few days after it was discovered that she was terminally ill with chronic kidney failure. We were told there was no hope for recovery but that the symptoms could be alleviated by medications and special food. We took her home for a few days encouraged by the fact that she was eating her prescribed diet.

Our optimism was clouded by the return of the symptoms. She gradually weakened and could hardly stand up. On the last day she was unwilling to take any food. We spent the hours taking turns being close to her, petting her soft head and caressing her velvety ears. Her eyes became hauntingly distant as if she knew the end was near.

All those who have loved an animal know the unbearable pain of the decision to “put the animal down”. The overwhelming responsibility of having to decide the fate of one so loving and so dependent on your human judgment is agonizing. Knowing in our mind that the suffering must end, but unwilling to accept the imminent loss that is thrust upon you so suddenly. The decision is made; the suffering of one being ends, and that of another begins.

And so it was that golden sunny day in April with all the promises of spring surrounding us that Misty’s life was taken. The discarded stray, surrounded by three people who loved her for 3-1/2 years, took her last breath in the comfort of that love.

Rest in peace my good girl. I shall always love you.