6 years ago today, Tom and I picked up our sweet Abbie at the Old Navy Outlet in Kittery. She was four at the time and had been given up by her family because their autistic child was not very nice to Abbie. We adopted her through
BONES, which is also where we adopted Lacey. If you want to get a beagle, please consider adopting, and using this wonderful group.
Interestingly, Abbie was not on my list of dogs I was interested in when Tom and I started the adoption process. But our adoption counselor asked if we would be interested in a "foster-to-adopt" dog, which simply means the dog is not in a foster home, so they give you a two-week trial period since they don't know much about the dog.
When Abbie jumped out of the transporter's car, I exclaimed, "She's so little!" I learned that she had pretty much slept the entire trip, even though she'd been on the road for 5 hours and had been moved from car to car each hour. I tried putting her in the backseat of Tom's car, but she really wanted to be on my lap, which of course I allowed, and she promptly curled up and went to sleep.
She slept for nearly 48 hours, most likely due to the stress of being in a kennel for a month before we adopted her, and from the long transport. We were told it could take her a few weeks or even months to really get used to us and start acting like herself.
It was true! She started to come out of her shell after a couple of weeks, and we learned that she LOVED taking walks, pretty much more than anything else in the world. She lived for her twice daily walks, and she never wanted to take that last turn toward home. Abbie was quite the social butterfly and was sure everyone was her biggest fan, so when we saw people on walks, even if they were half a block away, she would just wait for them to come meet her.
She also loved us. An insane amount. The feeling was mutual. If we were home, she was following us around, laying on our laps, sitting on our feet, watching us make dinner, laying on the bathmat while we showered, and just generally making sure we were never too far away.
I never met a dog that REQUIRED so much petting. If you pet her for a half hour straight and stopped, she'd give you a look like, "You don't think you're done, do you?!" over her shoulder, then slowly thump her tail as if threatening you. If you didn't comply (and that is what Abbie expected!) she would bark at you until you changed your mind.
Abbie was quirky. Because she was my first dog, I went a little overboard buying her toys and treats and beds before she came home. One of the toys was a little stuffed frog that ribbited instead of squeaking. Some friends came over to meet Abbie a few days after we adopted her, and she pounced on the frog out of excitement (God, she loved visitors!). It ribbited, and I have never seen an animal move so fast to get away from something! From that day on, if the frog was around, she would look at it warily and give it a wide berth. We later learned that not only was she afraid of the frog, she was afraid of any toy that squeaked, was hard, or had a face. She also disliked electronics and was a master of NOT getting her photo taken. This is a good example:
The quince was a favorite hangout of Abbie's. She couldn't get enough of the yard on nice days, but when it was hot and she still wanted to be out there, or if we were working in the yard, she would dig a "foxhole" in the dirt and curl up in its coolness. Can you find the beagle? This is where Abbie's ashes will be buried.
Did I mention how weird she was?
Or how much teasing and torture she would put up with for people food or certain treats? I think she was hoping for some pizza crust in this one. I probably could have dressed her up in a full-on outfit, including shoes, and she would just put up with it. She was such a compliant dog, but also extremely willful and independent when she felt like it.
In March 2011, at Abbie's annual well-visit our vet heard a murmur in Abbie's heart, but told us not to worry too much unless she started coughing a lot or seemed lethargic. In May, the coughing began, as well as very un-Abbie-like behavior such as sleeping in and skipping walks, so we took her to a cardiologist (Dr. John MacGregor at
Port City Veterinary Referral Hospital), who did some testing and told us Abbie's left ventricle was enlarged, probably due to
Congestive Heart Failure. She was started on about 6 different meds that each had to be administered 2-3 times a day and we were told she would be on them for the rest of her life, which could be another 6 to 18 months.
Once Abbie was on the meds, within a week or two she was back to her old self and we were elated. We knew what was wrong, we knew it would get worse eventually, and that she would die before she had a chance to get old, but we were ecstatic to have her back to "normal" and we treasured every day with her.
In late October she started going downhill a bit, her heart was racing like crazy and she was constantly winded. We took her back to the cardiologist who called this a "complication" because the size of her heart really had not changed, which pleased him. He added a couple more meds to help, but unfortunately at this point, Abbie was done. I really think she just didn't want to do it anymore. Take all those pills, which had other side effects, feel like crap all the time, etc... She really wasn't eating or going on walks, plus she was very restless at night, and I think Tom and I had a feeling the end was near.
Losing a dog slowly, and knowing you're losing them, doesn't make it any easier. I came downstairs really early on November 10 because I was supposed to be traveling 2 hours away for work. Abbie had slept downstairs the night before (which she rarely did) and when I walked over to her to tell her to have a good day like I always did, her eyes were open and her body was rigid. She was dead.
There is nothing, NOTHING that prepares you for that. NOTHING. My baby. Gone. I think the hardest part for Tom and I (and it continues to be) is the feeling that we should have, could have, done more for her. That we should have noticed the symptoms sooner, that we should have gotten second opinions, that we should have fed her steak and ham and turkey everyday (although, at the end, she wouldn't even eat her coveted hot dogs or deli meat), that we should have let her sleep in the bed with us those last few months, taken her on more walks, longer walks, talked to her more, been home more, gave her more treats, kissed her more often on her soft little head.
I know someday this won't bring me to tears on a daily or weekly or even monthly basis. But I also know I won't ever forget Abbie.
I love you, Pupperdoo.
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