Layla

Waiting for Vets office to open. I hoped this was not my last pic of Layla, then dismissed the thought as morbid and overly dramatic.

On December 18 I took our dog Layla to the Veterinarian by myself because she had been listless and unusually lethargic for 24 hours. Husband could not go because he'd already used his sick days from work. My daughter-in-law offered, but that would also mean bringing a newborn and an active three year old.

Our crazy dog eats sticks, lizards, legos and matchbox car tires, so we figured something she ate was making her sick. After a thorough exam and a million questions the vet said that she had "a traumatic insult to her liver." I stood next to her on the exam table and the manner and sadness of the young nurse and the doctor told me more than the medical words could.

In the truck I had noticed that the whites of her eyes were very yellow and outside the office door she stumbled and leaned against me and did not bark at the other dog waiting near by. Definitely not a normal Layla.

The vet kindly said, "I am afraid there is no good end to this situation with your little one." He believed she had eaten something that damaged her liver irreparably. I still have no clue what hurt her. She has no access to our pool chemicals, but our house has a forest behind it that sometimes send us snakes, armadillos, coyotes and any assortment of critters that could have brought poison into our yard.

She was suffering. I was sobbing by now and I asked if he was suggesting we put her to sleep and he said he was afraid so. I whispered "ok."

The doctor and nurse left me alone with Layla for a while then showed me a paper to sign giving my consent. They left again so I could say good bye. I removed her red collar with the little pink bone shaped dog tag. I told her she was a good dog.

The nurse returned and gently picked up our Layla and pointed her head towards me and softly said, "Say bye bye to mama." My heart broke and I held her face and put my forehead on her forehead and said, "Bye bye baby girl."

They took her away and I sat in the exam room alone trying to fathom what had just happened. I was going to have to walk back to my truck with just her leash and collar. How could this be happening? The nurse came again and said she would meet me at the reception desk whenever I was ready. Thankfully they have two reception areas so I did not have to walk back into a waiting room full of people and pets.

I cried all the way home and am writing this at 5:30am, unable to sleep.

I came home to a too-empty and too-quiet house. But glad to be alone. I let my tears flow. I watched a romantic movie and ate the afternoon away. Could not stop crying as I tried to imagine life without our bratty Layla.

She drove me crazy and made me angry over and over again. Keeping her safe was nearly a full-time job for me. "Hold Layla, the front door is open!" "Hold Layla, the baby is on the floor." "Hold Layla, someone is at the door!" 

Buddies

I could not have company because she insisted on constant barking and jumping on people. Could not trust her alone with grandson because he loved to get her excited and then she would knock him over in her enthusiasm.

She drove me crazy and made me angry, but she also helped us through a tough time in our family. When we got her 6 years ago we'd just been let go from our ministry job and most of our friends were moving away and we no longer had a home church. Husband and I talked about how her silly antics were sometimes the only bright spot in our days.

She inspired me to take a job as a freelance writer for a pet supply company. I wrote their website content and they loved my idea to add a weekly column about "Life With Layla." She gave me plenty to write about and my own blog, "Recovering Church Lady" was often full of Layla stories.

As wild and noisy as she was, she was also a great cuddler. Her head was usually on my lap as I did my freelance writing jobs and as I wrote my book. Sometimes when she felt I had been writing long enough, her paw would inch onto the keyboard to get my attention.

Layla was very destructive the first few years and our couch pillows and cloth napkins disappeared. Even at 6 years old she loved to find a toy my grandson left out and she would trot happily with it to her crate to destroy it.

Tornado warning time in bathroom.

She was a good watchdog that I was thankful for when home alone. More than a few salesmen backed away from our front door when she barked her head off at them. At the same time, I hated that no one could enter our home quietly and peacefully.

A few weeks ago I came home from work depressed, tired and tearful after a rough day. I closed my bedroom door because I needed to be alone and she came into the room with me. I sat on my bed and cried and she jumped on the bed and slowly army crawled to my side and gently put her paw on my arm and whined. It was so comforting that I cried even more. Coincidence or not, she made me feel better.

Is there anything like a dog's greeting when you've been away? Or even just asleep for the night? With the kids and grandkids living here now, she was thrilled with all the action and coming and going. She insisted on greeting every single person in the family when they'd been out for the day. If she'd already greeted my son, she would run around the house until she found my daughter-in-law to be sure she'd been welcomed home too.

It is 6:30am now, one week before Christmas and my second large cup of coffee is gone. The house is silent and I am staring at our pretty Christmas tree. Layla's favorite Kong toy is on the floor next to my grandson's Lego bucket. My heart is heavy and all I want right now is to stroke those velvety ears again. I want to hear the jingle of her dog tags and I want to trip over her while trying to make dinner.

But this has been helpful to write my heart out. Thank you for listening.

Susie