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Eulogy For A Big Red Mutt

Michelle Bearden photo

Foxy enjoying a cool day in Chandler, N.C.

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By MICHELLE BEARDEN | The Tampa Tribune

Published: November 30, 2007

"If there are no dogs in heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went."

— Will Rogers 1987-1935

They say you will know.

You will know when it's time to let go. When it's time to quit hanging on, just because you can't imagine life without your beloved companion by your side.

Foxy tried to tell me she was ready. She didn't want to eat anymore, not even her favorite chunks of white cheddar cheese or Frosty Paws treat. Going outside to the bathroom was a monumental effort. When I ran the vacuum cleaner, a declared enemy, she didn't even raise her head.

I didn't listen for a day or so because I believe in miracles.

"You will get better," I whispered into her oversized ear. "Because I can't go on without you."

But I will have to learn how.

On Nov. 20, after a nine-month battle with lymphoma, Foxy Golly Bearden went from this world to the next, with the gentle assistance of her veterinarian.

I should only have such a peaceful passing. We carried her weak body outside and gently placed her on her favorite bed, under a canopy of oak trees surrounded by lit candles. The hauntingly beautiful strains of Pachelbel's Canon in D minor played on outdoor speakers.

She was tired and sick. It was time to go. And it was the hardest thing I've ever done.

First the sedative to relax her. I stroked her thick red coat and remembered how many times I'd buried my face in it. I didn't want to cry in front of her.

"You've been such a good friend. My best friend ever," I told her, trying to keep it together. Dr. Stu, my angel, knelt on the ground with us, telling a comforting story of his own dog's final days. He made me smile and for a minute, forget my own horrific pain.

Then he asked me: Are you ready?

I hugged her again, shut my eyes and tried to imprint this memory of her, still breathing and warm and still mine. Then I told her I loved her one last time.

I nodded. I watched the liquid ease into her vein. And then she was gone.

Foxy had many friends. They came by all night long, bearing cards and flowers for her and chocolate for me. For two hours, she lay under the canopy, finally at peace. I didn't want to give her up, not just yet. I told endless stories about a big red mutt who defined my life in so many ways. They listened patiently.

Finally someone said, "It's time. Let her go." My friend Ed, who spent his days with her while I worked and commissioned her his first officer whenever he flew in his Cessna, carried away her limp body to the pet crematory service's transport car. He couldn't talk.

Now I had to decide about an urn. I was numb, unable to make any cogent decisions at this point.

Missing Her

It is the day after, when all I have left is a silent house, that proves the most difficult. The Fed-Ex man knocks on the door, and no barking dog greets him. I don't hear toenails clicking on my Pergo floors. I find her squeaky squirrel toy in plain sight in the living room. Why didn't I put that away the night before?

Friends tell me it gets better, and I have to believe them. I stay up all night at the computer, seeking comfort from my friends in the Pet Cancer Support Group on the Delphi Forums. It has been a bad week. We've lost three dogs in our online group.

We type and we cry and we don't feel so alone.

I collect a box full of photos and mementos and give them to my brother-in-law, the family genius when it comes to creating cyber memorials. This will help recall the good times and maybe erase thoughts of those final wrenching days when I had to play God and make The Decision.

For now, I will remember a dog who never doubted me, who trusted me and who was always ready for the next adventure.

Good Deeds, Good Dog

She was a great American canine, despite her lack of papers or proper breeding. Until cancer got in the way of her volunteer work, she was a therapy dog for Project P.U.P.

She never got that mouse that taunted her from a hiding space in Ed's laundry room. But she was always welcome to sleep on my bed, spread out on my leather couch, eat from my plate and join the festivities at every party I hosted. Mi casa, Foxy's casa.

Cheerful, loyal, a good listener and sweet-natured to the end. I had almost 11 good years with a good dog. That is a gift that death can't take away. If love could have kept you alive, I read somewhere, you would have lived forever.

I hope what they say is true, that there's a Rainbow Bridge where all our pets are happy and healthy and waiting for us until it's our time to leave this Earth. I shut my eyes and see her bounding toward me. I hope I have the good sense to bring her a cup of Frosty Paws.

View Foxy's online tribute at tierraverdeisland.com, then click on her icon. Michelle Bearden can be reached at mbearden@tampatrib.com or at (813) 259-7613.

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