Letting Go

Virginia passed away this morning at sunrise. She died in my dad's arms. My mom and I had fought for so long to keep her healthy. My mom would make her food from scratch. I was always coming up with supplements and therapies. She had struggled all her life and was the strongest, most dignified creature I have ever met. I think it was my inability to let her go that kept her going too long. I think it's why she couldn't die in front of me.

My parents found Virginia on the side of a back road in peanut country, Virginia. She was a tiny puppy who smelled of pig poop. She was literally starving. Her skeleton exposed and her affect slow and dull. My parents stopped a home nearby, but the occupant said,"Oh, they're always dumping animals around here at the trash ." Apparently when the local people wanted to get rid of there pets, they dumped them with the garbage.

Virginia was so concerned with eating that she would pee when presented with food. This was my first introduction to her. I put her on my lap and reached to give her a treat and was christened. My mom worked tirelessly with her to get over her food obsession, which she never fully got over. Being that she looked like a black beagle, it was also likely genetic.

She was a good dog. The kind you don't have to train. She could be walked of leash on trails and she would always look back to you to see what you wanted. She would go relieve herself discreetly in the bushes. And she would always alert us to any new person or animal with her soulfull bay.

She developed an autoimmune disease that caused the pads of her paws to come off and she later suffered from recurrent liposarcoma. I believe that the cancer was what is referred to as injection site sarcoma, which is more common in cats. It is triggered by injections being given in the same spot along with a hyperactive immune system. (This is why vets now vary the injection site visit to visit.)

Everything that hit her, Virginia would fight off. Nothing could break her. This went on for years, but then the last few days she began getting very weak. She ate very little and rarely got up.

Yesterday I felt her distancing herself from me, like she wanted space. This morning I felt her shame that she had soiled the carpet. Until the very end she insisted on going outside, even when it was difficult to walk and it was raining.

I swear today that I could see her running, in that funny way she would do when she was going as fast as she could, with her tail curled under and her big hound dog ears flopping. I know she is free now.

And so today I am letting go. I am letting go of my attachment to Virginia's body, that could no longer serve her. In doing so I am pulling closer to who she really is, the half-wild, proud hound who is forever free.

I am also letting go a little more of my pettiness. As often happens when you see someone die, all of the stupid judgements and concerns seem ridiculous. I am letting go of people (myself included) not behaving the way they should, or things not working out the way they ought to. I am letting go of what no longer serves me, as Virginia did today.

"Near this Spot are deposited the Remains of one who possessed Beauty without Vanity, Strength without Insolence, Courage without Ferosity, and all the virtues of Man without his Vices. This praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery if inscribed over human Ashes, is but a just tribute to the Memory of. . . a dog." ~Lord Byron