All the Nevers

  
“Heaven goes by favor. If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in. ” 

      – Mark Twain

This morning Bella bounded out of her kennel and ran, as she does every morning, for the the front door, eager to take care of her morning business on the front lawn.  I watched her carefully, looking for any signs of pain or weakness but she showed me only her healthy, energetic self.  Once finished she ran to her food bowl and ate in rapid gulps as she always does.  From the laundry room that serves as her kennel she went to the door to our bedroom and laid down, waiting for Sherry to emerge.  So far, business as usual.

When Sherry came out Bella followed her to my office door and Sherry asked, "Do you know where her Baby is?"

Bella has a floppy fabric dog toy that we call her "Baby".  Bella, who loves carrying things around in her mouth (I suppose its part of that retriever instinct) often carries her "Baby" around the house, softly whimpering.

I pointed to it lying on the floor near my desk, "It's there".

Bella scooped it up and followed Sherry to the kitchen.  As she trotted out carrying the Baby, I thought, "She'll never have real babies."

I thought about the other "nevers" in her life.  She never learned to swim.  She never hunted birds.  She never played with dogs other than Buck. There were probably others, but I was overwhelmed with the idea that the end of her life is probably close and, like all of us, there are limits in life that we all must accept...none of us get to do everything and life is all about the decisions and choices we must make that eliminate certain options.  The trick is to go out without any big regrets over the choices we make.

So, as I think about her life I ask myself, "Am I happy with the choices I made for her?  Did I give her the best life I could?  What regrets do I have?"

I don't have answers for these questions.  It strikes me that as our lives wind down, that these same questions will apply to us.  Do we focus on all the nevers (life's regrets) or do we savor the memories we have and celebrate the experiences we chose for ourselves?

I guess this is what life is all about.

Waiting

“Nobody can fully understand the meaning of love unless he’s owned a dog. A dog can show you more honest affection with a flick of his tail than a man can gather through a lifetime of handshakes.”      – Gene Hill

Me, Buck, Bella and Sherry

Dr. Wonders, Bella's vet, told me on Monday that he hoped to get Bella's biopsy results back today.  I've been anxiously awaiting his phone call and, not having heard from him by 4:00PM, I decided to call.  He advised me that they had not received any word yet from the lab and was hopeful that they'd get something back tomorrow.  And so we wait.

Bella enjoying 2010 snow storm

I tried to spend as much time with Bella today and do things that would be fun for her.  So we did two retrieving sessions and took a long walk through the National Forest behind our farm.  She tackled all three outings with her usual gusto.  She's eaten and pooped normally today and appears for all the world to be a healthy, happy 11 year old Golden...nothing would indicate that anything was amiss.

Bella pausing in Chattahoochee National Forest

I examined her throat several times and although it could easily be my imagination, the jelly bean sized lumps seem to have grown.  Dr. Wonders told me that this is entirely possible.  It was not what I wanted to feel and hear.

A Working Dog's Heart

                “Why bother to learn to read when you can smell meat a mile away?”
 
                          ― Mikhail Bulgakov, Heart of a Dog

In the 70's, while living in northern California, I became involved with field trial dogs and over the course of several years came in contact with a number of top professional and amateur dog trainers.  I was introduced to the experience of working with highly bred English Setters and English Pointers that were chosen for their drive, stamina, athletic abilities and their "heart", which is how dog men describe an animal with "no quit" in them.  These dogs would run and hunt until they collapsed, which placed a burden on the handler to recognize when the dog was past a safe limit and to then pick the dog up.  I've ridden and hunted behind some incredible dogs.  I think I can recognize a dog with "heart" when I see it.

Bella impressed me from her early days as one of those dogs.  From a young age she figured out that retrieving things was why she was put on this earth and once we started using a Chuck-It to launch a tennis ball, her life's focus was clear.  She wanted to retrieve and nothing else gave her the pleasure and fulfillment of tracking down a tennis ball in the tall grass on our farm.

Over time she learned to use her incredible nose and the prevailing wind to locate a lost ball and would not quit until she found it.  Of the tens of thousands of retrieves that she has completed I can only remember a handful of lost balls...some of which she'd find days or weeks later.

I watched her learn how to position herself down wind from her target and quarter across the incoming breeze until the "scent cone" hit her, then turn into the scent and follow it.  As time went on she became more and more skilled at this and when conditions were just right she'd use the wind masterfully.

When scenting conditions were not to her advantage, she learned to take guidance from me in the form of hand signals.  When she'd give up looking, she'd stop and look at me, asking for help.  My arm raised straight up meant "go back".  Straight down meant "come towards me". Arm right, meant "go right" and so on.  Eventually it became a simple task to lead her directly to the "lost ball".  When she got close and caught the air born scent, her head and body would snap in the direction of the ball and she'd go straight to it.  It was a joy to watch her work.

Work is what she loves.  In stark contrast, her brother Buck loved hunting for Persimmons and eating deer poop in the pastures.  Bella just wants to work.  She has that great heart we looked for in top bird dogs.  I often wished that she'd had a chance (my fault entirely) to become a bird dog.  I am certain she'd have been a great bird finder.   I believe that she would have pointed birds (not unheard of in Retrievers) and I know she'd have gone to hell and back to retrieve a downed bird.

Dogs have personalities.  Some are goofy, some are nervous, some are happy, some are mean.  Bella is serious.  She wants to work and nothing gives her more pleasure than hunting for rabbits and lizards in Sherry's garden or retrieving things.  If her ball isn't available she'll pick up a rock from our driveway, drop it at my feet and then stare at me until I pick it up and throw it.  Many is the time I've taken her rock, heaved it a long ways into the woods, watch her explode after it and minutes later bring that very rock back to my feet and look at me as if to say, "That was great Dad.  Let's do it again."  Sometimes she'd sneak the rock into the house and I began collecting her "house rocks".

Here's a sample...

Bella's House Rocks

So this is how I will always think of Bella...a working dog with heart who could smell meat a mile away.

Bella

                          Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth, 
                         And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; 
                         Sunward I've climbed and joined 
                         the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds.    

                                                     by John Magee
           
                             

In 2008 I bought Sherry a birthday gift...a beautiful Golden Retriever puppy that was half sister to Buck, our first Golden.  Sherry named her Bella and she immediately became part of our family and Buck's new best friend.

I've had lots of dogs over the years and while I loved them all, none of them have touched me as deeply as Bella.  I can't explain this, perhaps there is some invisible chemistry that bonded us together, maybe its that in my retirement years I have spent more time with Bella than any other dog.  I don't know why and its really not important to explain.  What's important is that she and I have had an amazing emotional connection throughout her life and will continue until one of us "slips the surly bonds of earth".

Buck and Bella

This week I noticed some unusual lumps the size of jelly beans in her throat.  I took her to the vet where she was examined by both Dr. Wonders and Dr. Williams.  They asked about other symptoms but I couldn't identify anything out of the ordinary...she was active, eating, drinking, pooping, etc like she always does.  He explained that swollen lymph nodes can be part of an infection, but that there would be other symptoms too.  And we had none of those.

I was then told that they suspected she had Lymphoma which is a blood-borne cancer of lymphocytes,  a specific type of white blood cell. It is the most common malignant cancer diagnosed in dogs.  It is a killer.

I said to the doctor, "You don't seem very optimistic about this".

He replied, "No, I'm not".

The seriousness of the situation began to wash over me.

I asked, "What's the outlook if it is Lymphoma?"

"It will kill her in months if we don't treat it.  With chemo she could live for a year"

I don't think I would have been more stunned if I was the patient.  Tears welled up and my head spun as I tried to digest what I was hearing.  This was the bad news I'd always feared that I'd hear.  Bella was now eleven years old and I dreaded the thought of losing her.  I agreed to leave her with the vet for a few hours so that they could draw fluid from the swollen lymph nodes and prepare it for the biopsy.

Driving home, I began to process the news and was overcome with grief.  I hammered my steering wheel and screamed, "No. No. No.".  I shouted, "You fucker", at no one in particular...maybe cursing at Cancer, maybe at God.  I was hurt, scared, angry.  I thought about what poor sweet Bella would have to go through. I thought about losing my best friend and constant companion over the past 11 years.  I'm ashamed to say it, but I felt a deeper sense of loss than when my father died.

I called Sherry and told her what had happened. She was stunned, simply saying, "Oh no".

And so, a day later, we sit and wait for the test results, expecting the worst with little reason for hope.  Sherry and I discussed what we'd do next (treat her with Chemo, let nature take its course, get another Golden, etc.)  but we really don't have the information we need to go beyond pure speculation.  The test results are due back tomorrow.

Now that she's home and her sedative has worn off Bella seems perfectly normal.  She's eating normally, active as ever, blissfully unaware of what hellish nightmare might be churning away in her body...that evil fucking disease trying to kill my sweet girl.  I thought that if I could get my hands on those exploding cells I'd choke the life out of them, I'd smash them to death before they could kill my girl.

I don't want to lose Bella and I'm terrified that this is the end for us.  We'll know more in a few days.  Until then, I will try to cherish what experiences we have left and spend every second with her that I can.

I love you Bella.