On Friday, May 14th, John and I held our precious Tazmin in our arms as she passed away. As she left us, we kissed her sweet furry little face, and told her how much we loved her. We thanked her for being our “girl”, and told her she didn’t have to fight anymore. Her battle was over. It was one of the most difficult things we’ve ever had to do, but we loved her too much to let her suffer. Tazmin gave us unconditional love her entire life, and in the end, it was only fair to return the favor when she needed it most.
Some of you may have followed Tazmin’s progress during the last 18 months, but may be unaware that on April 27th, x-rays showed that the untreatable tumor on Tazmin’s heart had metastasized to her lungs. The cancer produced fluid, filling her chest cavity. Once the fluid built up, Tazmin struggled with every attempt to inflate her lungs, and the pressure from the fluid on her diaphragm made it sound as if she groaned with every breath she took. She would pant heavily and her tongue started to turn a blue tint due to lack of oxygen. It just broke our hearts. We took her down to the specialist veterinary hospital and had her chest tapped on three separate occasions, each six days apart, and in ever-increasing amounts, which indicated the rapid acceleration of the cancer. This procedure does nothing to slow or halt the disease. And although Tazmin clearly felt much better after each procedure, it only bought us a little time. But unfortunately, the procedure can be painful and distressing for the animal to undergo and is not recommended more than a few times – and certainly not every six days.
As Tazmin continued to spiral down this week, we made the decision that since we had to let her go, we’d prefer to let her go here at home. She’d been through so many trips to the vet, I didn’t want to upset or frighten her anymore. So John called a veterinarian who has a mobile practice and made the appointment for Friday at 1:00 pm. That would be 5 days since her last chest tap, and if by some miracle she stabilized that week, we could delay the appointment. But as the days ticked away, it became clear there would be no further miracles. So we focused our lives around Tazmin this past week, determined to enjoy the time we had left with her and to ensure that she did too. She no longer wanted to eat her regular food, so we cooked extra special items, hoping to stimulate her fading appetite. We took her down to the ocean every day, and because she wasn’t allowed to walk very far, we’d park close to a point (henceforth called Tazmin’s Point ^_^), and go sit on that point and let the ocean breeze blow in her face and fur . . . she loved it. We also took her to our favorite coffee house in downtown Santa Cruz. In the past, dogs have been forbidden on the main street of shops there, and Tazmin had to wait in the car. But recently that law has been overturned, and although it isn’t in effect yet, we took her with us anyway (just let them try and give me a ticket!). We sat at the sidewalk tables where she happily lay on the cool cement, shared our cookies, and watched the world go by. She always loved going places with us and being included in any activity. People often stopped to admire and pet her, and she basked in the attention. Since she loved everyone, of course they’d love her, too – she expected it. ^_^
Tazmin was the best dog we’ve ever had. She wasn’t a perfect dog, but she was perfect for us. She came into our lives in 1998, just a few weeks after we’d lost our last dog. It had been a difficult year – we’d lost all 3 of our dogs within an 8-month period, and our hearts were absolutely raw. But our house was so quiet and lonely – truly unbearable. Then came this 9-week-old seriously adorable, mischievous, stubborn, precious, energetic, fuzzy little ball of trouble. Foolishly, I was determined to hold onto my bruised heart; it felt as if I was being unfaithful to the memory of our previous “girls” if I loved this new girl. (Silly, huh?) My sister kept asking me if I loved her as much as I loved my other girls, and I’d answer that I really liked her and thought she was adorable, but I wouldn’t admit to loving her yet. But it really didn’t take long at all for me to fall in love with that little stinker. She was nothing like our previous girls . . . indeed, she was more trouble than the three of them put together. But that turned out to be her saving grace . . . she was an individual worthy of our love for who she was, and she found her very own place in our hearts.
According to Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM), Tazmin was a classic “fire” dog . . . happy happy happy, and a bit of a drama queen. She met life head-on, full of joy, enthusiasm and energy. Even on Friday, her last day, with her poor little front legs swollen with edema, she buzzed over to the sliding door and barked at an impertinent squirrel who had the audacity (and/or stupidity) to venture into Tazmin’s yard. I opened the door, and out she charged, jumped up onto the bench, shakily braced her front paws on the railing, and barked her fool head off at the retreating squirrel. And when the mobile vet knocked on the front door at 1:00, she ran to the door and barked at him too, all while groaning for oxygen, her tongue turning blue. She never did give up – a fire dog to the very end.
Many people told us that Tazmin would tell us when it was time to let her go, and I kept waiting for that sign. It never came. Last Sunday, when we had our last run to the emergency vet clinic, the veterinarian on duty came into the room after having looked at Tazmin’s chart, fully expecting to tell us it was time to let her go. But then he met her for the first time and looked into her eyes, and commented that Tazmin still had “fire” in her eyes . . . a spark. I think he then understood why we were asking them to tap her chest one last time. He also said that while most dogs tell you when it’s time to let them go, some dogs never lose that spark, and they never do give you a sign. They keep going until they just collapse. My heart sank. I thought, “This girl is just stubborn enough to be that way.” And she was.
I wish I was half the “person” Tazmin was. I know she wasn’t a perfect dog. We all have our faults, but hers faded into insignificance when compared to her best qualities. She loved us unconditionally and was always so happy to see us, even if we’d been gone just 5 minutes or 5 hours, and she’d meet us at the door with her special Keesie “grin”. She never held a grudge. She was always willing and happy to try new things and see new places. Roadtrip? You bet! Whether a quick trip to the grocery store or a 2½-hour trip to see Grandma, it didn’t matter. She never met a person or another dog she didn’t like. She was quick to give kisses and tail wiggles, and we didn’t even have to ask for them. She loved her food – and ours – and we’d better be willing to share. ^_^ She was always willing to “help”; whether it was with cooking dinner, installing a new toilet, or taking a shower . . . she was there.
Last year, our TCM vet told me that the reason animals don’t live very long in comparison to people is because they are in our lives to teach us something, and when they’re done teaching us all they can, they pass on. I don’t know if I believe that – it’s a little New Age-y for me – but if for the sake of argument we look at it that way, I know what I’d learn from the way Tazmin lived her life.
1. Love unconditionally – and don’t hold grudges. Life is too short.
2. Live in the moment and don’t worry about what tomorrow may never bring.
3. Embrace life with enthusiasm and a positive attitude – every day can be like Christmas morning.
4. Be happy – and don’t sweat the small stuff. In the overall scheme of things, they mean nothing.
5. Be kind to everyone you meet – whatever their species.
On Friday morning, it occurred to me that while we’d been hoping for a miracle this past week, perhaps the miracle has been these last 18 months with Tazmin, and John agreed. We’d been told she had less than a year. In fact, some people thought we should have put her down then. But no, we wouldn’t trade those 18 months for the world. Indeed, she was the best thing to happen to us in the last 12 years. We thank God for the day Tazmin’s breeder took pity on us and let us bring her home, instead of sending her to someone in Texas as originally intended.
Our house is so quiet, and our hearts are raw and aching. I know it will get better with time . . . lots of time and lots of tears. And although we don’t know when, at some point someone else will come into our lives, bringing love and laughter, and they will find their own place in our hearts. Someday. In the meantime, I’ll finally have privacy in the bathroom for the first time in 12 years. ;) (I’d rather have the company.) I imagine we’ll be overrun with squirrels. And I don’t even know how to cook without a “helper” underfoot, or how to eat a meal without leaving her extra tidbits on my plate. I fully expect my water bill to skyrocket because I now have to actually rinse my dishes before I put them in the dishwasher. I’ve lost my precious little pre-wash cycle.
And finally, I know this was a long and difficult post – I apologize. In my grief, I felt compelled to share the wonderfulness of Tazmin and to celebrate her life. The Divine Miss T, indeed. ^_^ I want to thank all of you who took this journey with us these last 18 months. You’ll never know how much we appreciated your prayers and positive thoughts. It’s a privilege to keep company with such wonderful people.
Take care,
~Marilee
P.S. This picture was taken last Christmas at the assisted living facility where my mother lives. It isn’t of the highest quality, but to me it’s a perfect illustration of Tazmin’s happy and joyful personality. (Apologies for the glowing eyes.)
If you want to read the complete history, you can find it in these previous two threads:
http://davesgarden.com/community/forums/t/926761/
http://davesgarden.com/community/forums/t/939981/
