Celebrating a Decade of Love
For anyone who suffered more significant loss, either while pregnant, during this pandemic or at any time in their lives, I realize that this may seem dramatic and paltry in comparison.
However, anyone who has ever lost a dog knows that saying ‘my dog died’ somehow diminishes the experience. Even just referring to Hella as a dog, fails to accurately describe her. She somehow possessed mythical qualities. Body of a large cat, head of a cow with a face of a gorilla…known as a Munka. Munka short for Hunka Munka. She was a lover girl of epic proportions who craved adoration and felt a walk wasn’t for her benefit but so that she could greet her public. If outside announcing her presence to the neighborhood, she’d responded only to ‘yoohoo princess,’ a gentle calling one might use to delicately address a pain-in-the ass brat too smart to come when called in case she was in trouble.
Don’t misunderstand, she respected the pecking order and that I was boss. It took her a little longer to recognize Chris as an authority figure. If she ever did, perhaps she simply won him over as an endless source for face rubs and attention. She wouldn’t just ignore him if he asked her to get off the bed but would talk back, barking at him playfully until his tone turned from anger or frustration to laughing and jovial.
I was proud that our intense bond never limited her independence or ability to enjoy other people’s company. She accepted staying home alone during long flying days exceptionally well and fully enjoyed staying at friends houses for weekends if I went away on work. She accepted changes and military moves better than I ever could. Moving in with Chris meant not just the end of her sleeping in the bed but the introduction of a new puppy, also more of a chicken crossed with a goat, than a dog. She moved from tolerating him to enjoying him to loving him, but never stoped teasing him for being smaller and sillier.
Her physical journey through life was less gentle than her demeanor. We got her shortly before getting married in 2010 and she immediately contracted Parvo virus as a 5 week old puppy, lost half her body weight and was only one of 3 dogs at the hospital to survive. The vet honestly attributed our regular visits to her as the extra encouragement she needed to push through. This testament to loving attention as her life blood became even more apparent throughout her life. After a terribly invasive knee replacement while Chris and I were deployed to Afghanistan, my mother devoted ample time to her physical therapy and I am convinced this amount of attention not only aided her total recovery but also maybe encouraged her to go ahead and get her other knee replaced as well. This time she spent a week getting hydrotherapy and electrotherapy from a fancy Japanese surgeon. She acted as though she’d been at spa rather than a hospital. Her final and most gruesome surgery required a massive face lift to remove half of her lower mandible overtaken by a tumor. The Japanese vet requested she stay for a week but recanted after two days saying in his best translation that ‘it would be best for her personality’ since she only seemed to eat after Chris or I visited her. This time she needed our special blend of affection or maybe our special blend of 80% fat premium ground beef breakfast supply. Her maintenance level with half a bottom jaw increased significantly in that last year and half but she gave as much love back as she required in extra meal prep, and face wiping. Of course her absence creates a void, but there is more to her loss than that.
She got to meet my first true love, a 14 year old pug named Napoleon. His name accurately depicts his dominating role in my life from age 10 to 24. What a journey of growth over my lifetime that dog supported. When they met, Hella was almost the same size as the blind nearly deaf old man and she approached him with grace and a smidge of reverence. They overlapped for almost 2 weeks before he passed away and that small link brought a huge comfort. The loss of that link to him and my childhood adds another level of nostalgia to her passing.
While mom and I mourned Napoleon, I looked at Hella and said ‘what’s the point? You’re just going to get old and die on me too.’ In truth she did neither. She bounced around, barked, played, didn’t grey or get old lady looking. She never soured or acted crotchety. She stayed youthful, sweet and personable even at 10 and half. She did get sick, her body started give way. Maybe her heart, maybe some unseen cancer, it was fast and consuming. She didn’t die on me. She simply asked to go. Gently she warned me and after 2 days she asked to go. Lastly, as what I am sure was a familiar feeling of anesthesia taking over, she lifted her head to turn and kiss me goodbye in thanks for release and what was a great life together.
I fear what the sadness feels like for my unborn baby and tried to meditate a protective and loving bubble around him to spare him the feeling of loss and longing. However, the grief persists and I know it effects him. For awhile it felt difficult to get excited about the birth because of it. When I look at pictures of Hella and I together I see the problem. I might as well be sucking my thumb like child. She was my security blanket. She made me feel safe while living alone, comforted on deployment knowing she was with Chris or my mother, and she was my source of consistency for the past decade. One strictly loving entity who was always there. I don’t know my adult self without her. Starting a new chapter as a mother feels like starting a whole new book if she’s not a main character. I am accepting the challenge and instead trying to remember the confidence she gave me and realize that before I her, Chris was there, and my family was there. I find comfort and immense gratitude for their continued health, wellness and support. Chris and I also live together and we have an awesome security system with lots of cameras.
I always rebelled against my Catholic teaching that dogs can’t go to heaven because they don’t possess a soul. I also don’t think I accept the idea that we meet them again on ‘rainbow bridge’ comforting as that might be. I feel like her spirit may have joined the collective consciousness of nature and might not be that unique being who can visit you or protect you as a human soul could. Either way, one thing I know for certain is that she will live eternally in my memories and the indelible love she left in our lives.
Check out below for a slow restorative flow which helped me let go of some of the sadness, sit with the joy my girl brought me and feel more connected by growing bebe. Movements like this and long quiet meditations focused on memories of our life together from beginning to end brought physical and emotional release. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=feVaUSI9pl4
