A Life of Love

She flew into our lives in the spring of 2002.  Her ears were the biggest part of her then.  When we picked her up at the airport, she was a shivering, timid, quaking little ball of fur and she looked almost comical with those big Beagle ears on that tiny canine body.  As we swaddled and cuddled her like a newborn baby, she gradually relaxed and settled into her new home.  Love became our constant companion from that day on as our darling puppy girl entwined herself forever around the strings of our hearts.

We named her Mica (mee-ka).  I don’t recall how we made that choice, but it sure fit her perfectly.  She was the quintessential tri-coloured Beagle – white paws and underbody, black back and beautiful golden head.  Her soft gorgeous eyes were like liquid chocolate.  My heart melted the minute I saw her and she has been Mommy’s little shadow for over a dozen happy, wonderful years. 

In her early puppy days, she tested my patience on numerous occasions but her infantile antics delivered more laughs than tears.  One morning while she was still in the training stage and I was getting ready for work, I opened the patio door a smidgeon in case she had to “go” while I was in the shower.  When I went to get dressed, I noticed articles of clothing leading all the way downstairs and out the door.  Mica was having a grand old time ripping my undies to shreds in the backyard.  The rungs of my rocking chair still show evidence of her teething period, and whenever we painted she wore a coat of many colours until a trip to the doggie groomer restored her beautiful fur to its usual three shades.  She also thought that everyone was her friend; however, she soon discovered to her detriment that cats don’t fall into that category.  Her super sensitive Beagle nose often led her into places where she should not have gone, but her joie de vivre was infectious.  She loved, loved, loved to go for a walk with Mommy and Daddy.  She would get so excited upon hearing the word “walk” that we began to spell it.  That only fooled her for a short time, though, because she apparently learned to spell at a very early age.  “Bath” (no way, Mommy), “car”, “drive”, “go” and “treat” were quickly added to her spelling vocabulary. 

Over the years, her youthful playfulness was replaced by a loving, unwavering loyalty.  I think she could tell time because I’m told that at 4:30 p.m. each weekday she would pace between the living room window and the door waiting for Mommy’s arrival home and repeat the same process at 8:00 p.m. when Daddy finished work.  If we left the house without her, she would give us “the look”.  Those big, sad brown eyes would shoot arrows of reproach in our direction and then she’d heave a huge sigh of resignation.  Talk about a hang-dog look – she really had it mastered.

There was never a more faithful, caring friend.  Whenever I was feeling down or stressed, she knew it.  She would stay by my side and place her head in my lap, looking up at me with those warm brown eyes so full of love and concern.  We spent so many, many hours together that the bond of companionship forged will be a part of me forever.

You have probably already guessed where this story is going.  Our darling little Mica was recently diagnosed with a massive, rapidly growing tumor in her spleen and further tests indicated that it had most likely spread to her liver and pancreas as well.  Given her advanced age and the status of the tumor, surgery was not a viable option so we had to make the awful decision that all animal lovers dread.  Our hearts are broken but to let her linger and suffer would be very selfish and we could never do that to the little dog we have loved so much and for so long.  It was astonishing and heart wrenching to see her energy level and quality of life go downhill so quickly.  Our final act of love was to set her free. 

In a dream I had a few days ago, Mica was a happy little puppy again, bounding through a field of grass and daisies.  Her floppy ears were swinging with each step and she was running with so much joy and enthusiasm.  It gives me some relief to picture her that way, free from pain and the restrictions of old age.  Our faith assures us that greener pastures await us all on the other side of this life and I truly believe that beloved pets are included in that promise.  I look forward to our happy reunion some day.

I once read a very profound, touching story.  Its premise was based on who had the more perfect heart – a young man whose heart was pristine and untouched by life’s ups and downs or an old man whose heart was swollen and scarred after a long life of love and reality.  When the old man shared the tale of each particular scar and gash on his heart, the young man’s eyes were opened and he saw that the perfect heart is one which has lived and loved to the fullest, taking a chance that its fragility could be shattered many times throughout life’s journey.  Those who choose a pristine home and heart over the love and loyalty of a faithful animal companion may be spared much….. but they also miss out on so much more.

So now, precious puppy girl, with tear-filled eyes and a lump in my throat, I’ll sing our special song for you one last time.

                                “Oh, Mommy loves the Baby, Baby loves the Mommy, too

                                Mommy loves little Mica Chica Baby,

                                Yes, Mommy loves the Baby, Baby loves the Mommy, too

                                Mommy loves little Mica Chica Baby,

                                Mommy loves little Mica Chica Baby.”