blucola: (Lucy love/ courtesy Babycakesin)
( May. 30th, 2005 11:10 pm)
Mom has a dog that she and my Dad adopted several years ago from a program at Purina. They train dogs, have them work for several years in schools and hospitals, then retire them with loving families. Fancy is a medium sized black poodle. She's very dainty, moves with absolute grace and has just the sweetest disposition. She follows Mom as if the sun rose and set on her. Which it probably does. I don't think she had the level of love and caring, that my parents have given her, from any of her trainers or keepers.

Like I said in a previous post, Dad adored Fancy. And Fancy has really helped Mom get through Dad's death (that and a million and one committee meetings...) And now it's Fancy's turn. She was diagnosed with liver failure several months ago. Right now she has lived two months past the time the vet gave her. Mom is the one who grooms her now, because Fancy is starting to lose her fur and can't be bathed as often as she used to.

Fancy is still bright and alert, begging (quietly, always quietly) for snacks. Her favorite snack are the Pepperidge Farm goldfish. Apparently they are easy for her to digest. The other night she tried to steal M&Ms from me, despite the fact that I know my parents have never given her chocolate. And for some reason, when she sees me, she thinks I will have food for her! LOL

It's sweet to see the care Mom gives her. And it's also heart-breaking to feel the skin stretched over her bones. If she didn't still have her fur (it's only just starting to fall out) she would look rather frightening. As it is, she still has that sweet little face and bright eyes. She still watches Mom's every mood and she even submits to the feeding with a syringe without complaint, although she sometimes tries to get away. And she gets out her toys. She can't play much with them, but the desire is still there.

It's heart-breaking. But then, looking at Fancy, I think about when it was me in the hospital, with all the surgeries I had for the tumors in my ear. So much of it was a blur, but I do remember the feel of Mom's hand. There's a comfort there in simple touch and in the presence of someone who won't give up on you. It's Fancy's turn now. And as far as I'm concerned, she's a lucky dog.
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