🐕 Clancy, A Member of The Family 🐕

[FunkyJunkyGypsy]

WARNING:
The following account contains factual details about dogs and veterinary care.
Some may find it upsetting. Reader discretion is advised.

A Member of The Family

Some of you have been keeping me and my dog Clancy in your thoughts and I want to tell you about the amazing boy you’ve been praying for and why he is so special to me.

Years ago, my retriever Scarlett had a litter. It was in October, so each of the puppies were given Autumn and Halloween themed names (until their forever families changed those names). Puppies are born with a birth-sack on them, which the mama-dog quickly removes to allow them to breathe. In that process, the mother bites off the umbilical cord and licks the pup vigorously to get them to expel any fluid they may have inhaled, and breathing on their own. Welcome to the world!

One of the pups emerged rather quickly and Scarlett worked on him just as quickly; so quickly that I thought she’d accidentally bitten off his head. Not kidding. I freaked, but then realized she had just bent his neck in a certain way, instinctually knowing that he had breathed in some of his own birth fluid. For a moment there, he really did look like he had no head. Birth fluid out, I examined the butterscotch beauty and gave him his litter name: Ichabod.

My Mom was chronically ill and could only walk so far before tiring out, yet each day she was able to get to the ‘puppy room’ to see the babies. They were safely contained in a sort of playpen for puppies, which allowed Scarlett to step in and feed them, but was too high for them to climb out of until they were old enough and walking well.

One morning, I heard my mother in her bedroom, still in bed, trying to sleep as she told Scarlett to “go lay down”. Scarlett, it seemed, was licking her hand. That was strange to me, because if anywhere, Scarlett would be with her puppies or with me. I turned my head to find her lying nearby. Was my mother talking in her sleep? Come to think of it, I’d heard a pitter-patter sound moments before...

Ichabod had escaped the puppy pen and found his way to my mother’s bedroom, something he would do each day until I found him his forever home. My mom fell in love with him, and he with her. When it was down to two puppies left and a family came by to meet Ichabod and his sister, I brought the pups to our finished basement three stories down, which was designed as a second living room. Should the puppies pee or poop, the flooring there was tile as opposed to wood. Easy to clean.

Well, it seemed my Mom was in a bit of a panic, though she tried to appear cool about it. She showed up, a bit winded after making it down three flights of stairs and struggling through the house and down to the basement – without her oxygen tank. She joked that she’d been watching these puppies grow up and wanted to check out the kind of people who might be leaving with one. She was lying. She knew I had already vetted everyone who came to get a puppy well before they were invited into the home. She was afraid they’d choose Ichabod, as they had specifically come for a boy. It turned out, Ichabod’s sister was better suited for them and, wanting it to be a good match all around, I pointed this out. They really fell for her, and off to her forever home she went. And then there was one. One puppy left.

About a week later, I brought Ichabod to my mother who was sitting in the kitchen with my Dad having lunch. She looked up, saw the pup and said: “What’s this?” knowing something was happening. She looked nervous, taken-aback. I gently explained that Ichabod was about to go to his forever family and that I wanted her to have one last cuddle before he did. She took him on her lap and held onto him as if he were a human child, petting him, talking to him, and trying not to fall apart.

I assured her that the family he was going to not only had another dog for Ichabod to play with, but their dog was the same breed as “Icky”, great with puppies, and that the family was near enough that my mother could see Icky whenever she liked. All she cared about was whether or not they were good people and that they would treat Ichabod with love. I assured her that they were a great home in all respects, so much so that I’d even trust them with my treasured Scarlett. That seemed to reassure her.

She kissed the top of his little butterscotch head and talked to him as if he understood, explaining to him that she wanted the very best for him, wishing him a wonderful, happy life... that kind of thing. Then the time came when I had to take him from her arms. You’d think I was taking her own newborn from her.

As she handed him off to me, I said to the pup: “Okay, Ichabod! Are you ready to take a little trip and go to your forever family?” He just wagged his tail and looked adorably clueless the way puppies do. Mom, on the other hand, was putting on a brave face, but reaching into her pocket for a tissue, hoping I wouldn’t catch sight of her dabbing her eyes. I cradled Icky, waved his little paw at my folks, and told the puppy: "Say bye-bye!” Wow... Even my father looked like he was trying to keep it together.

"Are ya ready to meet your forever family?!?” I asked him excitedly. Again, he wagged his tail, happy and clueless. “Okay, let’s do this!” I said. I turned away from my parents and toward the door to the house. Then I turned back around.
“Icky, I want you to meet your human mommy!” I handed him back to my mother. She was shaky and sort of stunned. She looked to my father, tears in her eyes and a quiver in her voice and then, sounding like a small child, she meekly asked him: “Can I have a puppy?” My Dad, a bit choked up, jokingly replied: “See if I care!” which meant that he was all-in.

This is Icky a bit older, on the bench in our kitchen where Mom enjoyed coffee. He knew never to jump on her, so he would jump up on the bench and sit next to her to give her a kiss.

Now, what does all this have to do with Clancy? Well, Icky remained my mother’s constant companion until Lyme disease took him away at the age of five. We were all heartbroken, of course, but my mother and Scarlett were the most dramatically affected. Neither would get out of bed. Neither would eat. It got so bad that I was certain Scarlett was sick and I rushed her to the vet. The vet told me that she was grieving and suggested -- I kid you not -- that I put her on Prozac. Not liking that idea at all, I stopped at a friend’s home the next day to consult with her about this.

My friend was the woman who had bred Scarlett. An ethical dog breeder, regardless of how you may feel about purebred dogs, I prefered the qualities and traits of Scarlett's breed for a variety of reasons, including the ability to train them to protect and assist my parents. My friend happened to have puppies “on the ground” (born) at the time. I had visited them many times over the last weeks to help her socialize the pups, and as I played with them during my visits, one pup in particular would always come up to me wanting me to hold him. I’d pick him up, love him a bit, and then place him down to hold another. And at each visit he’d sit at my feet, staring at me, waiting for another chance to be held. Where I went, he went.

That day, my friend happened to be trimming the puppies’ nails, and when she got around to him, who I happened to be holding, he screamed as if he’d been burned when she took him from me. She didn’t even clip a nail yet! It didn’t take a dog-person to see that this particular pup had chosen me. Yet, I wasn’t there for a puppy. I was there for some advice as to what to do for my Scarlett. When my friend was done with his puppy pedicure, she handed the petrified pup back to me and told me: “Take him home. Puppies are better than Prozac.” I was stunned. I hadn’t gone there for a puppy, but I left with one.

My father greeted me as I walked into our home, surprised to see a puppy in my hands, one that very much resembled Ichabod. He choked up. Couldn’t speak. I went up to my parents’ bedroom to find my mom sitting in a chair beside her bed, wearing a bland sweatshirt, hair uncombed, looking tired and worn -- and still not eating. Her eyes lit up as I entered the room. Before I could say a word, she reached out for the puppy the way a kid reaches out for a birthday present. “A BABY!” she exclaimed. We named him Clancy.

Moments after Mom meets Clancy

The following morning, I woke to my usual routine of getting Mom bathed and dressed, making breakfast for her, bringing it up to her – except she wasn’t in her bedroom. I found her in the kitchen washing breakfast dishes. Huh?
“What’s going on?” I asked her.
I was even more surprised when she turned from the sink to face me. She was dressed in a pretty floral blouse. Her hair had been combed and styled. She had earrings, lipstick, even perfume on. “I don’t know why, but I just feel really good this morning so I decided to come down and make my own breakfast.” She hadn’t done that in years.

Scarlett snapped right out of her funk too, instinctually going into mothering mode. So intense was her reaction that her body began producing milk – and she hadn’t given birth! The two dogs became inseparable, and why not? Clancy was Ichabod’s nephew, making Scarlett his Grand-aunt.

Scarlett and her "new baby" Clancy

It was November then, exactly 14 years ago this week, when my mother asked me if I’d mind terribly if we’d changed some plans we’d made. No longer able to cook a Thanksgiving feast, she felt guilty and burdensome that the meal fell on me each year, but I loved it and would tease her about my cooking being better than hers. But this year…. This year we had all been through so much. We were drained after losing Ichabod, so we decided to go out for Thanksgiving dinner, something we’d never done before. And now, Mom asked if I’d mind staying home and cooking for the family instead. She felt it was a ‘big ask’ and I wondered if she wasn’t being completely honest about how she was feeling health-wise. “What’s going on?” I asked.
I swear. This was her answer: “Well, it’s the puppy’s first Thanksgiving and I don’t want him to be alone.”

I SWEAR: My mother was not stricken with Alzheimer’s, Dementia, or any other mental disorder, but she did have a serious case of puppy-love. Mom knew that the pup would not be alone at all. He had Scarlett to keep him safe and warm. Mom was simply smitten with the little guy. That dog became her “therapy dog”, her reason for getting out of bed in the morning, her canine baby. What a blessing he was to all of us. Years later, Mom would be taken to the hospital, never to return home. As the EMTs lifted her out of her bed, she called out one name: Clancy. Not me, not my father, not even God. She called for Clancy. It was the last word she ever spoke in that house.

Now, eleven years later, Clancy and I have gone through many adventures. When Scarlett passed at 16 years of age, he became even more clingy to me. We needed each other. He was part of a life now gone, a home left behind, another time. And through these years, through all the adjustments I’ve had to make, all the changes of life and the curveballs life sometimes throws at you, Clancy’s been there; happy, healthy, and radiating unconditional love. He went from being my mother’s “therapy” dog to mine.

As dogs tend to do, Clancy developed a growth under his skin, but was unaffected by it. Because he was 10 years-old at the time it appeared, I was advised by his vet not to risk surgery. Four years after this, Clancy was still seemingly unaffected, but the growth had gotten larger and I wanted it removed. Good luck finding a surgeon who would operate on a 14-year-old dog. In dog years, 14 years-of-age is equivalent, as far as the aging effect on the body, to a 98-year old man. For most dogs, this means they are elderly. For Clancy; still active, playful, strong, and alert, 14-years-old just means he’s a Senior, a “young” 98. I didn't give up on him, and after many prayers, I found a qualified surgeon willing to take his case regardless of his age.

On Tuesday morning of this (last) week, I brought Clancy to the specialist who would save his life. She gave him a once-over and ran some pre-surgical blood testing. Just a week before, to the very day, Clancy’s usual vet had made a house call, checked him over, and put him on antibiotics. Within 24-hours of that, Clancy was pretty much back to his puppy-like ways. This time around, the vet detected a heart murmur, something he did not have a week ago. His blood tests came back revealing that his kidneys and liver had been weakened and were on the verge of shutting down. He was in heart failure. Certainly, he was not fit for surgery, and there was nothing we could do to get him fit for it. Nature was having its way and it was only a matter of days before he’d pass -- and it would be painful.

We make a promise to our animals, at least I do, that we will provide for them, love them, and protect them. As I said in the Set I had posted about him initially (now Private), disease is like a train. With pets, if you see a train coming and you cannot stop it, you pull your pet out of the way so they won't get hit; usually by letting them go. If the train's already hit them, then you end/prevent any further suffering rather than letting all the other cars on that train rumble over your animal. In short; always try to prevent the train from hurting them.

Just last week, the train hit him. It knocked him about 50 feet and he'd landed on the tracks, that damned train still rocketing toward him. This week, he'd gotten his bearings and was in a place where someone knew how to stop that train; derail it, pull it off the f-n tracks. But this new development, this heart failure, rendered them unable to do this. Pulling Clancy off the tracks was our only option. We had to stop the train from hitting him again. We learned that the first hit did some internal damage, unrepairable, deadly damage. I had two options: I could leave my dog on the tracks and let the train finish him off, or I could gently move him off the tracks, which is what I did.

Somehow, expecting that I would be bringing him home that evening after his surgery, I was able to accept that I would never bring him home again. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t leveled by this. And when it came time to say “See you later!” (never: “Good-bye”) I had a familiar thought, a concern many animal lovers have when they reach this moment: What if he knows? What if he knows what I’ve decided for him and when he gets on the Other Side, he feels betrayed?

Guilt is the most common reaction to putting one’s pet “to sleep”. I have had this same thought about all of the dogs who’ve blessed my life when it came time to release them from this realm. Each is a different dog, so one never gets used to this, yet some people assume that you do. Pardon the extreme analogy, but expecting pet-people to adapt to letting their beloved pets go when it comes time is akin to expecting a mother to be better able to deal with ‘the next one’ each time a child of hers dies – which was a very common occurrence a hundred years ago.
(https://www.cdc.gov/mmwr/preview/mmwrhtml/mm4838a2.htm)

Of course, I am not equating a dog, or any animal, to a human being, and certainly not a child. Dogs are their own special kind of spirit, and they do have souls. And ours, if blessed, connects to those souls on an almost unearthly level… which may be why “dog” spelled backwards remind us of who gave us such a gift; a creature capable of pure love without any condition.

And in thinking about that, a new, additional thought struck me, one I hadn’t ever had before. ... If Clancy, or any animal, is given the gift of awareness and understanding (Divine Perception) in death and, once released from his train-battered body, does know what I’ve decided for him, then it follows that he will also know WHY I did it for him, and he will be grateful. Why this extremely comforting realization never came to mind before, I can only guess. It showed up when I needed it, and I suspect this is because Clancy and I had so many people praying for us. What a blessing. What a gift.

Clancy chilling on the couch with his favorite toy, an sock tied in a knot.

I received an exceptional last week with my boy. No pain, no suffering, just snuggling and fun. And a week to the day later, the indication as to what to do for him presented itself. There was no mistaking it. I’d needed a definitive reason to let him go and his sweet old heart gave me one. Clancy closed his eyes and drifted off without fight or fanfare. Total trust as I held him and sung his song. Yeah, Clancy had a song. I made it up his first week with us as a way to get him accustomed to his name and I would sing it to him often. He went to sleep listening to his lullaby. And that is how it should be.

________________________________________________________________________________

I have not felt very social this last week, drained mostly from the worry, the fretting, and then the tears. Buckets of tears. But I do feel grateful. Grateful for 14 years with a dog who wasn’t sick or suffering. Grateful for the indication that it was “his time”. Grateful that I never have to second-guess that decision. Grateful for the realization that if he does somehow know what I decided for him, he also knows ‘why’ and he is happy that I kept the train from slamming into him again. I am especially grateful to all of you who have prayed for him, in whatever way you have. All well wishes are a form of prayer and I believe that collectively, your prayers caused me to remain strong for my boy, to recognize the Divine in death, and to further live in the moment, they way our dogs live.

A very special Thank You to those of you who offered your support, gave me spiritual and emotional sustenance, and for respecting my feelings for, and connection with, my Clancy. I am immensely grateful to you.

@laughingdog @kleasterling @auntiehelen @cathie-mcnally @luckied99 @cindu12 @debraelizabeth

[HelenCampbell]

Oh, such a beautiful dog..... and that is the highest praise from someone who is not a "dog" person. I know that Clancy enriched your lives and you his... he is at peace now, and he knows how much he was loved

[FunkyJunkyGypsy]

@auntiehelen You aren't a dog person??? Your heartfelt comments could have fooled me! You must be an ANIMAL person. I know you are a beautiful soul. Thank you so much!!! xox

[HelenCampbell]

@funkyjunkygypsy Yes.. I'm an animal person, but I always have had cats! Actually I think one of the reasons I have never had a dog of my own( though we did have a dog when I was a child.. my brother's sidekick!) is that I like to take off here there and everywhere and I couldn't leave a dog... cats, on the other hand simply give you one tremendous row when you get back.

[Laughingdog]

Tears streaming, thank you. With this, he has touched even more lives and hearts with your writing. Thanks for sharing Clancy's story with us.

[FunkyJunkyGypsy]

@auntiehelen Yes, dogs cannot be left the way cats can so you have to find a dog-sitter you love and trust. Not always easy, but do-able! (I have cats too!) xox

[FunkyJunkyGypsy]

@laughingdog Oh Goodness! You're going to get ME teary-eyed. What beautiful words. Thank you, Sweetheart!

[sjlew]

This opened the flood gates sweetie, a beautiful story of love, your parents, Icabod, and Clancy. Yes, absolutely Clancy knows what you did for him and thanks you. Hes is beautiful. He will be there to greet you when you return ''home'', and no doubt he is with your mama. The great thing is, they are healed, young, and vibrant. No suffering what so ever. We don't die, we just change. When your grief eases I feel you will feel him near. Dogs absolutely know what is going on. He knows he is cherished and loved, there is no greater, unconditional love like a dogs. Thank you for sharing with us sweetie. God bless.

[FunkyJunkyGypsy]

@sjlew I thought you don't follow blogs? THANK YOU for that, Crazy Cat Lady! Bless you!

[sjlew]

@funkyjunkygypsy Normally I don't sweetie, but I felt the need for this one, made me cry, but at the same time, a story of love. That is how we lost our dog, heart failure, she was raised with our daughter, we saw her having a rough time, and rushed her to an overnight emergency, the vet was trying to treat her and pull her through, I ask my daughter she maybe have to make a decision that night the vet tech came in a said the vet has trying to drain fluid and had her on I.V. told my daughter to prepare, to end her suffering if need be, about then the tech came back in a said she had passed, my hubby told our daughter her dog let go also as a gift to her. I felt her around, at times, I could feel her jump up on the bed, anyway, we took some time alone with her that night to wish her goodbye, my daughters decision was to have her cremated, we have her little urn. We love the cats dearly, and they show us affection in their own ways, but there is just something special a dog bring into our life. We will have them again once we return home.

[Fashionfreak119]

Somehow I missed your original post regarding Clancy. The last two years I had to say goodbye to our 2 senior dogs a year apart almost to the day. They were also my kids first experience with losing someone they loved. As my hubby and I acquired both before our children were even born. 'Princess' was 15 and 'Chico' was 16. I always claimed I would have to be buried with Chico when his time came so it was extremely hard for me! So I emphasize with you tremendously. I was sitting on my porch reading your post and balling like a baby. I had to venture back inside so I didnt scare the neighbors with the mascara running down my face. My heart goes out to you and Clancy now that he's crossed over the Rainbow Bridge.

[Shelley Harcar]

Oh! I am so terribly sorry to hear your Clancy's time arrived. My sweet boy, Rufus, left us in July after 12 wonderful years together. I'm glad to hear you have peace about your decision. I believe you are 100% correct. I think dogs are exceptionally intuitive and much more intelligent than some people believe. Freeing them from the painful confines of earthly bodies is so very painful, regardless of the necessity or how many years we were blessed to share with them. Prayers for your healing and comfort at this time of pain and loss

[Rboowybe]

I'm very sorry for your loss. I did not know you were going thru this with Clancy. I was having a similar issue with one of my cats. I was told 2 weeks ago she had Hyperthyroidism and then last week my husband had to rush her to the vet because her breathing was labored, they drained 70ml of fluid off her lungs and said she was in heart failure. She had spent the day at the vet so we wanted to bring her home for the night to say goodbye, the vet said she was well enough to. I ended up in the hospital so my husband scheduled her to go in Friday, I got out of the hospital Thursday and came home to her breathing bad again, it was 4pm, I had to call my vet and he had to take her right away. All I got to do was kiss her goodbye. I have both dogs and cats and have lost both, I know how it feels to have to make that decission and be there with them. I'm very sorry for your loss, he knows you made the decission out of love and for his good. He's waiting for you along with Scarlett. Hugs, Rhana xoxo

[FunkyJunkyGypsy]

@fashionfreak119 Oh my Goodness, you DO know. I've had all of my dogs cremated so they can be buried with me. I kid you not. Losing two of your dogs a year apart --- horrible. I can tell that you empathize and it's very helpful and therapeutic to connect with people who do. Not everyone really "gets" the dog thing, and I suspect it's because they never really shared their lives with one. Thank you so much for your thoughts and for what you've written. Have you welcomed a dog to the family since you lost Princess and Chico?

[FunkyJunkyGypsy]

@shelley-harcar Thank you, Shelley. Ah, you have traveled this road too. I am so sorry to learn of you losing Rufus. Twelve years is a long time according to some people, but never long enough. And yes, we do free them from either pain they have or pain they will have -- and all the pain is on us. And if it has to be me or my dog, I'll take the pain every time. Thank you so so much for your prayers and for your beautiful words.

[FunkyJunkyGypsy]

@rboowybe Oh my! Cats are just as loved as dogs. Be it horses, guinea pigs, birds, it doesn't matter what kind of animal. There is a sacredness in the bond we make with them. I also have two cats. Having to bring your kitty home to say goodbye is a heartbreak. I was offered that option, but I feared the addition time may give "the train" an opportunity to hit Clancy again. How horrible to find your fur-baby breathing badly, and how scary. Like me, you know you did right by her and you can rest easy with that, but not with their absence. That takes getting used to and as you know, it's not easy, but I would rather get used to Clancy not being with me than him have to get used to me not being with him. That is another pain animals experience that I cannot bear. I am very sorry for your loss as well, and hope you are feeling better healthwise. Thank you, Rhana.

[Shelley Harcar]

@rboowybe Oh I am so very sorry. How absolutely awful that your time with your cat was cut short. It's just awful to have to let them go, even though it is the best thing for them.

[Lady Blue]

I am so sorry. I haven't been here, so I didn't know about this, or I would have added my prayers. What a wonderful life Clancy has had, and how enriched are the lives he has touched!

And your sorrow...it permeates the page, and it hurts, and those of us who can relate hurt for you. I'm glad you had him, glad you got your indication, glad you know that you don't have to feel guilty, and so sorry that you're feeling this pain and this loss.

Wishing you comfort. Sending you love.

[Rboowybe]

@shelley-harcar Thank you for your thought Shelley. I feel as @FunkyJunkyGypsy does, I would rather miss my baby then let them suffer for one minute. I have lost many cats and a few dogs and it never gets any easier, I still cry for every cat and dog I've ever lost. They will always be my babies and I know, just as I will see my loved ones again, I will see my babies again.

[Shelley Harcar]

@rboowybe I completely agree with you. My sweet boy, Rufus passed away in July. He was 12 and had a wonderful life & a family who adored him...I still cry and miss my boy, but like you said, I'll see him again