Nea Fane – Un Biet Român Pripășit în America / A Hapless Romanian Stuck in The US

One evening, in 2009, after nine years of wagging and bounding, my dog did not greet me when I came home from work. I opened the door to silence. I walked in to no excited nose nudges, no joyful dances, no licking and prancing. The silence was deafening and ominus. I searched the house, finally finding Lucy in her travel crate. She looked up at me with her large, sad eyes, unable to move. Initially, I thought her arthritis had flared up, but after two days of testing, it was discovered that she had
 spondylosis, a degenerative condition of the lower spine. Because of her age, surgery was not an option.  All we could possibly do was to make her remaining time as comfortable as possible.

In 2011, after two years of watching Lucy grow weaker and more sorrowful, we made the heartbreaking decision to take her to the veterinarian for her final visit. As she crossed the bridge, we held her paws, and, surrounded by love and sorrow, the gratitude reflected in her eyes.

We would love to think that she perhaps – just perhaps – was able to send us this letter:

Dear Mommy and Daddy,

I just wanted to share how happy I am here in doggy heaven. It’s amazing! My legs feel great now, and I only go potty outside, just like I used to before I got really sick. The other dogs are so friendly, and sometimes I even bark back at them. It feels wonderful to bark and to walk again!

The views are incredible: I can see all of Scottsdale and even Staten Island, all the places we went together. I can even keep an eye on our backyard and watch you with Bill. My curiosity has returned, and I’m exploring every nook and cranny, just like I used to. Remember how I would tug you in every direction on our walks? That stopped for a while, but now I’m back to being my old, spry, ramblin’ self!

Thank you for taking such great care of me for eleven kind and wonderful years! (Well, nine actually. You know it wasn’t you, but the last two weren’t so hot).

You might think you picked me out at that pet store, but actually I chose you! I knew you were just the perfect family for me, and you never, ever proved me wrong. You took such good care of me – especially you, Irina. You always filled my food and water bowls and kept them clean, which meant the world to me. Thank you so much for being my very best friend.

You took me to the vet for checkups, and you helped me when my knee went bad. Remember my little issue with hemorrhoids? You nursed me through that, too, even if you couldn’t help but laugh. You knew how silly I felt with that lampshade on my head, and you comforted me through it.

But could you please get rid of all those photos and videos of me bumping into things with that “cone of shame” around my head? They just don’t do a thing for my boxer image!

The love I felt from everyone was incredible. I felt like a sister – always ready to return the affection for all the cuddles and gentle pets. I know you all loved me so much, even when I couldn’t show it like I used to.

But Irina, you meant the most to me. We spent the most time together, and you showered me with love and care for 11 years. How many times did you pick up after me? How many doors did you open for me? How many hairs of mine did you clean off or sweep up? Thank you for everything!

I’m sorry for the little accidents in the car and in the house at the end. I just got so sick, and….. well, you know.

There’s no way I could ever express how grateful I am for the joy and support you gave me. I was sorry to leave, but I was so tired and unwell. I was having far more bad days than good ones. It was time, it was time. Now, I’m happy again!

Please remember me with joy and a smile, just like I remember all of you – Stefan, Cosmin, Bill, everyone. There are no collars or leashes here, and I go for long walks whenever I want to, ALL the time! Life is wonderful! It truly was my time to go, and I’m grateful you made it so peaceful, so loving, and so dignified.

I love you, Irina, Cosmin, and Stefan. And, eternally, I always will.

Lucy