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Ian's Story
You
Cannot Measure Love in Years
by
Alison Doyle
(reprinted
with permission)
Goldens
take your heart, and cherish it... they walk with it, and sleep with
it, and they will never let it out of their sight... and when it's
their time, they will take a little piece of it with them to remember
you by....
And leave a piece for you to remember them by....
Author
Unknown
This
is a story of thanks, hope, and love, as well as of grief. Thanks to
the shelter workers who didn’t just euthanize an old dog with no
teeth and a very large tumor. Thanks to the rescue volunteers who
called and emailed Peppertree
Rescue about this very sweet old dog with a very large tumor who
howled at the shelter. Ian, named by one of our volunteers, never
howled again. Thanks to Sue Rushman who agreed he was worth saving and
went and got him from the shelter.
A
special thank you to Dr. Joy Lucas at Upstate Veterinary Clinic who
saved his life, on September 11, 2001, during three hours of
touch-and-go surgery. Also a special thank you to Pam Nelson,
Homestead Animal Hospital, who saved his life a second time. I
appreciate Pam’s wisdom and advice over the years, especially when
we made the hard decision not to operate a third time and the harder
decision to let Ian go.
Another
special thank you to Betsy Sommers and David Sawicki, President and
Treasurer of Peppertree Rescue who didn’t hesitate to say “yes”
despite the high medical expenses. We are a very small, poor rescue
and Ian cost a lot of money. Thanks too, to everyone at Peppertree who
listened to me, shared my joy, my anguish and my tears. Especially,
Leda Kim who helped me through the rough roller coaster ride of the
last month or so.
Thank
you to my family and friends who loved him too. Especially, Aimee
Miller who always made sure he had a special treat and a special trip
outside with her. We’ll forgive her for the time she almost lost
him! And to my husband, though a self-proclaimed
"not-a-dog-person," who always had a kind word and a pat for
"Big Red" and for the other dogs too! Thanks to Katie too,
for loving him, despite the fact that he didn't play like her little
dogs.
Thanks
to Margo McHann for including Ian and I in her book – My
Rescued Golden and to Sam and Paul Stelmaszyk who took these
wonderful photos. Thanks to everyone I have forgotten to mention,
please forgive me.
A
word of thanks, too, to the person who dumped him, couldn’t deal
with his tumor and/or who didn’t care enough to find the dog that
had been part of their life for twelve years or so. Despite my years
in rescue, I still cannot comprehend how this could have happened not
only to a good dog, but, to an old dog. Your trash is my treasure and
I really do appreciate the gift you gave me more than I have the words
to say.
Most
of all, thanks to Ian for loving me. On some level, he’s always been
my dog despite the fact that he spent twelve years of his life
somewhere else. He loves everyone else too. Ian could march in an
adoption clinic, still toothless and very old, and people would still
want to adopt him. His tail never stopped wagging. About the only time
Ian was cranky was with Xena, his bossy little rescue Pug sister, who
tried to boss the wrong guy and eat his dinner. She’s lucky he’s
toothless!
Ian
came to me as a foster. I had just placed another rescue Golden and
there was room in our home and our hearts. I offered to go and
evaluate Ian and foster him, if we could save his life. I walked into
the veterinary clinic. Ian wagged his tail, rubbed his head on my hip
and snuggled. I lost my heart.
Katie,
my daughter and I, took him to PetsMart. Katie thought he needed a
fashionable collar and leash so he came home in animal print.
It’s
hard to believe that, in years, he was only with us for a short time.
It really does feel like he was with us forever and he will be forever
in my heart. Our milestones were small by normal standards, but, still
they thrilled us. I'll never forget the first time, after surgery,
that Ian could lay on his back and roll. There was a look of utter joy
on his face. I also won't forget Katie exclaiming "Ian ran, Ian
ran" and "Ian chased the ball." His run was never much
more than a fast trot, but, he could move again!
The
time we had was happy - we went on lots of long walks, trips to the
beach and to the park. Despite his age, he happily played with our
little dogs and kept them all behaving! Ian was always by my side and
he couldn’t walk out a door without turning his head to make sure I
was following him. Of course, I always did.
Ian
is a poster boy for dog rescue and is symbolic of the best rescue can
be. As Jim Willis, author of Pieces
of My Heart told me “That's what it is all about - not
"sense," not "logic," not "economics" -
but the precious beings who somebody else threw away and still have
the power to change lives.” Ian’s rescue didn’t make a whole lot
of sense from a logical or economical point of view. He was old, he
was going to have massive vet bills and probably wasn’t going to be
that easy to place. He sure did change lives though, most of all mine.
This
is also a story of love and of hope and of the good that the tireless,
unpaid, unsung heroes of dog rescue do, day in and day out, with a
never ending stream of dogs that someone has decided they can’t
keep, don’t want, have to get rid of, and typically need to have
that happen right now.
It
is, too, a story of grief, sadness and letting go. As winter waned and
spring began, the tumor grew and grew. As I began to realize that
there would be no miracle for us, I watched the geese migrating north
as we went on our morning walks and thought that the geese would
always be a reminder of the good days we had...
Ian
left us on April 16, 2003. He died in my arms while I held him as
tight as I could. He wagged his tail until he fell asleep, then gently
and peacefully left us. I am terribly sad, and quite lost, without
him.
Two
days after Ian died, as I walked with the little dogs and a empty
space in my heart, a few geese, migrating late in the season in
upstate New York, flew overhead. Whether it was a sign, or not, I
don't know, but, it gave me a measure of comfort and I'll take that.
Finally
though, and most importantly, Ian’s story is a story of how you
cannot measure love in time. Jim Willis again found just the right
words to convey both the time and the love.
I
Loved You Best
So this
is where we part, My Friend,
and you'll run on, around the bend,
gone from sight, but not from mind,
new pleasures there you'll surely find.
I will
go on, I'll find the strength,
life measures quality, not its length.
One long embrace before you leave,
share one last look, before I grieve.
There
are others, that much is true,
but they be they, and they aren't you.
And I, fair, impartial, or so I thought,
will remember well all you've taught.
Your
place I'll hold, you will be missed,
the fur I stroked, the nose I kissed.
And as you journey to your final rest,
take with you this...I loved you best.
Copyright
© 2002 by Jim Willis, Used with Permission
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