In what was a typical weeknight following a work day, Bea and I were playing with the frisbee. This, in itself, is nothing unusual. My baby loves her frisbee time. Even the dog walker that I have hired to come over everyday does not actually ‘walk’ Bea but instead spend the 15 minutes in the backyard throwing frisbee. I have always been ok with this because this makes Bea happy.
But last night, after arriving home and making her dinner, we were on the front step of my house. Bea has a backyard frisbee and a front yard frisbee. We were playing with front yard frisbee this night when her right hind leg locked up and started having uncontrollable tremors and/or spasms. It scared her. It scared me.
I tried massaging her leg, knee, and hip. She seemed to not be in any pain, but the uncontrollable movement of her leg was bothering her the most. She sat at my feet, forgetting frisbee, and appeared frightened. This tore my heart out.
We had just did the USMC museum Dog Day’s event. The most common question I answered from the random people coming up to the booth was how old was Bea. The second most asked question was, what is their life expectancy. I gave the standard answer, which is 8 – 12 years old. Bea will be 9 years old next month, placing her in that range. I was reminded of that every single time I was asked both of these questions.
In somewhat of a mixed blessing, I never had the opportunity to say goodby to Clemmie. On one hand, I was spared the terrible final moments, yet on the other, I had no chance to say goodbye to a little girl I loved. Yet, with Bea, there are no illusions. It will be all me, and her, and the final choice.
It is a day I dread; for it is a day that I fear I will not have strength for.