|
A loving tribute from her Mom
Saturday, 2/4/06 - There's a new star in the heavens because the oldest, and in some ways the most beloved member of our hound family left us yesterday afternoon. She took with her the knowledge that she was loved by everybody who knew her. For the time being, this web page is private, her goodbye to family and dear friends. There are no links to it anywhere else. Later on it might be edited and become public, but right now the grief is too deep to share except with those who I know will understand it. Writing it is therapy for me, and hopefully will give comfort to other people who are mourning her loss. John and I are grieving, but we're also celebrating her life and saying prayers of thanks that we were so incredibly blessed as to be included in it. So please join in celebrating the life of a very special Greyhound. Laugh at the silly memories and shed a tear if you need to. I'm finding out I can do both at the same time. It's all okay. Of all the Greyhounds we have ever had, Cassidy was the one who usually made the most lasting impression. When people would visit, they might not remember any of the other dogs' names a year later, but they would always remember Cass clearly. I know of several fawn females that were adopted because their new families wanted a dog "just like Cassidy". They all got wonderful dogs, but there never has been or ever will be another one just like Cassidy, although as you'll read further on, there is one that's awfully close. Cassidy was not only strikingly beautiful, she was a true presence. The kind of dog you couldn't forget and couldn't help loving. If Cass sensed the smallest hesitation in a new person, she made it her personal mission to do whatever it took to make them laugh and become her new friend. I never knew her to fail at that mission. She knew she was beautiful, and she played that trump card shamelessly at every opportunity. The day she came to live with us (as a "foster", which lasted for about 2 days), she waltzed into the house and within five minutes had discovered and appropriated our bed. We found here there, ensconced right in the center, with a self-satisfied look on her face that clearly said "You can't get mad at me. I'm beautiful." Oh, how right that was! There's a reason why her caricature is on our "Classic Bitch" t-shirts. Then she hopped off the bed and introduced herself to CJ and Blarney, making it abundantly clear that she was now in charge. The two boys were the only hounds in the family back then, and they were delighted to have a girl in the house to shake things up, and shake them up she did, for the next 8 1/2 years. She was also intelligent, funny, and very loving. Her Daddy was her most favorite human in the world, but she also adored the rest of her family and close friends. Especially her Aunt Kathy and Uncle Tracy. And me, of course. But there were many other people she loved, and once she loved somebody, she never forgot them even if she didn't see them again for years. If you're reading this page today, you are probably one of the people she loved. If you never got to meet her, you're somebody she would have loved, or you wouldn't have been included in the email that brought you here. Maybe the limerick Connie Cassidy (her Cassidy Clan grandma) wrote for her way back when says it best... Kate and John thought two hounds were just fine, All of the pictures on this page were taken yesterday morning. It was a tough morning for me, knowing my time left with her was dwindling to hours and then minutes. But I realized that we didn't have enough pictures of her (do we ever have enough?) to represent so many years of being blessed by her presence in our lives. She still looked magnificent, so I hoped I could get just a few more good ones. So when I let the dogs out yesterday morning I took the camera. I'm glad I did. It will help me to remember that she was enjoying her life to the end. I think she would want me to share that with the people who loved her. She didn't look like she was almost 13 year old, did she? I KNOW she'd want me to share that! ;-) Only the white face belies her age, but she had a white face when she was 4. I hope there are mirrors in heaven. She will be thrilled to see that her battle scars are gone now. Some of you might remember that Cass was so enamored of her own reflection that we put a full length mirror in the hall in honor of her birthday a few years ago. I can just see her telling God He will just have to wait for her first audience with Him until she makes sure every hair is in place. And some of you will remember Cassidy's mirror parade in the dance studio all those years ago. I'm not sure, but I think Blarney is the only dog left that participated in "her" parade, so I suspect she already has all the others lined up and ready to march again. A couple of weeks ago, Cass started limping off and on. At first we were only mildly concerned. After all, as much as she refused to acknowledge it, she was an old lady. It was January, sometimes cold and damp. Arthritis was bound to start bothering her sometimes. And some days she didn't limp at all. Even the days when she limped some, she usually romped and played almost as vigorously as she always had. And mild pain relievers seemed to work pretty well. But about a week ago, a lump started coming up on her the front of her left front leg, right above the ankle joint. The lump was hard, and over the next few days I could see that it was growing. John and I held onto hope, but deep in my soul I knew. On Wednesday I knew we couldn't wait any longer to find out what was going on, so we got an appointment with the vet for the next morning. Before he even x-rayed it, Dr. Mahnken knew it was cancer, probably osteosarcoma, but the x-rays were taken for confirmation. Bless his heart, he knows me well enough that he never tries to sugar coat bad news. Those x-rays destroyed the thread of hope I was still trying to hang onto. The tumor couldn't have been clearer. But having suspected it for days, at least I wasn't shocked. Just heartbroken. Dr. Mahnken agreed with what John and I had already decided, that trying to delay the inevitable with any kind of treatment would have been terribly unfair to Cassidy at her age. He also agreed that letting her go very soon was better for her than risking the fracture that was almost inevitable within weeks or even days. Dr. M's estimate was 2-4 weeks, but we both knew it could be much sooner. John was out of state and out of cell phone range, and I couldn't reach him for about an hour, so I couldn't let her go right then, even though at that moment I was feeling relatively brave. I had to talk to him first, and I desperately hoped he'd be able to get home quickly so we could say goodbye to her together. When we talked that afternoon, he said he would try to get home by Saturday. But as I thought about it later that day, I realized that Dr. M had only seen the tumor once and had no way of judging how fast it was growing. I had seen it grow just over the span of a few days. He also wasn't really aware of how active - often downright rowdy - our old lady was, making a fracture that much more likely. In view of those things, I believed waiting more than a day or two would put Cass at risk of terrible pain. John and I talked again that night and he agreed. But he couldn't get here fast enough. I know that broke his heart, but I hope he knows that Cass never for one minute doubted that he adored her. He won't be home until sometime next week, but wherever he is right now, I know Cass is riding with him. She knows she left Mom in good paws, and that Daddy has no hound to look after him when he's on the road. Not that she wouldn't choose him before me, anyway. She's always been Daddy's girl, and that's always been okay. I talked to Tracy Thursday night at work and he said he could go with me to take Cass on her last ride. If John and I didn't already love Tracy like family, we would now. So yesterday morning I called Dr. M's office and asked if we could bring her in that afternoon. They usually require an appointment, but they were very understanding of the situation and just told me to call them when we were on the way to make sure Dr. M wasn't in the middle of something he couldn't stop. Thursday night and Friday morning were spent spoiling
Cassidy beyond her normal outrageous level. She had Frosty Paws,
beef stew, cheese, and hours with me stroking her, reminding her how much
she was loved, and telling her about the wonderful place where she would
soon find herself. She listened quietly as I told her that there
were huge open fields to run in, no leashes or fences because there were
no dangers. She would never be too cold or too hot, and it would
never rain or snow. I told her that Giz and CJ and all the other
family hounds who had gone before her would be there waiting to welcome
her, naming them all. She just gazed at me calmly until I mentioned
MONSTER. Of all the dogs When I let the dogs out the first time yesterday morning, Cassidy shot our the door and across the screen porch as if the lure had just passed by. The picture at the right may be of doggy butts, but I know I will always cherish it because she was running happily on the last day of her life. She was limping a little, but not enough to keep her from the running she always loved. Blarney was hot on her trail. He's always been so sensitive to the needs of those he loved. I think he somehow knew that Cass wasn't as strong as she let on because the last couple of days when I had the herd out in the yard, he would protect her. If the younger dogs started running and playing a little rough, he would position himself between them and her and even growl if they got too close. And if Cass herself would get too rambunctious, he would bark at her. But like me, he had no choice but to let Cassidy be Cassidy. I could have restricted her activity the last couple of days, but while I tried to encourage her to take it easy, I didn't try to restrict her. She would have been miserable. I could only balance the risk against the benefit of letting her enjoy her last hours as much as possible, and the benefits won out. We considered crating her Thursday night, but I knew she would spend the night wondering why she was banned from her usual spot on my bed. So she slept right where she always had.
When we got to the clinic, I went inside to let them know we were there. Dr. M was doing some blood work, so I had a few minutes alone with Cass. Tracy stayed in the waiting room, and I went back out and snapped a lead on Cass' collar for a walk around the yard. As always, she was delighted to be going for a walk, and danced at the end of the lead. She sniffed at every piece of p-mail and left replies for many. Then she hopped back in the van and I joined her on her blankets. She lay down and put her head in my lap so I could stroke her neck as I talked to her. I told her for the thosandth time how much she was loved and that there was nothing to be afraid of. Not that Cassidy feared much of anything, anyway. She seemed to be completely calm. In a few minutes, Dr M, his tech, and Tracy came outside. If such a heartbreaking event can be perfect, Cassidy's passing was. I started to move so Dr M and the tech could get to her more easily, but they told me to just stay where I was, with her head in my lap. The tech climbed around behind me and then Dr M climbed in. The tech was there to hold Cassidy if needed, but it wasn't. So instead she just started doing sort of a gentle massaging thing on Cass' back. Thinking back, it might have been some sort of T-touch thing. Tracy stood at the bumper. Dr M told me that Cass would only feel a tiny stick as the needle went in. I don't think she even felt that. It went in very smoothly and she never even flinched. Then he hooked up the first of three syringes. The first one was an anesthetic. I don't remember what the second was, but the third was the barbiturate that ends life. He explained to me that it was a 3-stage process, but my mind was on Cassidy a lot more than on what he was saying. I could feel her head get heavier on my leg as the anesthetic went in. Dr M's right hand slowly but steadily pushed the plunger on the syringe while his left hand stroked Cass' neck. He talked to her and to me the whole time. When the first syringe was empty, he checked her heart and was amazed to find that she was already almost gone. I couldn't see her breathing, and he could bearly detect a heartbeat. That told him that she had been much weaker than any of us had realized, much weaker than she was willing to let on. Dr M had just watched her through the office window as she trotted around his yard and then jumped back in the van. He said most dogs her age would have had to be helped into the van even if they were in good health, yet she leaped in like the athlete she had always been. But part of Cassidy's incredible strength, the thing that kept her so young all these years, was her absolute refusal to admit to or give in to any kind of weakness if she could possibly help it. But our old gal was approaching the end rapidly without our knowing it. Dr M doesn't think she would have lasted through the weekend. Thinking back now on the coughing and labored breathing, I expect the cancer had already spread and we just didn't know it. I can only thank God that we made the decision to send her on her way when we did. In retrospect, it's obvious to me that God was holding the whole situation in His hands all along. Nothing can make it easy, but it could have been so terribly much more difficult. I can't remember for sure, but I think he skipped the second syringe and went directly to the third, just to make sure the end was clean and final. He listened again to her heart and at 12:50 he told us she was gone. He stroked her again and said goodbye, patted me on the shoulder, and then it was as if he, the tech and Tracy all just vanished. I was alone with our beautiful blond. And now that my tears couldn't upset her, I gave into them. But only for a minute. I kissed her velvety face one last time and stood up. I felt a hand on my back then, and saw that Tracy had reappeared. I got my purse and we went inside to pay the bill. The receptionist was helping another client, so we were standing there waiting when Dr M came out from the back. He said "What are you doing still here? There is no charge for this. You're a good client and you take wonderful care of a lot of dogs. Go home and be with them." I was floored! Dr Mahnken is a little bit odd in some ways, but I have never met a more kind and compassionate vet. He gave me a hug and Tracy and I left. The crematorium is right on the way home, so that was our next stop. I had also brought Monkey's tiny little body. She has been in a coffee can in the garage freezer since May. She died on a Saturday, so there was nothing else to do with her until Monday, and after that we just kept putting it off. Needless to say, trips to the crematorium are rough. Tony's ashes were still at the crematorium waiting to be picked up. I paid the bill for the three of them, and then we were instructed to drive down to another building where they would take Cassidy's body. This is when Tracy was really a rock. John and I have done this a few times before. Usually there is a nice older man who deals with the animals being delivered. This time it was a youngish guy who looked like a reject from Deliverance. He disappeared, then came back on a lawn tractor pulling a small, dirty trailer. It was obvious that Cass was to be put on that trailer. Tracy lifted her gently out of the van and I grabbed one of her blankets to spread out on the trailer. Deliverance looked at me like I was nuts, but I told him I didn't need the blanket back and that he could just throw it away. Tracy lowered Cassie's body onto the blanket and then raised her butt and then her head, pulling the blanket to make sure she was properly cushioned. Of course we all knew she was gone and didn't know the difference. But Tracy knew it was important to me for her body to be treated tenderly. He handled her just the way John would have if he could have been there. I bent over to give her one last kiss, then turned away knowing I had just seen our gorgeous girl for the last time in this life. And I was okay. It was done. The awful anticipation was over. On the way home, Tracy and I reminisced about many funny things Cass had done over the years. I couldn't help laughing, even though it felt strange in the middle of so much sadness. But Cassidy would have wanted nothing more than for the people she loved to laugh. For the few of you who might not know Tracy or know who he is, he is our dearest friend in WV, and for all practical purposes, a member of the family. He's a Greyhound trainer who first discovered his love for the dogs years ago by adopting one from the track. He lived here with us for a couple of years, and still comes over a couple of days every week to turn out the adoption kennel for us, in addition to helping with various odd jobs around the place. He had never failed to be here for us when we need him. He helped build the puppy run. He has houndsat for us countless times. When we took the puppies to Texas in December, Tracy stayed here to take care of the rest of the dogs. He loves all of our dogs as if they were his own, and they all adore him. We finally got here, and Tracy stayed to keep me company and continue sharing Cassidy stories until he had to go back to work for afternoon turnout. I told him how much John and I both appreciated him being here for this, and how much Cass loved him. And I apologized for drafting him for such a sad job. Like John and me, he's been through this many times, but he told me this was a tough one because Cass had always been one of his favorites. That was when I noticed that his right eye was red rimmed, and of course he said he had something in it. Uh-huh. When Tracy was gone it was very very quiet in the house. The dogs were, and still are, very subdued. I talked to John and to KD on the phone, I turned out the adoption kennel and took the house dogs outside a couple of times. I answered a couple of emails, and then it was time for me to go to work. I knew work would be better for me than this too quiet house last night, so for once I was glad to go, even though part of me wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by my own dogs. But some of the dogs in the race kennel have become almost like my own, too. I was okay until the last race was over and I was back in the kennel to let the dogs out for their last turnout. When I opened Shifty's crate I lost it for a minute. Of all the dogs I've ever known, Shifty (Jax Almond Joy) looks AND acts the most like Cassidy. She's a beautiful fawn with a feminine body and face, but not so girly that she looks delicate or weak. Like Cass, that "look of eagles" is in her eyes. Her face is finely chiseled and strong. She finished out 2005 at the top of the track win list, and is the undisputed queen of the kennel, spoiled way beyond rotten, and a total diva. Sound familiar? Shifty has come to love me and can be very affectionate, but last night, for the first time, when I opened her door she licked the tip of my nose and I was just done. I put my arms around her and just for a few seconds I was holding my Cass one more time and the tears flowed. She must have been confused at my reaction, and I told her not to worry, that soon I would look at her and think of Cass and it would make me smile. Then she hopped down and trotted out to the pen to issue the night's orders to her subjects. Jeremy, I hope you're reading this and realize how much your little gal is loved. So our beautiful girl is gone, but she's still right here. She filled our house with her spirit the first minute she walked in, and it's still filled with it. She's everywhere around us and always will be. I miss her desperately, as I'm sure John does and will even more when he's home. But I'm okay and I think John is, too. We are surrounded by love, beauty and prayers. Yesterday was cloudy and gloomy all day, but last night the sky cleared and the stars were shining. I tried to figure out which star was Cassie's, but none of them were quite bright enough. Cass was more the Haley's Comet type. But I know she's out there somewhere. And to Lou: there are no words to thank you enough for entrusting us with her care. Back in September of '97 we had no inkling of what lay in store for us with that one silly hound. We didn't know what an adventure life with her would be, or how she would influence the direction our lives would take or how she would change whole shape of our family. And we could never have anticipated how deeply losing her would hurt or we might have chickened out. But it's been a dance I wouldn't have missed for anything. Until we meet again, Cassie Doodle, enjoy your wings, remember how much we love you, and don't nip MONSTER's butt too hard.
|
Cass has known in her long life, Monnie was
by far her closest pal. The two of them adored each other. And
when I said his name her ears went straight up. The mental image of
Cassidy's and MONSTER's reunion has helped me cope. I know the two
of them are tearing around heaven with her nipping playfully at his skinny
butt, just like they did here. Cass was a pretty good racer
(Wheeling and Tri-State), and Mon never made it beyond morning schooling,
but he would goad her into a game of chase and she would usually let him
stay just ahead of her so she could playfully chastise him for being the
little monster he was. He was five years younger, and I think she
sort of adopted him as her little boy. She has such a nurturing side
that I always thought she would have made a wonderful mama
dog. 
I
will always remember that turnout and the next one after breakfast.
The first one was pretty rowdy, as always. And except for a few
coughs and very slightly labored breathing that I'd never heard before,
Cass seemed as healthy as she was as a 4 year old. But after
breakfast they were all more sedate, and Cassidy seemed to demand a family
meeting. She seldom barked, but yesterday morning she stood and
barked at the other dogs until she had all their attention. It took
her a little while to divert them from their other pursuits, but in a
minute or so they were all standing still and watching her. Then
there was silence and nobody moved until Cass started walking back to the
door, followed quietly by the others. Call me crazy, but I really
believe she was giving final instructions. I don't know what jobs
she assigned except that Blarney was clearly left in charge of taking care
of me. Ever since we got back from the vet yesterday afternoon he
has been glued to my side. Not demanding attention as he often does,
but just gently touching me now and then to remind me that he's there if I
need him. The rest of the hounds have been exceptionally quiet and
well behaved. Last night was very peaceful. They're still
quiet today, and at this moment Blarney is lying right behind my
chair. He and Bug slept with me last night. Cass may have
appointed Bug as the new lady of the house. That's not clear
yet. The pack will undoubtedly be off balance for a while. As much
as Bug is like her brothers CJ and LB, I've never thought of her as a
leader. But she does have a mind of her own, and she doesn't take
any nonsense from anybody. Maybe Cass could see that the leadership
qualities were there and Bug just deferred to her position as Queen of the
house. 
Tracy arrived a little before noon
yesterday, and we made Cass a comfortable bed in the back of the van. She had several layers of
blankets, two big cookies and two brand new screaming monkeys.
Normally she went completely bonkers over a screaming monkey, but
yesterday she just buried them and the cookies under her blankets and rode
in quiet dignity for the 30 minute drive. Did she know where she was
going? On a logical level, it's impossible. But everybody who
loves and understands Greyhounds knows that logic and possiblity often
have little to do
with the things they somehow know. That's why I think she called the
family meeting.