Goldie's Last Days

I called Mom at our usual time and she sounded distressed.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“I…I…fell,” she whimpered.

“How’d that happen?”

“I tripped on the rug in the kitchen!”

“Did you get hurt?”

“No broken bones. Just my shoulder’s in pain.”

“Mom you need to be more careful. Get rid of that rug!”

“No, no, I flipped it over. It was just the edge that got me.”

A few days later I called her again.

“I…I…fell again.”

“Again! What happened this time?”

“I fell walking Goldie.”

“Goldie!”

“I tripped over her and fell. Landed right on my shoulder again. It hurts worse.”

“Mom, maybe you should get rid of the dog.”

“No, no! I love her. She’s my best friend.”

“Okay, but when she becomes too much of a burden, you should. She’s 15 years old…”

“But I’ll miss her so much.”

“Well, get someone to walk her then.”

“Okay.”

A few days later I get her back on the phone.

“I’ve got another problem.”

“What?” I ask.

“The dog is pooping everywhere. Something is wrong with her. The vet gave her antibiotics but its not helping. She pooped all over the rug. And I checked into someone else walking her. It would be too expensive.”

“You need to get rid of her, Mom. Goldie’s been with you a long time, but sometimes you have to do it.”

“But…but…I can’t…”

A few days later she finally had a change of heart after more rounds of diarrhea. It was a Friday night when she called me about 7:00.

“I’ve made up my mind. I guess Goldie goes tomorrow.” She sighed sorrowfully. “I made an appointment with the vet for 10:30. Can you be here by then?”

I thought about my Saturday morning shopping trip with my client. “Yeah, I’ll have to cancel my job to go, but I guess it’s all right. Don’t worry, Mom. I will be there.”

The next morning I got up early and hoped the traffic wouldn’t be snail-like. Fortunately, there was some sort of Highway Patrol funeral going on and every entrance to I-4 was blocked by men on motorcycles so I was able to get to Orlando with hardly any problem at all. By 10:15, I was there just in time to see the groomer bringing the dog back to the house after holding her overnight.

I grabbed her and held her. The dog looked so skinny and frail, but still very energetic. I walked her one more time and noticed how all the azaleas were wilted since they had been in bloom a month ago.

We got the dog in the Cadillac, but she needed help, and mom got in the back seat with her. I squeezed the car out of the narrow one-car garage and we crept down the back alley to the street.

“How do we get to this place?”

“Go down Aloma.”Mom  mumbled petting and hugging the dog.

“Is it in Oviedo?” I asked as I went down Semoran to the intersection of the two roads and turned right.

“Yes. Right there next to the fruit stand. You know where that is.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Turn right at the bank.”

After I drove around in circles a few times and we yelled back and forth a few more times we finally pulled up at the vet around 12:00.

We got out and Goldie jumped out too, and entered the smelly, not-too-clean waiting room. Dogs and their owners were there under happier circumstances. We were ushered into a side room to wait for the end. The vet came in and gave Goldie a tranquilizer shot. She calmed down a little and waited like she was ready for something. He came back and put her up on a table and she rested her head on my hand and closed her eyes. He gave her a big shot of pink stuff. In a matter of a few minutes she was gone. Not a peep out of her. I slipped my hand back out and we bowed our heads and prayed.

As we left we both cried. All I could whisper was: “all dogs go to heaven…” to the receptionist.

And we went out to the Chinese restaurant that night to comfort ourselves in our grief. We’re sure going to miss a cute blonde Cocker Spaniel named Goldie.