Cosmos of Kate

I vividly recall a particular moment at the lunch table in grade school when a fellow student was polling everyone sitting nearby “would you rather kill a person or an animal?” WTF? Kids… amiright? To which I immediately answered, without hesitation, “a person.” I could not fathom harming a sweet, helpless animal, but even at that age, there were plenty of people I could think of that I didn’t much care for. I could more easily see myself, if ever NEEDING to make that decision, sparing the life of an animal. Does this sound morbid? Perhaps. Does it sound like me? Absolutely. Anyone in my close orbit knows what animals, especially domesticated pets, mean to me.

Growing up in a hunting family was difficult at times. I hated the idea of any animal dying, especially intentionally by the hand of someone I knew and loved… but I really liked eating the meat. Later in life I would end up hunting for a few years myself, but at that point I had come to understand the circle of life, and understood the difference between hunting to put food on the table, and hunting just for sport.

I have been drawn to animals of all kinds since my memories were mine to keep. Some of my first memories are of the pets in my life at the time. One in particular was a blue heeler/pug mix dog named Brutus. My parents got him as a puppy for my brother when I was born, so we had grown up together. That being said, Brutus was not the friendly type of domesticated dog. I will never know what caused his behavior because I was too young to understand such things back then, but I will always wonder if he was just born with certain tendencies, or if something happened to him to make him that way. The funny thing is, I specifically remember making the decisions I did one particular day, and knowing what the consequences would be, but being curious enough to still follow through with my actions.

Sitting on the porch next to him, I hugged Brutus as tightly as I could around his neck, attempting to show my affection for him. He immediately began growling in my ear. Most children probably would have taken this as a sign to stop hugging the dog, but in my curious child brain all I thought was “I wonder what would happen if I hugged him harder.” I already knew the answer, yet I went through with it anyway. Several seconds later I was screaming and crying, running inside the house to my parents with blood dripping down my face.

They were shocked by the sight of me and asked what had happened. Another decision I vividly recall making that day was to lie. I told them I had fallen down the stairs and hit my face… twice… because there were two marks on my face (from his top and bottom jaws). I knew in that moment, if I told them the truth, they would make sure Brutus didn’t live to see another day, at least that’s what I told myself. Realizing this, I had no choice but to lie to save my friend, my pet. I didn’t care that he had just bitten me, and I knew deep down that it was my fault for not listening when he told me “No!” I did not want my friend to die, especially if it would be my fault! My parents took me to the emergency room where I had multiple stitches in my face where Brutus had bit me, somehow believing the farce I had conjured up for them in my child brain. It was not until many years later that I let the truth of that day slip in a conversation and stunned both of my parents.

One would think being bitten by a dog at that age would have made me fear them, but it almost seemed to have the opposite effect. I resonated with animals, especially my pets. I understood what they seemed to be feeling, even if I didn’t know how to respect it at that age. I also recall doing things that my cats didn’t appreciate, but to this day still don’t understand why I made the decisions I did. Are all children as curious as I was, doing things they know they shouldn’t, just to see what would happen?

We had one other pet dog after Brutus eventually lost his life (due to biting more children, killing several cats and just being an asshole in general). When we went to the pound to look at dogs, I was instantly in tears upon entering the facility, hearing the dogs barking, knowing that most of them would likely lose their lives because no one wanted them. I recall my mother trying to console me when we saw Jake. He was a Rottweiler/Lab mix and was the only dog NOT barking. We asked to see him and got to bring him outside to see how he would bond with us. I was petting him, and began loving him immediately. My mom asked if I would feel better if we brought Jake home with us that day. Yes… yes I would. I could at least save one of those dogs from death that day.

Jake was the BEST dog and family pet. He was calm, sweet, and an overall love bug. He was with us for the majority of formative years, from roughly fifth grade all the way through college. I had moved away for my first job as a nurse in Portland when Jake became ill and his body started failing him. He could no longer make it outside to potty, and when he tried, he would fall down and couldn’t get up by himself. We were having Christmas at my aunt and uncle’s that year, which meant no one could watch Jake over the holiday, and we knew the inevitable was quickly approaching anyway. My parents made the decision to euthanize him several days before Christmas. Being away from home, living my new life hours away, and knowing that my baby Jake was dying was absolute torture.

Mom and Dad also could not bear what life was like without a dog and soon after the new year, decided to get a yellow lab puppy named Hunter. He was one of the sweetest dogs I have ever known. I finally got to experience life with an actual puppy (something I had always wanted) by visiting my parents often. It was so much fun watching Hunter grow up. It was several years later that I moved into a house with my brother, one he had just purchased, and asked him if I could get a dog.

I remember the first time I saw Lincoln, trotting across the parking lot of Petsmart, coming to see me because I had seen his profile online and thought he looked like the perfect pet for me. He was a Schnauzer mix of some sort, but mainly just looked like a Schnauzer. I instantly fell in love with him, sitting on the floor of the store so he could get to know me better. I brought him home that day and when he saw my brother (all 6’9″ of him) for the first time, Lincoln proceeded to release his bowels all over the floor. Needless to say my brother was not happy with this initial introduction. Over the years though, Lincoln and Matt would become close friends, cohabitating in harmony.

Lincoln was my absolute best friend in the world. He and I did everything together. At that point in my career I was only working three days/week, so we had plenty of time to go hiking and pursue other random adventures. A few years into our relationship, I entered into a romantic courtship with someone who also had a dog, a Rottweiler named Oden that reminded me a lot of Jake. We moved in together and Lincoln and Oden very quickly became the best of doggy friends, and the three of us (the dogs and myself) were thick as thieves. Oden became my dog as well, he was unbelievably sweet, mild and gentle. Both dogs were incredibly attached to me, and I to them. We were like the Three Musketeers at times.

One day when I came home from work, both dogs were beside themselves with excitement that I had returned (a feeling I sometimes wonder if only dogs have for me). I went to greet them on the back patio when Oden, with excitement he couldn’t contain, jumped into the air, twisted around and fell awkwardly down to the patio, smacking his head on the concrete. I was worried at first, but he immediately stood up and I was relieved… until he fell back down and started seizing. He did not survive the accident. The amount of grief we all felt with this trauma was indescribable, and to this day it is one of the most traumatic events of my life. Lincoln took Oden’s death the hardest of all, crying uncontrollably when we were away at work, pacing the house constantly looking for Oden. He ended up on doggy antidepressants for a while to get him through the emotional turmoil he was enduring.

Shortly after that horrific accident, we moved to a new house, one that I had bought. My then partner was with us for a couple more years until he moved out. Good riddance. I fully realized after he had vacated my property, and my life, just how much influence he had forced onto my relationship with Lincoln. With it just being the two of us again, Lincoln and I were able to wholly reunite, making our relationship stronger than ever. He was with me for another three years before developing kidney failure and quickly declining in health. Being a nurse, I was even able to give him fluid boluses under the skin him at home, prolonging the inevitable as long as I could.

When the time came, I opted for in-home euthanasia….

Those who have had a dog and had to go through this understand, but consciously making the decision to end your dog’s (aka: best friend, soulmate, fur child) life is fucking UNBEARABLE. I laid on the floor with him as he quietly slipped away, and the vet listened with her stethoscope, telling me “…and now his heart has stopped. He is gone.” Just writing these words is a knife through my heart.

People who don’t have pets, don’t like pets, or don’t see their pets as family members will never understand the amount of love or grief a person goes through when losing a pet. I did not feel like I lost a “pet” that day, I felt like I lost my child. My baby that I had cared for, loved, grown with, who had been my therapist, my best friend and my constant companion for 12 years was gone, and once again I was alone. I can’t put that amount of grief into words. I waited a year after Lincoln’s death to get another dog, wanting to give myself time to grieve, and to honor Lincoln’s life. That was the single most difficult year of my life.

The day I brought Newton home as a 10 week old puppy was one filled with excitement, nervousness and uncertainty. I remember bringing him in the house and carrying him around to look at everything, saying to him “This is our life, buddy. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us.” Three years into our life together, our bond is completely unbreakable. Newton is the first dog I have raised from a puppy by myself. No, he is not just a dog, he is truly, in every respect, my fur child.

We started by going to obedience classes, knowing it is the responsible thing to do as a dog owner. Newton quickly learned all the tricks of the trade, performing superbly for his tiny treats. However when no treats were present.. he suddenly couldn’t remember what the words coming out of my mouth meant. Funny how that works. Being alone with him in our home, I quickly realized that while it’s nice to have a dog that obeys my every command, that wasn’t quite what I wanted. I wanted a partner in crime, a buddy who can make some of his own decisions, share snacks with me, cuddle in front of the TV, and decide for himself how he wanted to express his feelings. We settled into this life of minimal “obedience” well, respecting each other, loving each other, and being our own entities. The issues came when being around other people. I was reminded that most of them don’t see dogs like I do, they see them as pets who should obey their masters.

It has been difficult to try and reign Newton in around other people, since I did a “poor job” of training him. He gets overly excited, he jumps, he licks, he gets in your face with all of his enthusiasm, he brings his toys and drops them on you, he barks at people, other dogs and every delivery truck in existence. No, he is not the perfect “pet.” But he is the absolute best, sweetest, cutest, most affectionate, protective, cuddly, and loyal companion I could have ever hoped for. He is mine, and I am his. And we share this crazy life together.

A year ago, after having had Newton for two years, Puff (aka Poofah, Loofah, Puffaluffagus, Puff the Magic Dragon) entered our lives. Had I ALWAYS WANTED a reptile as a pet? Yes. Had I ever been allowed to have one when I was a child? Absolutely not. Puff came to us with me knowing very little of how to care for a Bearded Dragon. As per usual, I researched furiously to make sure I was doing everything I could to give her the best life possible. Finding out everything she came to me with was entirely wrong, I remedied it by getting her an entirely new terrarium setup, joining groups online to gain more information and even ordering bugs online.

Several months into life with Puff, I noticed (with my keenly honed nursing observation skills) that she looked unhealthy. No matter what I did or what I changed, she wasn’t looking better. I finally found a reputable exotic vet (not an easy feat, by the way) and took her in for a visit. Hundreds of dollars and several visits later, it was determined she had a mass in her abdomen and would require surgery, which would cost THOUSANDS of dollars with no pet insurance. I had a decision to make. I am learning throughout my life that no decision is easy, but these are absolutely the most difficult.

I sat alone with Puff in the vet’s office, her on the metal table, me on a spinning stool staring into her eyes and gently stroking her back. I asked her quietly, “what do we do here, Puff? What do you think we should do?” Her head tilted sideways as it always does when I say her name. She looked at me with her sweet, sassy green eyes and telepathically told me “it’s not my time to go yet. Please help me.” No, she didn’t really communicate directly into my brain, but she did communicate that message into my soul. There was no way, no matter the cost, that I could consciously make a decision to let my baby die when I had an option that could save her.

Puff had a hysterectomy, removing her ovaries and her ability to lay eggs, which was one thing that was slowly killing her. In addition to this, she was found to have a free floating cancerous tumor in her belly. She had a bit of a rocky start to recovery, but slowly started getting better, her incision healing, her overall color looking better, the sunken fat pads on her head started filling back in, and she wasn’t frantically trying to get somewhere to lay eggs anymore. She was healthy. My baby girl was finally healthy, thriving and sassy as ever because of the decision I made as a lizard mom to spend thousands of dollars on surgery for her. I consider this to be one of the best decisions I have ever made.

Newton, Puff and I are a happy little family unit of cohabitating species. It may seem odd to some, weird to others, but when you find a life that you love and that works for you… hold on to it, no matter what the rest of the world sees or feels. I know in my heart of hearts where my love and loyalties lie, and it’s not just with my human family. My humans mean the world to me, but they do not cohabitate with me. They are not with me day in and day out, seeing my ups and downs, living my joys and my sorrows, giving me their love and loyalty. My babies are. My dog and my dragon. Newton and Puff. This is my family. My heart. Don’t ever underestimate the value and importance of non-human connections, how they can change your life and feed your soul.