Rescued March 3, 2001
Died October 1, 2001
Margaret had originally been an URGENT posting for us, and we hoped she would get adopted from the Maryland shelter where she had been brought in as a stray. It was not to be. She quickly ran out of time, and we had to get her out of there. Many were worried about her and were very relieved when they learned she was with us. So were we.
We had high hopes for Margaret's future. She was extremely popular with our readers. We received applications from her website posting alone. She was spectacular at any Adoption Show she attended; she was Little Miss Socialite, everyone's darling. We had some good applications following that.
Before Margaret could be adopted, however, we scheduled an appointment to have a lump on her leg removed. It had just been noticed. When Margaret was taken to one of our finest vets, he first had to get her serious heart condition under some form of control, which also meant trying to get her kidneys stabilized before he could begin to probe the lump. Once Margaret was well enough -- and I use the terms loosely -- to operate, he uncovered a Mast Cell Tumor, which was malignant.
Margaret had three deadly conditions working against her: cancer, congestive heart failure affecting her enlarged heart, and lack of proper blood flow to her kidneys. Many thought we should have put her down immediately. Her foster parents did not see it that way. Her foster mother's heart, in particular, was already gone on Margaret, and she was determined to do all she could to help her, to make her as comfortable as possible until she couldn't do it any longer.
And she did. Margaret had a beautiful few months in her new forever home. She was very much loved. What follows is a letter I wrote to our volunteers to let them know of her passing. I will let that stand as a final memorial to a precious little girl.
We lost Margaret a few weeks ago on Monday, October 1. She died peacefully in the arms of someone she loved, looking into the eyes of someone who loved her just as much. It's been very difficult for Cheryl, as I know many of you can imagine.
For awhile, it looked like we were winning the battle against the mast cell tumor that was attacking Margaret's little body. Sadly, too much damage had already been done, and though she lived well right up until the end, Margaret left us, leaving a terrible hole behind her.
Margaret spent the previous Saturday with many of us at the Oregon Ridge Walkathon where we had a rescue table. She had a good day at Oregon Ridge Park, from all we could tell. She clearly was unable to get up and run around and socialize as was so much her way at other events, but she managed to stand and lumber around for short stints to visit the people she wanted to see when she decided to do so. Always on her terms, even then, and that was very okay with all of us.
For the most part, each of us went to her at different moments and spent some quality time with her. Margaret very much enjoyed the fried chicken that Kathy kept feeding her from her own lunch. I slipped her buttered biscuits when Jean wasn't looking. :) I will also remember lying beside her in the grass, feeding her French fries, which she ate with relish. Cheryl told me she'd already feasted on pancakes and scrambled eggs before she even got there. I couldn't believe she didn't give it all up in the car, but it never happened. For that, I am deeply grateful. She enjoyed every morsel to the last. If her lungs could have kept pace with her stomach, she would have lived forever!
Unfortunately, that was not to be.
In spite of her healthy appetite, it was evident that breathing was a struggle for Margaret. I don't think I'll ever forget the sight of Cheryl and Justin walking toward us at Oregon Ridge. It was quite a haul from the parking lot, and Justin was juggling three wild mixes -- Rex, Chelsea and Sadie -- all pulling in different directions on various leashes. Cheryl followed close behind with Margaret in her arms. Well, the pace got farther and farther behind as the threesome pulled Justin faster and harder, and Margaret's lead weight no doubt increased with each step up the hill. I was most impressed with both of them. Mr. and Mrs. Trooper and their furry menagerie.
When they got to us, they spread out a fluffy blanket, and our little princess sat and watched all the comings and goings with a lot of satisfaction. She sniffed fresh air and visited for a long time with all kinds of people and other dogs. She really had a great day. We all decided that if her appetite remained good, and her little tail still wagged, there was no reason to consider helping her leave us any sooner than God intended.
When the show was over, they took Margaret home, and Justin shared his pasta dinner with her! Cheryl spent the whole next day doting on her, lying with her, just being with her. She called me and said she'd planned to run errands, but instead she was going to stay put -- for Margaret. Moreover, she was stockpiling magazines so she would not have to walk around much. Margaret had a habit of following wherever Cheryl went, and it was clearly too difficult for her to do much of that on Sunday.
That was the morning.
In the afternoon, Cheryl called to tell me they'd ordered Chinese carryout for lunch, and Margaret shared all the trimmings with them, much to the confusion and chagrin of the other furry ones in Cheryl's house. I'm sure they had a taste, but it was Margaret's day, and she was going to enjoy every last bit of it.
I phoned in the evening, and Justin said both girls were hanging in there. Margaret, however, was "huffing and puffing along." We wondered how much longer she could make it. We knew the end was near. Cheryl's sleepless night with Margaret at her side, probably in her arms, evidenced the same understanding.
By morning, Margaret could not even crawl over to Cheryl to get the ham Cheryl was taking from the refrigerator. Had she been even remotely herself, Margaret would have been right there, begging as ever. The breathing had gotten so much worse, Cheryl knew she had to go to the vet.
Margaret slept most of the car ride, and in the vet's office, she would not lift her head. Her heart and lungs were giving out. Things could have been done to prolong the inevitable, but the suffering would have been great. They knew it was time.
I'm amazed I've gotten this far with the story, and I can't say more about the aftermath, for Cheryl's sake more than anyone's. I imagine there are few dry eyes reading this, anyway. We all were touched by Margaret in so many ways, it's impossible for me to properly articulate them. She was, in a very real sense, everyone's baby.
It's heartbreaking that Margaret was already suffering from the mast cell tumor when we got her into rescue, so she was never really healthy the entire time in Cheryl's care. But I am positive that for the seven plus months following her rescue, Margaret lived to the fullest and enjoyed every day, even the days she struggled with treatments we kept trying in an effort to find a remission for her.
We prayed for miracles, and perhaps we got them, in a way. There were so many wonderful moments with Margaret, so many funny ones, too. I think of Cheryl's stories of digging in the yard (a favorite pastime, I'm told) and all the times Margaret "got mad." I can still recall her watering my shoe that day at Pet Depot (when she was the toast of the show, and we had offers from people wanting very much to adopt her). Barbara M. was calling, "Valerie, Valerie, look down!" while I was talking to a prospective adopter and not, heaven forbid, paying full attention to little Miss M. This was her way of conveying displeasure. Cheryl rushed over, saying "no, no, Margaret!" but laughing in spite of herself. Everyone laughed, even the woman with the wet shoe.
"She gets like this when she is ignored," Cheryl told us, wiping up the puddle around my shoe. Ha ha, indeed. We all exchanged looks of uncertainty about Margaret's future adoptability under such circumstances (all of us but Cheryl, anyway). I privately thanked heaven that Cheryl found her little habit amusing. . .
I wish her protest reaction had been the reason that Margaret never was "adopted," but as you know, her adoptability was out of the question for another reason. We'd found the lump on her front foreleg, and the roller coaster ride began. . .
The truth is that Margaret was already adopted, even at that point. Cheryl was gone on the girl, and Justin knew it was pointless to argue. Margaret managed to win him over, too, which says a lot about both of them, really. Let's just say that Margaret had her issues with Justin, and Justin deserves a medal for his patience and gentleness from the beginning until the end. He was there every step of the way, and this hasn't been easy on him either.
I think Cheryl works daily at focusing on anything but the tatters in her heart over the loss for which you're never prepared. Not if you love. You can think you are ready. You can know it is coming. The illness can go on and on, and the struggle can be stressful, draining, wearing. It makes no difference. When you lose one you love, you find out there are no reserves, no buffers, no forms of release or relief. There's no way around the pain and grief and loss. You just have to go through it.
And no, you're never the same.
I don't have any words of comfort for Cheryl and Justin because nothing really can make this better. I sure do thank them for all they did for Margaret in the long battle for her life. They made so many days happy for Margaret; they did everything they could for her and then some. Many more days would have been wonderful, but they made the most of the precious time they had, and that time sure made a difference to Margaret. Thank God she found her way to them. I shudder to think how she might have suffered if we hadn't found out about her.
I like to think of Margaret breathing easy now and waiting, munching on whatever her little heart desires until she is reunited with her family again. Farewell to our precious little angel. She's gone for now, but never forgotten. And I think we'll all see her again some day, if Cheryl will share her. . .
This page was written by
Valerie Macys
vmacys@CockerAdoption.org
