Posted November 5, 1999

I am heartbroken to hear of precious Sheila's death, just a little more than one year after she finally found a loving home, following a lifetime of misery. John Kennedy once said that "life isn't fair." It surely seems so for this little angel. Words cannot express the gratitude I feel for her adoptive father, who already lost Queenie, one of his other adoptive charges. He also took poor Jitterbug home to love. We hoped everyone would have more time, especially Sheila. Her story is best told by the man who loved her the most.

I think the thing I will always remember about sweet Sheila is her smile. If I ever wondered if there were such things as miracles, that smile removed my doubts. For Sheila and eight other dogs were rescued by the CSAC from twelve years of horrible neglect in a muddy Virginia backyard. Their lives were spent with only one dog house for shelter, large enough for only one dog -- through freezing winters and broiling summers, without veterinary care, with hit-or-miss food and water? Well, when was the last time it rained?

One of Sheila's rescuers said that when she first saw Sheila and the other dogs, she didn't even know what kind of animals she was looking at. They had lived their entire lives ungroomed in the dirt and their own filth. It was so bad, it took two days to get each dog cleaned up, and then they had to resort to wire cutters because the dogs' coats were so overgrown.

But out of that horror, Sheila emerged like sunshine. And that smile.

I will always remember the first time I saw Sheila. I went to her foster home to meet her, with my two dogs, to see if she would like to come home with us. As I closed the gate behind me, her foster mom was trying to round up the rowdies tearing around the yard to move them inside so we could have a quiet introduction. There was one dog sitting between them and me, watching the entertainment with an air of amusement. She turned and saw me and immediately walked over. And there was that smile.

When her foster mom came over, I asked, "Is that Sheila?" She smiled and said it was, and Sheila and I looked at each other, and it was love. Everybody got along fine, and we went home together. As Sheila settled in, she used to love to put her head down and push against me as I scratched the back of her neck. Her other pleasure was to roll over and have her tummy rubbed. Then she'd look at me, I'd look at her, and she'd jump up and with her thumping, rolling gallop, run to the other end of the hall, stop abruptly, look at me, I'd look at her, then back she'd come and throw herself in front of me. I'd rub her tummy, she'd look at me, I'd look at her, and well, this could go on for quite awhile.

A physical indicated that, even though she was a senior (about 12), Sheila was not "old." The early stages of normal geriatric problems were present, but a sweet personality and good energy were all anyone saw. And so it seemed that I could hopefully offer Sheila many years of comfort, happiness, and love to try to make up in some small way for all she had suffered her whole life until that point.

Over the next year and a half, Sheila continued to do well on her physicals and semi-annual blood work updates and other checkups. This past summer, we identified an additional heart problem to be monitored, but it did not call for any immediate action, and everything else looked very good. Just six weeks ago, her blood work came back with excellent results. It seemed we were on the right track.

Sunday brought a noticeable change in her, however, with a lack of appetite, an elevated and fluctuating temperature, and obvious discomfort. We thought it might be a chill from her bath the previous day and/or the heart problem starting to manifest itself. Periodically, she would recover and appear fine, which seemed to support those conclusions. Our wonderful vet of over 20 years, who normally does surgeries on Mondays (and only Mondays, letting the other vets handle appointments) made a special appointment to see Sheila.

He was puzzled because she had become very uncomfortable again, and he couldn't match the severity of her discomfort with the recent lab work and what he could detect. He re-ran the labwork and took new x-rays. As soon as he put the x-rays on the viewer, the problem was obvious. In only six months, poor Sheila's lungs had become nothing but solid cancer. In a mere 48 hours, Sheila had gone from being a healthy, happy girl with years of life ahead of her, to a critical case with an extremely poor prognosis.

The vet admitted her for further preparatory tests the next day with a specialist. When I picked her up that evening, I was heartsick to see how bad she looked. Finally, about one in the morning, I decided that we would only do the ultrasound-guided biopsy and take our best shot based on those results. I just couldn't see putting her through more, and I didn't think she could last through a lot of tests, anyway. By about 2:30, as I watched her, I decided against any tests and planned to ask the vet to take his best guess and medicate her for comfort only. But by 3:00, I knew there was only one choice left and reconciled myself that the only way I could help my little lady was to book her final appointment.

I went upstairs to make some coffee and get the other pooches fed. Within seconds, I heard very heavy, raspy breathing from downstairs. I ran down the stairs and found Sheila struggling to breathe. Picking her up, I tried to ease her breathing, but she died a moment later.

I have never understood how some people can look down on animals generally, especially our companion animals, as "dumb" or unworthy of our greatest love and care. For me, our pets are family who, through their constant, unquestioning love, forgiveness, and loyalty, exhibit the qualities we're supposed to show to each other, but far too seldom do.

Sometimes I've tried to picture my dogs, like Sheila, in their previous situations -- freezing in brutal winters, feeling awful because of no vet care, needless hunger raking their insides. And then I think of their unlimited and unrestrained love. That's why I think it is so fitting for such a sweet soul as Sheila to leave her suffering in this world behind on All Soul's Day.

'til later, Sweetie.