Canine Connections–Cuddles and Chessney

The Pug on my lap snored.  Seventeen pounds of pugloaf created a numbness in my feet, and even though the wait to see the vet for her urinary tract infection was long, I loved seeing all the other wonderful pets coming in and out.  The sassy Schnauzer to my left was summoned back about twenty minutes after I’d sat down.  During our wait, I made friends with the silky white gal, and her mom showed me photos of her sister (another Schnauzer) and two brothers (Boston Terriers).  The lady to the right of me held her tiny Yorkie who was in for a steroid shot.  She laughed as she told about all the boys in her family—sons and grandsons—and even the handsome fella on her lap was a boy.  “Is yours a girl?”  She asked.  “Yes, and a diva at that!” I answered.  We both laughed.  Chessney kept snoring. 

The bell on the door jingled and I turned to see who would be joining us in the crowded waiting room.

A beautiful old gal with a rust-colored coat and eyes wide from cataracts waddled in behind a tall lady and in front of a woman carrying a baby in a carrier—her entourage had obviously accompanied her.  She panted and appeared to check out everyone in the waiting room—perhaps searching faces to see if she recognized anyone.  Perhaps curious about the furballs on laps or lying on the floor by their owners’ feet.

Her name was Cuddles.  I heard the Tall Lady tell the receptionist in the back that she’d not been to this vet in a while, and her address had probably changed from the one they had on file.  The receptionist called out the one on file.  “No, that’s my old one…” she said, then proceeded to give her the new one.

Cuddles walked as far as her lead would allow on the other side of the room.  Sniffing.  Greeting.  Slowly exploring her environment. I heard the receptionist ask, “Do you want her ashes?” 

My throat constricted.  Don’t look at Cuddles!  Don’t get attached to her!  Look away!  Don’t let that first tear fall!  I felt sucked into a vortex, stuck between wanting to offer condolences and support and wanting to run around back where I saw goats in a pin and bawl like a baby–no one would see me there.

I didn’t hear the Tall Lady’s answer.

The woman with the baby looked around the Tall Lady’s shoulder and said, “I will be in there with her.”

The receptionist comes over with a paper to sign, and it was then that the Tall Lady let the tears flow.  I heard hushed communication between the worker and her, an “I’m sorry” and an “I know it’s hard,”—I was thankful for the obvious compassion.

The Tall Lady sits beside me and takes the baby in the carrier onto her lap, and hands the lead to who I learned is her daughter.  She immediately goes into “Mimi” mode and her tears are turned to smiles.  The infant with the giant blue eyes was her grandbaby—full of smiles and the cutest dimples you ever saw.  The Yorkie Mom and I focused on the baby and spoke of her sweetness.  To be honest, I was thankful for the distraction. We asked the baby’s age.  Her name.  How many grandbabies the Tall Lady has. 

Cuddles was on the other side, still checking out the other patients.  Two snapped at her.  Everyone laughed because both irritable pooches were fewer than 10 pounds.  One reprimanded their tiny pooch, “She [referring to Cuddles] will eat you alive!”

I was doing okay redirecting my thoughts.  Not ruminating on what was to come for the sweet old girl.  Then here she came, waddling over between the Tall Lady and me.  She approached the still-sleeping Pug, and the Tall Lady said, “Cuddles, she’ll snap at you, too!”  I laughed.  “She doesn’t know how to do that—no worries—she will love Cuddles.”  More laughter.

Chessney awakened from the touch of Cuddles’ nose to hers.  Her snoring stopped.  She just sat still…barely touching noses with her new acquaintance.  Cuddles panting paused, they locked eyes, and I reached down to stroke her soft, fluffy head.  “You’re a sweet girl, yes, you are,” I said.  The Tall Lady told us she had been such a wonderful companion, and she’d just reached that point….kidney failure, unreliable legs….

She wiped her tears.  I stifled mine.

I ran the back of my hand against Cuddles’ muzzle.  Chessney leaned in and touched noses with her one more time and lingered just a second longer, right before a lady came out of the door and called Chessney’s name.  I stood, shook my feet a bit to get the feeling back in them, and headed to the exam room, petting Cuddles one more time as I went….

I don’t pretend to know what dogs think.  I choose to believe they know things on a level that we don’t–I’ll believe that until the day I take my last breath.  And if there was any doubt about it before, this interaction in the waiting room made me believe it even more.

Cuddles and Chessney connected on a canine level, and I was privy to see it, to be a part of it.  I was able to be a part of Cuddles’ life—albeit in a tiny way—prior to her transition.  I was able to show her love, and admiration, and bring her comfort through the stroking of her mane and the sharing of my flat-faced diva.  Where I at first was terrified of connecting with Cuddles because of the sadness I would feel and the empathy that washed over me for her family, I’m so thankful that she chose to introduce herself to Chessney, and give me the honor of meeting her, too.

Rest well, sweet Cuddles, until your family sees you again…..

“I think God will have prepared everything for our perfect happiness. If it takes my dog being there in Heaven, I believe he’ll be there.“ Rev. Billy Graham