On grief and the passing of Nala

After Nala died I fled to New York for a few weeks. Partly to visit Noelle but also to avoid being in the house on Queen Anne hill. Where Nala lived with me for 13 of her 16 years.

Letting her go was an agonizing process. Could have kept her alive for longer. Could not make the decision. Each time went the vet they asked me to consider her quality of life. Asked me to speak to vets who specialized in helping dogs through their last days. Who helped their guardians. But I did not. Cristina contacted the companies to make appointments. I didn’t follow through. She was okay. She was still Nala. She had a rambunctious moment there for a second. I could see it. Or think I saw it.

Nala had kidney disease and we thought it had progressed to failure. But turned out to be a kidney infection. Several months and three courses of antibiotics later she was better. But she had djd of the spine. Bone on bone. We began to carry her up and down the stairs. Across the street to go to the bathroom. Walks were a block here or there. And then would take her to Cristina and Sol’s house and she would run around with Boomer somehow. And that proved she was miraculously okay. Until the next day when she couldn’t move.

The trifecta was completed by dementia. The vet gave me a list of symptoms. Nala had every one of them. Quirky occasionally—became most of the time. She had always been a smiling girl. Now her expression had changed. She would get stuck under furniture. Her constant post was to stand still and look straight ahead at the wall with her nose almost or actually touching it. She would put head under pillows in the corner of the couch. Circled constantly. Around and around and around. Then we would call her name. And she would come right over. To be loved and cuddled.

It was awful and agonizing and a seesaw. The guilt was overwhelming. Life became more narrow. I went to my other homes out of state and tried not to worry so much about her. At the end, she stayed at doggie daycare in the most deluxe room possible with her own tv. They took her on little walks that she could manage. And sent me pictures every day from the senior center with her pals. There it didn’t matter that she had no bowel control.

And then I would return and not really be able to leave the house much. She was comfortable here. No longer was happy at the office. She had anxiety all the time.

And then her sleep habits changed. This sweet girl who always slept through the night would be up after 3 maybe 4 hours max. I would pick her up and walk down the stairs and carry her to the other side of the street and hope she would go potty. And sometimes she would. And other times she couldn’t manage it until after she was back in the house.

And yet I didn’t want to let her go.

I turned to Liz Friedman, a vet in LA. A close friend since kindergarten. Shared video and facetimed with her. And over the next month she gently told me that it was time to let Nala go. That’s pain behavior she would tell me. She isn’t doing well.

Cristina arranged for a vet to come over. She offered to come with me as did Lauris. But Alysha came the day before and spent the night. All we did was love Nala the whole time. Told each other memories of Nala from when she was young. Took her on her last walk. Let her smell her last tree. Alysha bought her a doggie cupcake which she liked. And doggie ice cream which she wouldn’t touch.

I will never forget how we sat on the daybed under the window. With Nala between us. Her head resting on us. We cried. With our hands clasped together on Nala’s sweet head. And we stroked her. And loved her. And turned away when the last injection was given. And she was so quiet. And soft. And we were so sad. And she stopped moving. And stopped breathing. And we didn’t move. Until finally we did. And then she was gone.

Cannot think about Nala too much without becoming overwhelmed with tears. Still. Usually like to write things out. It is part of my processing. But it took me a month to write this. It is too hard. When I went to choose a picture, could not look at those taken that last day. They are too precious. Too sad.

She came into my life. Into our lives. With such attitude. So much mojo. With unrelenting energy. Always happy. Always ready for action. Ever faithful. Even when she ran away in search of birds. Or (constantly) acted contrary to our instructions. She dedicated her life to me. To my family. And I will love her forever.

Photo: Nala by me.