Sunday Photos - Farewell to Our Achilles

Our little warrior. Mama's sweetfaced boy. My bubby. The strong, spirited Golden. I miss my baby sweetness so much, there aren't words to describe it.

Achilles' spirit and soul finally escaped his aching, exhausted body at 12:55 pm yesterday.

It was incredibly hard to let him go. Unlike Nick, who was lying motionless for hours before the vet arrived, Achilles was still lifting his head, looking around, smiling when he could, interested in the life and the people around him. A battle raged within me, wondering whether it was his time, or not.

I called his vet and broke down bawling, asking for reassurance that it really was my baby's time. She is such an amazing doctor. After re-explaining everything to me, the fact that he would need to have liver and intestines removed if she were to even try to treat him (which she refused to do given his age and suffering), she softly explained that we are charged with Achilles' well-being, and knowing the amount of pain he'd go through over the next few days as he slowly died, it was more humane to euthanize him "one day too early, rather than one day too late."

That one sentence made it more bearable for me. Within me, the battle of Islamic teachings on death pitted against the honor and obligation I owed to Achilles, was a battle of epic proportions, but it is a battle that will have to wait for resolution. I could not, and would not, allow our Sweetface to suffer.

This amazing dog touched the lives of so many, and he was surrounded by an abundance of love as he took his last breath. Lynne, Amos, my little sister, Linnea, Roberto, me and Ed were all around him when the vet arrived.

When the doctor arrived, Lynne said that a strong breeze blew through the patio doors and ruffled every single one of Achilles' fur. He lifted his head and sniffed the scents of the world blown in by the wind. How that boy loved a nap in the cool shade with a soothing breeze ruffling his fur.

I can't bring myself to write about all the details of yesterday's heartache. I would never make it through this post. The details right now are raw and red in my mind, and I can't put them in text. He took his last breath with his beautiful head in my lap, with his mommy and daddy surrounding him. Lynne and Amos kept Milo under control and calm, hugging him lovingly through the entire process.

Amos asked that Achilles put in a good word for us with God. I prayed and prayed and begged God to lift him up peacefully, make him spry and young and healthy up there in heaven, and to please give him a never ending field of steamed rice and chicken strips. I asked for forgiveness for myself and for Ed.

Our little niece and nephews called. Our niece explained how her hamster is in heaven in great-grandpa's pocket, and Nick is waiting for Achilles. From the mouth of babes..."Auntie, tell Achilles I said good luck in heaven and I hope he has fun with Nick. Tell him we love him and we'll see him soon." Perfect. It brought a smile to our aching hearts.

We had a long night after bringing him home from the vet. Auntie Laura called from Seattle and talked with Achilles, and sang along to "How Sweet It Is" by James Taylor....it is Achilles' song. He is Sweetface after all. I played the song for him a few times. I'm sure he thought I'd finally lost my mind.

With the benefits of heady, narcotic morphine for the pain, he slept on and off as much as he could. We didn't leave his side and Milo kept a watchful eye all night. My little sister took this picture of us sometime during the middle of the night. Our little campout. We slept in front of the patio door so that the breeze could cool him. His fever was unrepentent.
In the predawn hours, we took him outside so he could lie down one last time in his favorite spot in the grass. I snoozed on the lawnchair by his side until 7 am. It was the only time all night that he was able to sleep for more than 30 minutes straight. He slept peacefully in the dew-soaked grass for almost 2 hours.
The rest of the morning, we just surrounded him with love and affection and massages. Milo was Milo. Perfect protector. Perfect Golden best bud. Simply perfect.
Achilles tired easily. He fell asleep again for about an hour around 10 am. Ed took this picture, and when I saw it on my memory drive, I realized that I only have a handful of pictures with my boys. Of the 4,000+ pictures of them that I've taken, I'm only in a few of them.

I'm always taking the pictures, but never in them. I don't mind it. But, I'm glad Ed thought to take this. I'm going to treasure it always. Ed has no idea how much this picture means to me. We sure did like to nap together. My final nap with my sweet little boy. He loved it when I'd massage the soft spaces between the pads of his paws.

The last 36 hours have been excruciating. I swear to God I still hear him panting, drinking water, or like this morning, I thought I heard his little nails clicking on the kitchen floor. Milo didn't react too badly when Achilles died, it was just the time leading up to the injection that freaked him out a bit.

But, last night he went out and sniffed under the deck stairs, looking for Achilles. This morning he went under the stairs again looking for him, then strolled around all of his favorites spots looking for his Golden brother. It broke my heart. As the day has progressed, Milo has become just a bit more withdrawn. Dr. Sorenson told us what to look for, so we've been expecting his "doggie depression", and we've spent the day loving on him and making sure he knows much we love him. How much we're grateful for his gentle presence on this difficult day. I cannot imagine how much more he must miss Achilles.

Early this morning I woke to Milo slurping and licking my face. I must have been dreaming because I could tell I'd been crying, my pillow was wet. Milo, ever the sensitive boy, was there to kiss me out of my sadness. Thank you,thank you, thank you, sweet Milo Bear.

Pretty much spent the weekend in a fog. Did a lot of soul-searching. Wondered about the wisdom of adopting elderly Goldens. Went to church with Ed this morning, and then broke down in the parking lot, sobs wracking my body. I just wanted him back. Ed held me and said the alternative was that we didn't adopt Achilles, or Nick or Milo for that matter, and maybe no one else would have rescued them, and maybe they would have died in the pound somewhere with no one to cry for them. No one to miss them. No one to have made their last few months a little more fullfilled and happy.

Came home and went through my entire Flickr account of photos and videos. Couldn't help myself. Some made me laugh. Some made me cry. But they all made me grateful that we knew Achilles. That he was our baby at the end. Hard to believe that just a couple of weeks ago we were at the park, wandering through some of our favorite trails...


He had a great time at the park that day. Drank a full bowl of water, strolled and sniffed every inch of the grounds, left pee-mail on every blade of grass, ate chicken strips and honey cookies that his mama snuck along in her pocket...he was happy-slappy and fat with smiles....

Later that day he and Milo were caught in this photo, being just too cute for their own good. (This past month we've had to put down sheets everywhere because Achilles had taken to scratching his face until it bled a bit, so we were constanly trying to prevent spots on the carpet.) One of the things Ed and I fell in love with was Achilles' "pigeon paws"...when he'd sit, he turned his little paws inward, and it was unbearably cute, just like he did here....
My last photos and videos of a healthy Achilles was just over a week ago. He finished his dinner of rice, chicken and veggies. One kernel of rice was stuck to the top of his nose....
....and it was driving him crazy....

....we laughed at his attempts to shake it and lick it off to no avail, until I finally wiped it for him...this is the last video of a happier, healthier Achilles...what I didn't know then...

Tonight, I finally got around to washing his water bowls. They were Nick's bowls first. Folded his leash. Gathered his collar. Seeing all that is left behind reminded me again of how irrelevant all of our material things are when death knocks on our door. We don't take any of it with us.
When Nick died, a chunk of my heart died, never to be reborn. His spirit took up permanent residence in a corner of my soul and my heart. When Achilles left me, another chunk of my heart died. Yesterday, a new resident moved into another corner of my soul. I can feel the ache of him settling into his new home in my heart.

His name is Achilles. He came to us the oldest puppy we'd ever met, eager for the break of each dawn, full of life, curiosity and energy.
He is a precious Golden Retriever, one with a Beagle's head and soft, floppy ears.
His name is Achilles. My precious senior puppy. May you be well until we meet again. Rest peacefully, my Golden love.