Tashi's Final Journey

My little girl came into my life when I was 19 years old. It's funny; her mother was a blonde, wire-haired daschund, her father a black and tan wire-haired daschund and my little girl turned out a red short-haired daschund. She was special right from the start! She and I grew up together. I've often said that she is the only dog I'll ever have that I had owned for literally half my life (I was 38 when she left me ... she was 19).

The beginning of the last leg of my Tashi's journey started at the end of March 2006 when I noticed a couple of mammary tumors. She's had many tumors removed throughout her life, none of which were cancerous or that had ever gotten bigger than the size of a pea. I was living in Nevada at the time where it was cold and still snowing so I kept a jacket on her and by the time I noticed these tumors, one of of them had already grown to the size of a half dollar coin or a little bigger. Tashi and I drove from Nevada the last week of March, anticipating a stop in Texas before continuing on to Florida.

I made the decision to wait until I got to Texas so I could take my mamacita to my regular vet, whom I trusted. I was extremely worried about her going under anesthesia at her age. After her surgery on that Friday, the vet said that she came through surprisingly much better than anticipated. Her bloodwork proved to show that, internally, she was in excellent condition for a dog her age. After bringing her home that evening we noticed another tumor. I didn't want to risk my little girl again, but what choice did I have? I felt it was the best thing to do. That Monday they successfully removed the additional tumor. The vet reassured me that she would be perfectly fine for the long trip ahead of us to Florida. My gut told me otherwise. I waited a few days before continuing on our trip ... I should've waited a month ... or forever!

It is the second day of our drive to Florida. We pulled off at a rest area in Alabama. I noticed that she seemed to be enjoying stretching her legs. The sun was shining, the weather was gorgeous, it was a beautiful rest area. I was admiring my little girl as I enjoyed the weather, the scenery and the sense of freedom and adventure I was feeling. I had a smile on my face ... when it happened. She started to wag her tail as the breeze blew a long blade of grass in front of her face. Her vision wasn't what it used to be and it surprised her ... she flinched ... and never stopped. She went directly and traumatically into a full-blown grand mall seizure. I became hysterical! In another state, all by ourselves, on the side of some road in the middle of nowhere ... and I didn't know what was happening to her. It seemed to continue on forever. I was very blessed that, with the help of some kind people at the rest area, they directed me to a vet that was 5 or 10 minutes up the road. Tashi was drooling at the mouth, crying and crying. She kept fighting to get out of her little bed that was in the front seat next to me. Fighting to walk towards me. I wanted to pick her up in my arms and comfort her but I couldn't. I had to get her to a vet. As it rips my heart apart to say this ... at the time, all I could do was push her away. Hysterical, tears streaming down my face, saliva all over my tee shirt ... I didn't care what anybody thought as I walked into the vets office! They saw her and sedated her. She went completely limp. It was an eerie feeling that I will never shake and at that moment I had no idea that I would be feeling her that way again ... soon. I waited for 2 hours in the vets parking lot in my car with my Tashi, looking up and out my open sun roof at the huge shade trees above me, while my little Tashi lay heavily sedated in her bed in the front seat next to me ... waiting to ensure that we could continue on the road. I wished they would've sedated me too! We drove another 7 or 8 hours to our destination. It took my little old lady two weeks to recover from that incident. About a month later she had another seizure. I gave her some doggie valium that the vet had given me and about 1 1/2 hours later, she began to settle down.

My little girl and I began our drive back to Texas in June of 2006. The week prior to our leaving I had this horrible gut feeling that I was taking my little girl home to die. I dare not say it out loud so I just pushed the thought out of my head! I didn't want to think that way. I had read that rescue remedy was good for dogs recovery times when experiencing seizures so I opted to give it to her every 4 hours or so on our trip this time as a preventative measure. I was extremely relieved as we drove up the 2-mile road that leads to our house that she made it without having a seizure. About 7 hours later ... she had one. By this time her ability to walk had become affected. She was still moving around well, it's just that she would walk in a big circle. She moaned a lot. Like she was uncomfortable. About a week after getting to Texas, I started her on prednisone for her arthritis ... and sure enough, her moaning stopped ... and she began walking a little straighter.

June 29, 2006: I was visiting a friend when I got a phone call from my mother saying that Tashi was having a lot of problems. I learned that she had another major seizure. This time, by the time my parents got her to the vet, she had been seizing 30-45 minutes straight without stop. They rushed her to the closest vet available ... a vet that had never seen Tashi before. He was a young vet. The vet kept her there for the day to monitor her and when my mother and I went to pick her up at 7 that evening the vet informed us that she was showing signs of kidney disease and that she only had 6 months left to live ... I'd better start saying my goodbyes ... is what he said ... I'll never forget those words. I was devastated. The vet sent us home with phenobarbital (a drug to prevent seizures) with instructions to start administering it the next morning. After Tashi's death, I found out that upon my parent's arrival to this vet, while Tashi was in full-blown siezure, this vet's office found it more important that my parents fill out the new patient paperwork than to get my little girl the attention she so obviously needed. They sat in that waiting room, my little Tashi suffering/seizing for 10 full minutes before anyone made the time to come out and sedate her. Had I known this at the time, I would have NEVER taken advice from such a calloused vet!! By 4AM that morning Tashi had 3 more seizures ... I decided to give her the phenobarbital at that time.

June 30, 2006: 8:30 that morning I called this same vet to let him know what happened over the course of the night. He instructed me to go ahead and give her the doggie valium so that we could give the phenobarbital a chance to get into her system. I knew from my previous experiences that the doggie valium takes an hour to take affect when it is given in pill form. Ten minutes after giving her the valium, she had another seizure. I called the vet and he said bring her in NOW. Tashi was very lathargic ... she was so exhausted and completely drugged out. When I got her to the vet he immediately started telling me that I needed to put her down. She was suffering. "I don't want her to suffer" I told him ... "then do the right thing" he said. "No! I can't!" My family was out of town at the time and I explained that I couldn't do it then, not without giving them the opportunity to be there for it. They HAD to be here if I were ever to do something like that. He told me that she was suffering and that she could die while she was in his care at his office ... it was that bad ... it could happen anytime! If I wasn't gonna put her down at that moment then he said he would keep her at the office to keep her comfortable and that I could pick her up at 5 and take her home but that I had to bring her back the next day between 8AM and 12 to put her to sleep. "But can"t I have the weekend?" I pleaded. "Then you'll only be being selfish" he said "while she suffers" (I had told him before that I wanted to do what was best for her, not what was best for me ... I didn't want to be selfish). "But I don't want her to suffer! I don't want my little girl to suffer!" I picked her up at 5 that day. The vet told me when I picked her up not to give her any phenobarbital ... just give her the doggie valium. Once at 8PM and again at 12PM. The whole point was just to keep her comfortable until tomorrow when he was going to put her to sleep ... forget about the preventative measures!

When I got home, I took her out of the little kennel, lay down on the couch, put her to my heart and cried uncontrollably ... my throat hurt I cried so much! After about an hour, with my little girl on my chest, we slept ... her from her drugs ... me from being emotionally drained and exhausted. About 2 hours later I woke up to the feel of her heart beating on my chest; her stomach expanding in and out with each breath she took. I took special care to breath in and out heavily enough to ensure that she could feel the movement of my breathing too. She felt so warm. I touched her ears, caressed her little face and let my soul touch hers. There have been a handful of moments throughout the course of our 19 years together that I have felt our souls touch ... felt them relate ... felt them talk. This was one of those moments. At that moment, I had the strongest - strongest feeling that she was telling me that she wasn't ready; it wasn't time. Not fear ... just not ready ... not yet. "I'm still fighting! It's the drugs!" I heard in my head. Instead of listening, I consoled her. "It'll be ok, it'll be over soon" I said. I had already given up on her. I gave up on my little girl, my baby! I only had one thing in mind and that was to put her to sleep. Why didn't I listen?! How could I give up on her like that? So soon?! So easily?! At the time, I hadn't realized that it was only yesterday that this whole thing had started; it seemed like an eternity.

I gave her the valium at 8 as instructed. As I rearranged her in her little bed, I noticed that her left front paw seemed kinda rigid. My thoughts were that she was showing more and more signs of suffering from her ailment. I later realized that this was not the case, there was an acceptable explanation. I decided to give her the phenobarbital at 12 instead of the valium like the vet had instructed. We had done some research on the internet and found that it takes 2 weeks before you can accurately measure the correct dose of phenobarbital in a pet. To this point, Tashi had only one dose. We decided that if she starts showing signs of discomfort we would give her the valium at that point. At midnight I gave her phenobarbital ... at 1AM she started getting fidgety. I panicked so I gave her the valium. To this point I had been going on little to no sleep. I don't know what time it was but sometime in the middle of the night my little girl woke me up panting and breathing extremely heavily as if she were in the middle of a race. I could hardly keep my eyes open as I ran my finger up and down the bridge of her bumpy little nose, comforting her. Even at that point, my instincts were telling me that this was a reaction to too much medication. Again I chose to ignore the signs, ignore my instincts ... with only one thing in my mind ... tomorrow it would be all over.

July 1, 2006: Around 6AM Tashi had a seizure. Wow what an improvement! It only lasted 10 seconds instead of minutes and the recovery time was immediate instead of hours! As we all gave her enormous amounts of attention, she stood up for the first time in a couple days completely on her own! Her little body wobbled as she successfully stood there! We all also noticed that her eyes were very bright. She was actually focusing on us instead of the blank stare that we had been seeing. Her breathing had also started returning to a more normal pace. So many signs; She was telling me, and more than that she was saying, "See? Look!!" Yet all I could think was, "how blessed am I that our last moments together, she will feel good enough and be focused enough to see my face when they stick that needle in her little arm?" Signs ... signs ...

10AM Tashi has another very very small seizure with immediate recovery.

At around 10:30AM I called my regular vet to get a second opinion on putting her to sleep. I faxed him the blood work and test results that I had from this other vet. My regular vet told me that the blood work was inconclusive as far as the kidney disease goes. The irregular blood count could simply mean that she is very dehydrated. There is no way to know without additional tests as to whether its actually kidney disease. I didn't realize it at the time, but just the day before I had asked the new vet to give her plenty of fluids because she was very dehydrated. He gave them to her subcutaneously. My regular vet said he couldn't advise me one way or the other ... it was a judgment call, completely up to me.

We waited to the very last minute and got to the vet at 11:45AM. When we got there, the vet was not there. He was out on a call. It would be at least an hour before he got there. The office closed at 12 and we were the only ones there but the clerk let us wait inside until the vet got there; so many signs!! While we waited, I notice that the leg that I had noticed being rigid the night before was actually swollen. My parents told me that it was the leg the vet had given her a shot in. That's why it was rigid like that! The realizations were adding up, yet I continued to ignore them. Around 12:15 she had a third seizure with immediate recovery.

The vet got there around 1. The vet and his assistant hurried us off into one of the back rooms. I started off holding my little girl as she layed on the cold hard table and the two tied a turnicate around her little leg and attempted to give her a shot in her front leg. The way they worked around me felt as if I were nothing more than in the way. I very quickly found myself being pushed completely out of the way as the first shot didn't go into her leg. They stepped in front of me, between me and my little girl, almost in a panic I looked into her little face in between their arms as she let out a cry ... almost a small howl ... they were scaring her and their poking hurt. I screamed inside to myself "STOP!! The first shot didn't work, it's a sign! STOP!!!" ut the words wouldn't come out of my mouth. It's as if I were in a movie theatre watching everything happening in front of me. The vet took her head and forced it to once side as he stuck the needle in her neck. He was so rough, so insensitive. My poor baby! Oh my god! No! My little girl! Finally they stood back and we rushed her! "No! No! No!" is all I could say! After it was done they left the room for maybe 1 minute and then came back in and stood there, waiting, watching, as if to hurry us out. Once again, I found myself holding my little girl's limp little body as I picked her up in my arms and cradled her like a baby as I screamed inside "Noooooooooooooo!"

We left my mamacita at the vet for cremation. The crematory would pick her up on Monday and said that it would take two weeks and that we were not allowed to watch the process.

That night I couldn't bear being at the house and once again I found myself at a friends house. I didn't want to go home so I didn't. The next morning I thought how unusual it was for me to be handling this so well. I didn't cry at all and hardly even thought about what had just happened the whole time I was with my friend. Do I not love her as much as I thought I did? Maybe this won't be as hard as I thought. I had a 30-minute drive ahead of me before I got home. Five minutes after heading home, it hit me like a monsoon! "Oh my god!!!! What did I do?! I screwed up!! I made a mistake! It was the drugs! It was the drugs! She was improving! And I just gave her too much medicine that night! She told me! She told me!" I shouldn't have been driving that day. I should've pulled over. I've always known that I have people watching over me, and they were certainly watching over me that day, because I made it home safely.

As soon as I got home, in a state of panic and desparation, I grabbed the bottles of phenobarbital and diazepham (valium) and hit the internet. I had to see if I had screwed up. Did I give her too much medication? Did I cause my little girls suffering?! Was she really getting better and I was misreading her symptoms? I had to know! I searched for phenobarbital / diazepham overdose symptoms. I died the moment I read the words "hyper activity". I was right. I searched more only to find that during the first 3 days of administering phenobarbital to a pet, they respond by being lethargic and non responsive. I thought she was getting worse when in reality she was responding exactly the way she was supposed to be and her symptoms were actually the drugs and that she was getting better. She was standing, she was eating more, drinking more, her seizures were getting less traumatic and recovery time was improving! It had only been one full day dammit! ONE day!! My regular vet told me that it was inconclusive that she had kidney disease. I screwed up! I gave up on my little girl. I listened to some calloused vet who had never seen Tashi before instead of my regular vet. I put her to sleep before she was ready! I ignored the signs! I ignored my instincts! And I don't know why! Why would I do such a thing? I didn't realize at the time that it had only been one full day before I made the decision to put my little old lady down. ONE day!!!! At the time, the two days that it took from the time of the first major seizure to the time I put her down, seemed like an eternity. It seemed like at least a week that she suffered. When in reality it was only two days. Why was I in that mindset? Right now I don't know. Maybe one day I will.

For months I've felt unbearable guilt over the decisions I made, for ignoring my heart, my instinct and for what I had done and didn't do. Her very last moment was scary and painful for her. I had always envisioned that if I were ever in that position, I would cradle my little baby's head in my hands, caress her ears while looking directly into her eyes while they gave her the shot. She would hardly notice as her eyes would slowly close and she would go peacefully to sleep. Peaceful, calm, secure ... knowing I'm there. I wanted to be the last thing she saw. And yet this is not how it was. She deserved so much better than that in her final moment. I should've stood up for her, insisting that they treat her AND us with more dignity and respect! But I didn't! Why?!

July 5, 2006: My father had been having this unshakeable uneasy feeling about the fact that it would take the Wagging Works Pet Crematory two weeks to do an individual cremation and that we could not watch the process. He couldn't shake the feeling that this crematory was going to accumalate pets, cremate them all together and then we wouldn't be getting just Tashi back. At this point, I was done not trusting "instinct" and we decided to take her to a crematory that would allow us to watch the process. My mother called the Wagging Works Pet Crematory in Seguin, TX and spoke to the owner who impatiently cut her off in the middle of her explainations of why we were taking Tashi to a different crematory to say, I quote, "I don't have time to hear your explainations. I've heard them all before. I have other things to do". We drove out to Seguin to pick up my little old lady. The place was a beat up, run down looking trailor home and the same man my mom had spoken to on the phone greeted us with extreme insensitivity. He impatiently gestured to my mother to get her to talk faster as she explained who we were and who we were there to pick up. When she told him we were there to pick up Tashi, he pranced in the back brought out a black oversized trash bag tied with a knot on one end and jokingly put her in the cooler that we had brought. The Wagging Works Pet Crematory was NOT the place to put our Tashi to rest nor the people to do it!!

We then drove towards New Braunfels to a place called Paws in Heaven Pet Crematory . As we got closer to the location, I felt a wonderful sense of energy in the area. We were driving out towards the hill country; such a beautiful drive; my little Tashi in the cooler in the seat next to me. I smiled to myself as I realized that we were approaching an area that held very good memories for me. We were near River Road, just outside of Gruene, TX. I used to drive River Road frequently on my camping and tubing trips. I shared many laughs, many good times, had many many fun experiences with friends there. Eventually we came to a little cottage on a country road with an open pasture filled with exotic animals directly across from it. They had a memorial garden with benches and pet memorials placed peacefully and lovingly under a big shade tree. I breathed a sigh of relief. The cremation was scheduled for 2.

The owners of the Paws In Heaven Pet Crematory referred to my Tashi as "your baby" or by her name whenever they spoke of her. They compassionately and patiently listened as we told our stories. They offered a viewing area so that we could spend time with her before having her cremated. This was the right place and the right people to give my little girl the final resting accomodations that she so deserved. The viewing area was put together with the same love and attention, as you would find in a funeral home. There were flowers, angel statues, curtains, a poem book and the area was blocked off for privacy. They took my little girl, opened up the bag and laid her on the table for us. We each spent time alone and time together with Tashi. She was very wet as her little body began to thaw out and I didn't care. I held her close to me. I cradled her. I cried without holding back. I talked to her. I reassured her. I spent unrushed time with her ... and I loved on her. After about an hour and a half of personal time and together time with my little girl and of taking paw prints and hair clippings ... it was time.

I carried my Tashi's little body in my arms as a very nice gentleman led us over to the furnace. It was very big and very hot out there. The furnace was long and silver with diamond shaped protrusions all over it. We stood in front of the closed furnace door as he compassionately and patiently explained the process and what was about to happen. I laid my little girl down on a metal table, caressing her little old lady paws and her bald, age spot covered ears while we waited for the furnace to get to full temperature. The moment came, the door opened and I could feel the heat and hear the sound of the fire blowing in the back of the furnace. With a metal, flat plate bar, he pushed her little, wet, limp body into the furnace. I could see the fire burning orange and hot a good distance behind her. I noticed her ear start to curl a little just as the silver, metal door slid shut. She looked so peaceful, so at rest. It would take 30 minutes before she would be ready to come out. My parents sat inside and talked to the owner while I sat outside on the bench, facing the pasture, listening to the birds. It was a little hot but not so bad under the shade were I was sitting. The outdoors and the birds brought me calmness. For the moment, I was feeling better.

About 3 or 3:30PM the nice man came out and told us that Tashi was ready. We stood in front of the furnace as the door slid open to reveal what appeared to me an ashy white pile of broken up little bone fragments; not what I was expecting to see. I always thought that I would see nothing but greyish colored ashes. He explained how he would pull her remains out and into a container on the floor. We watched. He then showed us the remains in the bucket as we asked questions and he willingly offered answers. He smiled - with an open heart. We then walked over and watched as he processed the remains and carefully put them into two small urns (one for each of my parents) and one big urn for me.

Then a young lady came over and carefully packaged our little girl up in a box. She put tissue paper and a nice rosemary sache that read:

Rosemary for Rememberence

Contents may be scattered at the gravesite or any place of shared rememberence. The act of scattering some and keeping the rest symbolically recognizes

"Love that will forever live ... some to keep and some to give."

Throughout history the fragrance herb rosemary has always held a place of great esteem as the symbol of remembrance. Sprigs were laid at the grave of loved ones as a token of loyalty and commemoration. What better promise could be given to those we hold dear than the vow that they will never be forgotten?

"There's rosemary, that's for rememberance" - Wm Shakespeare

The love, compassion, dignity and respect that Paws In Heaven Pet Crematory in Sattler, TX showed my little girl and us made all the difference in the world for me. I hope that they can know at least a tiny portion of the immense peace they brought to my very troubled heart.

Someone once told me that the reason my little girl lived as long as she did was because I loved on her so much. It brought a smile to my heart when they told me that and offers peace to my soul now that she is gone. I gave her a good life and she gave me one in return. In time I'll find forgiveness for myself for what I did and didn't do. My head understands the state of panic I was in at the time which resulted in my making the decisions that I did. It's just that my heart doesn't know that yet. One day, my heart will catch up with my head. For now I cry, for now I scream why, for now I blame, for now I'm angry and I yell ... for now ... I heal.

I love you Tashi-washi.