Our Best Girl, 2010 - 2023

 Me:  You just never think about 'the end'

Mark:  What?

Me:  When you bring home your new puppy.  You're so excited and happy.  Your puppy is so cute and happy.  You never even stop to think how hard it is going to be at the end.

Mark:  I think that can be said about a lot of beginnings.

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At one point we had 13 mouths to feed in our home.  

Mark told me no more animals.  If I brought one in, one had to go out. 

The chickens quit laying, so Mark got rid of them.  (Gave them away; did not 'off them')

My mom was lonely, so she took one of our cats.  (Always a scaredy cat; Mark felt she would be better as an 'only pet' instead of in our chaotic home where one of the other cats loved to chase her around and around.)

2023 was NOT a good year to be a dog in our home.  We lost two of 'em.  One unexpectedly in May;  One after a slow decline in December.

Our home is easier.  It's cleaner.   It's more lonely.  It's more boring.  It's emptier.  It's too quiet.  It's too sad.

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Sometime in the fall of 2010 Jenni called and asked if we wanted a lab puppy.  She knew I had wanted a chocolate lab, and while Mark didn't necessarily want a lab, he did want a bigger dog.

Some people had just had a litter of pure labs.  They were not selling them, but did want to make sure all the puppies went to good homes.  There was a little chocolate girl in the mix.  And a little yellow boy. 

Jenni and Dustin took the yellow boy;  We took the chocolate girl.  

We were supposed to get our puppy that Thanksgiving, but a phone call from Jenni informed us the momma was turning away her puppies.  We needed to come sooner.  We made the trip in early November to Texas to pick up our brand new puppy.  Our little Georgia O'Keeffe.   (We were in New Mexico at the time, so the name fit.  Georgia O'Keeffe, the artist, was also a New Mexico transplant.)

I still remember the trip back to New Mexico with her.  Mark drove, Georgia slept soundly in my lap, and Dolce kept staring at this new "thing" trying to figure out what it was doing in HER space.  At five or six weeks, baby Georgia was the same size as her 2 year old sister.

Georgia, from the beginning, was such a sweet, sweet doggie.  She was high energy, as all puppies should be, but she was just so good.  She loved people.  She loved other doggies.  She loved everyone and everything.

She, however, was not much of a 'retriever'.  She didn't fetch.  She didn't retrieve.  While she liked wading in the water, she wasn't much of a swimmer.  She wasn't much of a digger (yay!) as some labs and puppies are prone to.

What she wanted most of all was to spend time with her pack...and that was us.

Mark's all time favorite picture of his girl:

I have often said, "Georgia likes me, but Georgia LOVES Mark."  

When she was brand new, Mark would spend most of his spare time with her. We had a baby gate keeping her in the kitchen whilst she was being house broken.  Mark would spend hours in there with her.  Sitting on the floor talking with her.  Rolling a ball back and forth trying to get her interested.  And she would cuddle up on him and fall asleep.

Las Cruces had a nice dog park so, back in the day, I used to take the dogs regularly.  Georgia loved running and jumping and playing with the other dogs in the park. 

I come from a long line of dog lovers.  Bring your dog to holiday get togethers.  Let them hang out. 

Georgia LOVED it all.

As Georgia grew, Mark would take bike rides and Georgia would run along side him. Georgia took off like a shot.   Mark says the first 80 yards or so, Georgia was leading, but then eventually she would slow down, and they would be more in sync.

She grew and became such an integral part of our family.  She adapted wonderfully to all the changes that came throughout the years.  

We got Fritz, and she became his best friend.  We lost Fritz, and she was lonely.

We got Cecelia Beaux, and she became everything to Cecelia.  Cecelia would go nowhere, unless Georgia went first.  Cecelia would eat nothing, unless Georgia ate first.  Georgia taught Cecelia the ropes, and she was such a great big sister.  

We moved multiple times through the years, and, as long as she had her people, Georgia was just fine with each and every move.  

Mark and I both said over and over how easy she was.  "If she was our only animal, our lives would be so easy."  

She was so good.  She just wanted to please...and to love.

She even loved going to the vet.  She'd go in head held high and tail just a wagging.  (A happy Labrador tail can be a dangerous thing!)

And life was good.

And life passed too fast.

For over twelve years Georgia was the best and easiest dog ever.  

No issues.  No problems.  No worries.

Beginning of August all of that changed.

Mark and I were in Milwaukee for a Lutheran Convention.  Late Sunday night we got a phone call from Georgia's care givers.  She cut her foot.  It looked pretty bad.  Ok.  No worries.  Take her to the vet in the morning.  

A few stitches, and we thought all was good.

It wasn't.

She got her stitches out, but her foot refused to heal.  Even wearing a cone, our girl managed to chew off one of her own toenails.  Her foot must have been bothering her.

Georgia ended up in the biggest cone available, because she was determined to keep licking and biting her foot.

She ended up with this icky open wound.  The vet wasn't sure it would heal, but we had to try.  Meanwhile, we had to leave it open and let it bleed until finally a scab would form.  

She was a mess, but she was our mess.  We put down lots of old beach towels.  We cleaned and did laundry constantly, but she was our girl.

FINALLY her foot healed 

FINALLY we could get rid of that enormous, hideous cone.

And then....

She had a fat deposit on her chest.  Normally, not a big deal.  But again, Georgia's wouldn't heal.  It bled and bled.  

The vet decided to do surgery and remove it.  She healed nicely.

And then....

She couldn't breathe. Her breathing was hard and labored.

Back to the vet.

At this point I have NO IDEA how much money we have spent at the vet.  I could add it up, but it is probably better to not know.

Georgia had Pneumonia.

The problem with this was that her medications made her sick.  She began vomiting... and not eating.

With her upset stomach, she quit eating and drinking.  

She was shrinking.

She was dehydrating.

And she was NOT keeping her meds down.

We made a couple trips to the vet for IV treatments and shots.

She would improve.  She'd be good for about 36 hours, and then it would all start again.

Back to the vet for another IV and more shots.

Eventually Mark was giving her shots at home.

And she did good.

For a while.

She had a good week.

Saturday I was making eggnog.  She was in the kitchen with me.  I saved all the egg whites for her.  I was happy.

I was going to babysit James, and before I left, I fed Georgia.  She ate.  She wasn't eating a lot at this point, but she WAS eating.  And keeping it down!! 

I called later that night to check on her.  She wasn't eating.  Mark was worried.  I wasn't worried, because she had eaten a few small meals that day.  Her tummy was sensitive.  I wasn't worried.

Sunday morning, I knew.

Sunday morning, I took her collar off.  

I knew she no longer needed it.

Every other day I felt as though we were keeping her alive.

By Sunday, I knew we were prolonging the inevitable.

I was ready to call the vet;  Mark was not.

"She can't go for a walk, but let's take her for a drive.", he said, "One last drive around the neighborhood."

So we did.

She seemed to like it.

She would sometimes lie her head down, but other times, she would pick her head up and look around.  

Mark wanted to make it a good day for her.  I think we both knew we were reaching the end.

We did not know the end would be that evening.

When she went down, she went down quick.

By that afternoon, she could no longer stand.  

That did it for Mark.

We called the vet.

She could meet us at 5:30.

Mark had an old dog bed in the back seat of the truck.  It had been there all these months.  He picked her up and placed her in the truck.  I sat beside her and pet her and talked with her.  I told her soon she would feel better.  She would be good.

It didn't take long.  Her body was ready.

She probably would have gone on her own over night, but this way she went peacefully. 

Georgia loved to lie in the grass.  Sun shining down on her.  While she was sick, her favorite spot was our front yard.  Lying in the grass.  

While she was sick, Mark was her primary caregiver during the day.  Every day, Georgia was his priority.  His projects got put on hold. Meals even got put on the back burner.  All that mattered was taking care of Georgia.

While she was sick, I was her primary caregiver over night.  I would get up with her and take her to the front yard.  We would go out multiple times during the nights.  She would lie in the grass, and I would take in the quiet dark of the nights.

When we got home from the vet, I stood on the porch.  I took in the quiet dark of my empty yard.

And I cried.

For my girl.

Mark got out his best scotch, and we both drank a toast to "our best girl".

We are not OK.  But we will be.