Life is hard enough without death . . . especially if it’s a dog that you love more than you even know.
I adopted Mattie as a 1-month old and 14 and a half years later she’s chasing squirrels in heaven. The week that led to putting her down was easily one of the hardest of my life.
It’s been three days and I’ve had a million emotions. I keep looking for her when I get up and wondering if she wants to share something every time I open the refrigerator.
She was ready to go, but kept showing me she wasn’t going easy. Even as she resisted the first round of sedation and looked up into my eyes as if to say, “I’m trying, dad.”
She was a lover and a fighter.
Of course there’s been sadness and grief, but ultimately I’m starting to see a picture of what this all means. Mattie gave me two of the greatest gifts anyone can share: She saved my life, then let go so I could be free.
In 2010, I was in my mid-40s, alone, and living in a new home in East Nashville. I didn’t know a lot of people other than my drinking buddies up at the Village Pub. One of them was Roger who was a massive dog lover and kept suggesting I adopt a buddy. After many rejections, I gave in to the idea of a two week foster and soon after I was walking through PetSmart with a tiny dog sitting on the top part of my shopping cart.
That little girl didn’t have a name at the time and I scrambled behind her for two weeks cleaning up poop and pee at an alarming rate. I was now driving home at lunch to check on her and my stress level was doubled.
On “decision day” Roger came by my house and I told him I couldn’t do it. He tried to talk me through it, but I said I wasn’t a dog guy and the poop and pee thing was driving me crazy. I said I’m sure there’s someone out there for her.
I was being selfish and knew it. It was a public stage for my fear of commitment. It was stubbornness we all feel when we know we should do something, but are resisting on a muddy principle.
We both sat in silence and I tried not to look at that cute little puppy. She was truly a heart melter and as I complained about the poop and pee I could feel my soul harden. This poor little girl was left in the street by someone and here I was rejecting her again. It brings a tear to my eye thinking about how I can be so selfish.
As Roger and I sat in silence I could hear those little dog feet clicking against the hardwood floor. Reluctantly I glanced toward her, and for the first time she walked toward the open door and onto deck. She cautiously stepped outside, then gingerly hopped down the deck stairs. We stood in the doorway and watched as she walked to the grass and peed outside for the first time on her own.
She was just a baby. Still scared and confused, but wanted to show me her courage. It was an unbelievable moment of how powerful the universe can be and I instantly knew I would keep her. She fought her way back up and wagged her tail the whole time as she sat between my feet.
Roger stayed another couple hours and we drank beer and watched football with Mattie.
There were a lot of challenging times, but Mattie kept getting up off the ground. She needed me every day and it taught me responsibility that I now embrace without thinking.
The last couple years she developed arthritis and I searched high and low to help reduce her inflammation. Some days were better than others, but the last few months she really struggled.
She limped her way out to pee and poop. Never complaining, but many times she just sat down in the yard until I’d come and help her up. I tried everything, hoping for a miracle, but last week she told me that miracle wasn’t coming and she was at peace with it.
As if to say, “I’m tired dad, it’s okay to let me go.”
Just one more time I wanted to see that youthful energy and especially that wagging tail. But she was shutting down. I would have carried her to the moon, but that’s not what she wanted. She wanted to set me free.
And as hard as it is, that’s what she did.
I was an out-of-control-train before she taught me to slow down, love harder, and commit to that love in the moment. She taught me how to be responsible for myself and others.
Now she has left me on my own and in some ways I feel like a scared and confused puppy. She became my rock and now it’s my turn to graciously depend on others to give me the love I need.
Dogs know how to live from the beginning. Even when they’re on a leash they explore every inch of that space. They are free within every box. They choose happiness first and always lead with love.
Like a Zen Master, Mattie taught me these lessons and walked into the darkness. She looked back one last time and said, “I’ll always be with you. Let go of the rope, and live the life you’re meant to live.”