Two Wooden Sticks and a Ball of Wool

My Girl Gryph

Gryphon
November 08, 1994 - April 11, 2009

I had to euthanize my girl Gryph this past Saturday.  Two weeks prior, on March 28, Gryph slipped down the bottom two stairs of our staircase, tearing up her inner thigh and cracking her pelvis.  Normally this would be recoverable.  Gryph, at 14 1/2 years, had certainly seen her share of maladies (three incidents of tortion - her stomach was sewn to her abdominal wall on the third time, two separate dog attacks - one cutting the femoral artery which did NOT bleed out, pnuemonia stemming from kennel cough from which the vets were sure she would not recover but she did with NO scar tissue) however she had two fused vertebrae which caused nerve damage to her rear end weakening it, and at her relatively advanced age she was more fragile (our vet likened it to a 90 year old woman who has broken her hip).

The two weeks from the time of her injury to my decision to put her down on Saturday were such an intense roller coaster ride.  The narcotics used the first week to manage the pain (tramadol, something IV and a phentenol patch) all caused dysphoria and my sweet, sweet lovely girl was in distress and unable to be alone and without me in her sight - nothing like herself and quite emotionally hard for me.  The second week saw an improvement in her ability to walk and her overall pain level, however she continued to have painful spasms in her right leg (the vets didn't really know what might be causing this) which would leave her crying and her mental fragility seemed increasingly affected. 

I had decided after one week to put her down and then she rallied and I really felt I should give her a chance.  There were many ups and downs and my decision to put her down on the Thursday was changed by the fact that she seemed to be doing better.  Given that it was the Easter weekend, I decided I would see how she did over the weekend and possibly wait until Easter Monday.  Gryph had a stellar day Friday and then totally bottomed out.  By Friday night she was in agony and could not walk.  Saturday morning she still couldn't walk.  I knew I couldn't wait. 

This whole concept of euthanasia is indeed a tough one.  I am more emotional by nature and I know that I wanted to give Gryph the chance to recover, and, honestly, I was having such a hard time letting her go (my fantasy of her just going to sleep one day and not waking up is a naive one).  I also didn't want her to suffer anymore.  We took her in on Saturday morning and I cried (and have cried) so unabashedly. 

My girl Gryph was an intelligent, curious and kind dog, full of love and joy and playfulness.  Typical of the standard poodle breed, even up to the day she fell, she would romp outside - despite her rear end weakness - and display a puppy like sense of mischeviousness.  I miss her muppet eyes, her Gryphie smell and that insistent push against my hand to give her a rub.  Companion dogs are such a gift of unconditional love, acceptance and loyalty.  Gryph let Nick beat up on her when he was a toddler and she followed him around the farm yard making sure he was safe.  She laid beside me during the worst times of my illness and she played hard and so tenderly with Ed.

I am so thankful that I was fortunate enough to be such a large part of her journey.  I miss her so much right now.

An Anniversary

Robin (1973)
January 21, 1958 - April 1, 1997

I remember:

• you introducing me to the music of Gino Vanelli, Supertramp, Genesis, Herbie Hancock, Miles Davis and George Benson to name just a few.  You were always so happy to share and I was always so willing to receive.  I still have the tapes you made me even though I don't have a tape deck anymore;
• you talking Jim into flying you to Calgary when I was so homesick for a 'spur of the moment' trip to hang out with me and you got high and ate a whole bag of Oreos on the way and then we stayed up until 5 in the morning because of your sugar rush - oh how we laughed;
• when we were driving down to Cinncinati with Tracey that time to see Jamie and you guys had to stop at the first corner store over the border so you could get beer and munchies and we saw Mom & Dad at that rest stop in Michigan and you convinced me to back up on the I-95 so you could go have a 'chat,' and we were laughing so hard I think I wet my pants and you calmly jumped out of the truck like it was no big deal;
• when the internet was first up and running how we hung out on the World Wide Web and constantly emailed each other.  You would be amazed at how things have changed;
• when I got drunk on Amaretto that one Christmas Eve and how you covered for me on Christmas Day (although looking back now I don't think that Mom and Dad really bought it).  BTW, the Glenffidich is still in my pantry - I have given up the scotch and vodka martinis...and well every kind of alcohol;
• you had a 35mm first and I got the degree in photography;
• I took the weaving class in college and you got the floor loom and taught yourself;
• how often people told us we were so much alike....although I would think about things first before jumping in;
• how much of an extrovert you were....and how much of an introvert I still am;
• your joie de vivre.

I love the photo Rob.  So 70's.  You are the same age in this photo as Nick is now (and in the same Grade too).  The maple tree we planted in your honour grows strong.  Even though I am now 9.5 years older than you were when you died, you will always be my big sister.  I miss you so much.