Today, I came to a realization. I didn't "suddenly" realize this, because my family, friends, and I joke about this happening all the time, but today it was very real.
My dog is getting old. Which means that she is most likely closer to death than to life right now.
I've never been one to hope, think, or pray that dogs or pets go to Heaven. Yes, there will be animals (for example, Revelation 19:11-14 talks about horses and birds in Heaven), but I guess I've always imagined that they're animals that were created and lived in Heaven, not earthly animals that were saved (P.S. it's interesting to read Google's finds for "animals in Heaven"). I've never believed animals to have a "spirit" or a conscience to make decisions other than "eat food", "bark at cat", "chase ball". Some have loving characteristics and stuff.. But I don't believe an animal can make the conscience acknowledgment of "Jesus is the Son of God, He died on the cross for our sins, and then rose again three days later". If they can, well that's awesome. But as I stand right now, I don't think so. And I'm okay with this. I'm okay with there not being tons of Fido's, Fluffy's, Max's, and Princess' hanging out behind the pearly gates. I'm perfectly fine knowing that all of the goldfish I've had over time and the two dogs we've had not being in Heaven. There are going to be way, way more important and amazing things going on in Heaven than throwing a ball around with a dog. And I can't wait.
All of that to say.. I'm really going to miss Ali when she dies. And I don't have any reason to believe she'll be going to Heaven.
Let me tell you a little bit about her. Why? Because this is my blog, and I can write what I want. And if you don't want to know about her, then you can hit that little X or back arrow up in the corner and you don't have to hear about her :)
First off, everyone calls her Ali, but her real name is Allegro Mono Troppo. If you're a musical person, you probably recognize at least "Allegro". Allegro Mono Troppo means "lively, but not too lively", in reference to the tempo of a musical piece.
Before Ali, we had a black lab named Ebony who was a great dog. She died when she was twelve while my mom, sisters, and I were back east visiting my dad's family. My dad found her in the backyard and she was disposed of before we got home. Which, honestly, for little kids, was probably a good thing.
A few years passed, and I honestly can't ever remember really asking for a new dog. But, Christmas morning of 1998, my mom woke Selah, Jenna, and I up at 6 in the morning and told us to walk down the hall together. This was odd, because, as most humans under the age of 12, it is OUR job to run into the parental's bedroom to wake them up on Christmas morning. But not Christmas of 1998.
My mom told us to walk down the hall together, and as we reached the living room, the dog barked, my dad (who was sitting in the "blue chair" in the corner) released the dog's leash, and the squeals and screams ensued. The red ribbon'd dog ran amongst us barking and wagging her tail. We had a dog! Like Ebony, (the soon to be named) Ali was a black lab. Six months old, house trained, and perfect!
I remember we took her to the elementary school around the corner later that morning. And I remember being terrified as my parents demonstrated their confidence in the dog when they took off her leash and let her run all over the field of the school. I can remember being convinced that she was going to run straight out of one of the three gates on the other side of the school, and that this dog was only going to last us a few hours! But, she didn't. And all was well.
Two days later (the first Sunday) as we left for church, Ali bolted out the gate and took off down the street. My dad went chasing after her, and I thought she was gone for good. But dad caught her and everything was okay.
On a Friday morning the following June, as we were packing up and getting ready to head off to OCF camp for the weekend, Ali got hit by a car. It was early and we were packing up the huge Penske that was parked in front of our house. My dad walked around the truck in the street and Ali (who had been prancing around the front yard as she was used to) decided to chase after him. Only to be stopped in her energetic game by a car zooming down our street. She did a somersault, we all screamed, and she came running over, excited for the new attention! However, for those of us heading off to camp for the weekend, leaving the happy, limping dog was the last thing we wanted. But, we had to go.
I remember clutching a black lab Beanie Baby named Luke the entire bus ride up as I cried and cried, convinced that Ali was dying at home, feeling that most of her family (dad stayed home) had abandoned her. Saturday morning when we were in the dining hall for breakfast, my sisters and I scoured the hall for my mom, expecting to hear the horrible news of the death of our new puppy. When she wasn't there, I was convinced that she was just trying to find the way to tell us, but she just couldn't find the way. Near the end of the meal, she walked in and went to her table. Selah, Jenna, and I ran over to her, holding back our tears. Only for her to tell us that Ali was perfectly fine! Daddy had even spoiled her and let her sleep on the bed. Tears of happiness!
Three more sad/health related things, then I'll get to happy!
A few years later, I want to say it was August of 2002, Ali broke her tail.
We have no idea how it happened, only a theory.
Anyone who's met Ali knows that she is a ridiculously happy dog. And as with most dogs.. Happy dog = wagging tail. Ali's tail wags, and it's strong.
So my theory is that something in the middle of the night got her excited, and the she hit it so hard against a wall that it broke - a testament to the strength of her tail is to look at the dents on the corner of the kitchen island.
I was in Colorado with my grandparents and Selah at the time, and we got the phone call while we were sitting by a river, drinking Starbucks in the town of Estes in the Rockies. It was one of those things that was funny, but only because of how sad it was!
She'd come into my parents room in the middle of the night, and just wouldn't leave them alone. So they got out of bed, and (as most people tend to do with animals) asked her what was wrong. And she responded "Well..". Okay, just kidding. No response, just whimpering.
The thing that's sad about a broken tail is that.. Well.. When a dog won't stop moving, what do you tell it to do? Sit. But, when a dog sits, its tail hits the ground. Which, if it's broken, is painful, so they jump up and whimper. Which causes you to pet them, which causes them to be happy, which causes their broken tail to wag, resulting in more whimpering and moving around, which makes you want to to them to sit down, which...
So yes, sad, but funny.
Anyways, she was taken to the vet, diagnosed.. And they couldn't do anything like give her a cast.. So she just kinda had to suck it up for a few days.
Her tail is now normal.
At some point during my high school years.. She had a stroke. Yes, dogs can have strokes. I don't remember exactly when, or how we realized it. But suddenly.. Half of her face didn't work. She couldn't use one eye. And the drooling, oh, the drooling! Food would get stuck in her mouth and she didn't know. It was so sad! We had eye stuff to give her for her one eye that wouldn't blink. And when she looked at you and "smiled", only half of her face would change. It was so sad!
Now, though, it's funny. Ask any of my friends. I think it's only funny because she didn't die and she stopped drooling. She still stares at us crooked, though.
And the last health issue we've had with her is her tumor.
For the longest time, she had this tumor on her back about the size of half a golf ball. It was no big deal, just something to get used to when petting her. However, in 2009, it started to grow. And not just kind of grow. It sprouted to the size of a softball. It was no longer just something you found if you were petting her. You could see it. From a mile away. It was hard. You could barely put your hand around it.
And mommy, being a sucker for this dog, let her get surgery. We don't know if it was cancerous or anything. But we do know that since she got her Little Friend removed, she suddenly had a ton of energy! It's like the tumor really was a "little friend" and it was sucking the life out of her.
But it's gone. And a dog recovering from anesthesia is entertaining and sad, for the record.
Ali is a funny dog.
Playing instruments around her is amazing and difficult. She matches pitch. She howls, points her nose upward, makes a little, tiny hole with her "lips" and howls. And she doesn't howl because she hates it. If we practice an instrument in a closed room, she'll poke her nose at the door for us to open, and if we don't, she'll sit outside the door. And it is next to impossible to play an instrument with any sort of attempt at an embouchure with that face (which is crooked because of the stroke) staring at you.
She chases her tail. We always joke that she learned how to chase her tail while she was waiting to be adopted because she had no toys. She chases her tail, catches it, and then stops and starts chasing it going the other way.
Ever since getting hit by the car, venturing beyond our yard holds no appeal to her whatsoever. Sometimes she'll bolt out the gate into the front yard with us, and other times she'll just meander out. And when she is out front, she'll just sit there. Or stand there. Sometimes she'll walk up to people that are walking in front of our house, but not until they're actually in front of our house. Same thing with dogs that venture our way. It's nice to have a dog that you don't have to worry about.
In fact, (and this has happened on more than one occasion) I've left for church before around 9 (been the last person to leave my house), and been the first person home at 1.. And the gate hadn't been closed all the way, and Ali got out. However, upon coming home 4 hours later, she was just sitting in front of the gate. Looking like she'd never gone past right where she was.
I love it when it's windy out or there are birds walking on the sky lights. She cries! And whines. Until she gets attention, and then she continues!
She'll bark and sound ferocious towards the lawn men as they walk up to the house, but as soon as the gate is opened, she'll go running behind the pool.
Not so much anymore, but for the first few years, Ali hated us being in the pool. Our pool in an above ground pool, and she can't see in. So she'd patrol the pool, walking around it, and jumping up on the edges to see in. I don't know what she'd do if we had happened to drown (in our 4 ft pool... hah!), but I like to imagine that she'd sprint up the steps of the pool deck, dive in, and try to save us. Doubtful, but I'll pretend.
She loves our family. We always joke that she "counts" us. When we come home form some place, she counts to see if anyone in the family is missing. And it's like she knows if someone's not there. Or, Heaven forbid(!) you leave the house with 4 people, but only come home with 2. And when that happens with suitcases accompanying.. Oh my. You might as well never come home. "You lost them!". It's amazing.
Also, she knows what our cars sound like. Not just what our doors sound like, but the engines. More specifically, my dad's motorcycle. When she hears it coming from around the corner, she'll run into the living room (or wherever my mom is in the house) and bark and whine until she gets up to greet my dad in the garage. It's really, very entertaining.
Oh, and anytime you walk in the door (if she hears you slam the gate), she will greet you with a toy. And add more dents to the kitchen island.
We always call her endearing names like "Stupid", "Ugly", "Four Legged Freak", "Black Haired Smelly Thing".. And she always looks up at us and smiles.
Hahah, We also always joke that she doesn't belong in our family. (Warning: I promise you, we're not racists) "You're black!" "Your hair makes you asian!" "We don't have four legs in this family!".. But, there's no way she belongs any place else other than our household. Besides, the black hair makes Brian not be the only black haired Asian in the family :)
Anyways, that was way more information about my dog than anyone needed to know. All I know is that when she finally does die, which is going to happen.. It's going to be very sad. She's a part of this family. And she's been a great dog.
I think I'll submit this as her Obituary when she dies. Do they do obits for animals?
