The Holden Family

Our sweet Chloe died yesterday. She was 15 years old. In January of 2008, we were told Chloe had Lympho-sarcoma, and the prognosis without treatment gave her a few weeks to a few months to live. Being 13 years old at that time, with cocker spaniels living an average of 14 years, and given that she was completely deaf and partially blind from cataracts, we just didn’t see the sense in putting her through chemotherapy. We chose a plan of comforting care, and we told the kids she had cancer. They cried and cried that afternoon, Matthew especially, and they began that night praying for Chloe every single day. Each evening prayer began with “Please help Chloe get better” from all three kids.

I believe God answered that prayer in abundance. Chloe remained stable for two years after that afternoon. We watched her closely for signs of weakening or pain, but saw none. She still ate and drank, still chased cats in the yard and barked at the postman, and she still remained the sweetest dog you could ever imagine. About two weeks ago, I noticed a new tumor on Chloe’s shoulder. This one was hard and lumpy, not like the soft but enlarged lymph nodes that indicated her cancer elsewhere. And this one she had scratched open, so it bled daily and would not heal. I decided this week that it was time to take her back to the vet. Chris was with me, and in the vet’s waiting room, I happened to notice a thick feeling to Chloe’s ear as I petted her. I lifted her ear to find another open tumor, this one badly infected.

Dr. Muller, our vet, confirmed what our hearts feared. Chloe’s cancer had taken over her poor little body. The lymph nodes that should have been the size of a grain of corn had swelled all over her body, most as large as walnuts, and her immune system had been wiped out. There was nothing the vet could do to help her, and she was suffering. Dr. Muller said, “I have no medical explanation for why she has lived these two years. The cancer should have claimed her in six months at best.” The explanation is that God gave us a gift of extra time.

We took Chloe home for one last day at home. We wanted the children to have a chance to say goodbye. During the day, I let Chloe do whatever she wanted, sleep wherever she wanted. Usually we block the dogs’ access to the upstairs, but Chloe took advantage of the freedom to sleep in Matthew’s room for the afternoon. She found a bright spot of sunlight on the fllor where Matthew had left his bed pillow by perfect coincedence. Matthew’s room was once Mom’s office, and I know Chloe felt more at home there than anywhere. I believe she felt closer to Mom there.

My dad came over in the late afternoon, since Chloe was such a special part of his life as well. We all sobbed and hugged, and surrounded Chloe with love. It was excrutiating to see the kids in such grief. They have never experienced the death of a pet. It took some convincing to help them understand that euthanizing Chloe was the loving thing to do, that she was suffering greatly and that things would only get worse. I don’t know that I’ll ever get over the memory of seeing Matthew and Stephen as they held Chloe, not wanting to let her go.

Dad and I noticed that her breathing was somewhat labored, especially when she laid down. During the night, she coughed a lot. I think the large tumors/lymph nodes in her neck were compressing her windpipe. The next morning, the kids said one more goodbye before school, with many more tears. We shared a family hug. It hurt so much to anticipate what the day would bring. We had an appointment at the vet at 10:45. I gave Chloe lots of treats that morning, some of her favorite dog treats, some sausage, and some cheese. Chris and I spent some time just cuddling with her on the couch. We brought Lindy into our group, and though I don’t think she knew what was happening, it helped me to think that she had the chance to say goodbye to her sister as well.

It was surreal knowing the exact amount of time Chloe had left to live. It was hard not to second guess our decision, especially when I let her outside for a run and saw her trotting across the yard with her tail wagging. It was hard not to feel that I should be apologizing to Mom for letting Chloe go. All these years, I’ve felt so much responsiblility for Chloe, and have even felt like I haven’t done such a good job of caring for her, with my time and energy stretched across a large family with many pets. I know Mom knows I did the best I could.

Finally at the last minute, I picked up my camera. I wasn’t sure if it was right to be taking photos of Chloe. It almost felt morbid. But I wouldn’t get a second chance for these photos, and I knew I wanted one last shot of Chloe and Lindy together. Two beautiful sisters who were so lucky to share their lives together. Chris helped me finish the pictures and then we gathered Chloe to leave. As we walked out the door to the garage, I turned back to see Lindy in the kitchen watching us go. Her eyes were curious and sad. She knew.

At the vet, I held Chloe in my lap as we waited, stroking her back and rubbing her ears as she loved. She shook with fear when we first arrived but she calmed own. When they called us back, they had a towel spread on the counter on which she could lay, and she was quite calm to rest there. She didn’t try to get down or get away. Dr. Muller gave her a shot to make her fall asleep. I talked to her and rubbed her face as she drifted off, crouching beside her so she could see my eyes. Within a few minutes, she fell asleep very serenely. It was quiet and peaceful. Dr. Muller gathered her in his arms to carry her to the back, and I said, “Goodbye, Sweet Girl.” And that was it.

Chloe was my mother’s dog. When our first cocker spaniel, Corky, died at age 14 of congestive heart failure, my mother wasn’t sure when she wanted to get another dog. I pushed her though. I had recently graduated from college and was living at home for a while as I looked for a job. I had the idea that we would both get puppies from the same litter, and they could grow up together, even after I moved out on my own. We read the ads for cocker spaniel puppies and went to see a few. We lastly visisted a private family dog owner in Lilburn, who had 2 puppies left from her dog’s recent litter. They were pure-bred cockers but not champion lines. Exactly what we wanted … less risk for the negative inbreeding effects of cockers. Lindy was a dark beige with a face full of freckles, who jumped right in my lap and licked my face. She chose me. And Chloe was a light buff color, shy and sweet, who curled into Mom’s arms when she picked her up. They were perfectly matched as well. Chloe and Lindy came home with us that night.

Raising Chloe and Lindy was an adventure. Our vet told us, having two puppies at once was like having twin toddlers … what one didn’t think of, the other one would. It was true. I remember sitting on the floor in the evenings, exhausted from chasing puppies all day, holding a raw hide bone in each hand, a puppy chewing on each, just so they would sit still for a while. It was very sweet watching the sisters grow up together. We loved seeing how they’d curl up asleep together, looking like identical twins at time with synchronized breathing and sleeping positions. They were adorable playing in the yard, wrestling like wolf pups. They taught each other that biting hurts, so we didn’t have to. Sweet Chloe wasn’t the brighter of the two. She was put on this earth to love, not to think. It took her a while to learn her name, and when she did … when she finally realized that “Chloe” meant her, the look on her face when we called her name was almost giddy. Lindy learned everything else first as well. She learned to climb the steps first, leaving Chloe whimpering at the bottom. She also learned to jump onto the couch first. Now THAT was a funny process to watch. Lindy would sit on the couch looking down at Chloe, taunting her. Chloe tried jumping from sitting at first, getting very little loft in the attempt. Next she tried jumping from standing in front of the couch, but she would only jump straight up, not forward, so she’d land right back where she started. Then she got the idea that she needed to get a running start. She’d start back in the foyer and charge toward the sofa. But she’d start her jump too early, taking flight in the middle of the living room and landing about a foot in front of the couch, into which she would then crash head first! Poor Chloe! Her slow learning style and her way of generally ambling through life earned her the nickname, “Chloe Turtle”. But even without those extra IQ points, she knew how to love, and she did it better than any dog I’ve ever known.

When the pups were about a year old, I got my first apartment, and Lindy and I moved out. Mom heard the strangest sound one night. She couldn’t identify its source or location at first, but soon she found it … Chloe sitting in my bedroom downstairs, crying. It was something between a moan and a howl, Mom told me later. Chloe was devastated that her sister was gone. We made it a point right away to let the girls have time together as much as possible, so Lindy and I would visit a couple times each week, and Mom would bring Chloe whenever she came to visit me. The girls adapted to our new living arrangements soon enough and they always remained very close.

Chloe’s devotion to mom was unwavering. When Mom’s cancer came, and when the effects of the chemo weakened her, Chloe declined as well. She lost weight and her coat lost it sheen. She was ailing like her master. When Mom went into remission, Chloe’s health improved as well. She plumped up, and the spring came back in her step. When Mom died, it was only right that Chloe would come live with us. She knew no other family, and I hoped Lindy would offer her some comfort. Chloe grieved tremendously. I never heard the crying from her as Mom did when Lindy and I left. I think that was because our departure was unexpected. She didn’t know why or where Lindy had disappeared. But I believe she knew, she understood, that Mom was gone. Her instincts must have helped her recognize the natural end of Mom’s life. And so she didn’t cry for her return. But she did grieve. She aged so much in the years after that. I now saw her and Lindy side by side each day, and Chloe seemed like an old lady next to her twin.

Chloe found comfort in Lindy, but more so, she found comfort in Matthew. He was two years old when Mom died. I don’t know what drew her to him. It certainly wasn’t that she had a general fondness for kids, especially loudy, noisy ones who pulled her ears. Perhaps it was that she felt close to Mom when she was with Matthew, that she felt Mom’s presence hovering close to the grandson she loved so much. Or perhaps it was that she made a promise to mom to care for Matthew, to protect him and love him now that Mom was gone. Even when he was off at school or playing outside, I often found Chloe asleep in his room, in the beam of sunlight that came through the window over his bed. Their bond held fast the rest of her life.

Of course, my kids have asked me if our pets go to Heaven. Scripture does not give us a definite answer. But I want to believe they do. They are God’s creatures after all, and they love us unconditionally as He does. For many of us, they teach us what unconditional love truly is. Creatures of such devotion, such purpose, such love … what would Heaven be if they weren’t with us? I believe Chloe is in Heaven now. I believe she and Mom shared a joyful reunion, and I believe Mom greeted her with hugs and belly rubs, and praise for a job well done on earth. Good girl, Chloe. Good girl.