Goodbye Miss Twicky...

It was the summer of 2007 and after months of heavy hints that developed into pleading, I finally convinced Andy to get a second dog.  Our other dog Fenway needed a companion.

We spent some time checking out the Atlanta Pet Rescue website (this is where we found Fenway) and their list of available animals. There was a border collie called Jake that we thought looked perfect for Fenway, another playful young dog with lots of energy.

Andy’s aunt Jean had planned a trip to visit, so we decided to go and get the newest member of our family after her stay. Unfortunately, since adoptions work on a first come first serve basis, by the time we arrived, another family was walking out with Jake. I was crushed! I had basically made this dog my own in my mind by that point, and it was like seeing someone else take my dog away. 

The staff at the pet rescue convinced us to take a look at some of their other dogs. As we walked over to the pen, all the dogs rushed over, jumping up, barking and looking at us with their pleading eyes as if to say, “Pick me! Pick me!”

I looked over and saw a basset hound with a sad look in her eye lying in the corner on her own, away from all the other dogs.  Something about this sweet, sad, lonely creature spoke to us, so Andy and I decided to see how she got on with Fenway.  She snuggled right up to us, full of love, but wasn’t as interested in Fenners. In fact, she tried to bite him.

Still, there was something about her. We decided to take her home as a foster initially. We would give her a 1 week trial period to see how she got on with Fenway at home and would return her if it didn’t work out.

           

Pretty quickly, we knew it wasn’t going to work out.

While Fenway was so excited about her and desperate to have a play and run around, she was completely disinterested in him. One moment she would be fine, the next she would be going for his jugular.

The day we brought Twickers home.

July 14, 2007:

"Hey! Let's play!"

"Back off, creep. The snuggles are mine"

I sat down and composed a letter to the Atlanta Pet Rescue, explaining why we would not be able to keep the sad, sweet basset.  This adoption was supposed to provide our dog with a playmate, and we couldn’t trust them alone together. It was an impossible situation.

I cried as I typed from guilt.

We couldn’t return her until Tuesday, so I just wrote the letter and waited.

By Tuesday morning, we had fallen in love with her.  Sure she was crotchety when it came to Fenway, but she was such a sweetheart when it came to us! All she wanted was to be loved. She was desperate for human affection.

So much for Fenway’s playful, energetic, running buddy. We were keeping the lethargic, sleepy, grumpy basset hound.

How could we send back this face???

We decided to name her Twickers, after Twickenham, the England rugby stadium.  Fenway was named after my favorite sports stadium, it was only right our second dog be named after Andy’s.

We think Twicky was used for breeding or maybe even in some kind of a puppy mill at some point. We also think she had been abused. If you would motion to pet her head with quick sudden movements, she would cower as if you were going to hit her.  She didn’t like feet. I think she may have been kicked before meeting us. I think she had previously had to fight for access to food and water the way she would eat and drink.  I still get filled with rage when I think about what her previous “caregivers” had done to her before she came into our care.

Ultimately, she got used to Fenway. Eventually they even became friends. While she was never exactly the energetic playmate I imagined for Fenway, they would still play and have fun in the yard in their own way.  Fenway would run circles around her and she would trip on her ears while desperately trying to catch up.  They hated to be separated.

Best buddies.

Life with Twickers could be pretty Dickensian: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”

Twickers remained aggressive with other dogs, even after she learned to love Fens. She suffered from separation anxiety. She would have “accidents” whenever we brought her to someone else’s house. She’s puked on my white couch, pooped in my car, and once delivered a dead bird to me in bed.

Separation anxiety:
"If you pack this suitcase again, I'm going in it with you!" 

Twickers chewed up my college roommate’s shoes while she was in town for my bachelorette party, she’d figured out how to open our trash cupboard and spread garbage all over the kitchen on more occasions than I can recount, and would rarely come when called.

Maybe she decided Caroline was paying too much attention to Fenway

so she deserved having her shoes chewed?

One day, after a heavy night of drinking, I went to my favorite burger joint, Farm Burger, to pick something up to nurse my hangover. When I got home, I set myself up in front of the TV to watch football and revel in my gluttony.  After setting the burger out on the coffee table, I went to grab something to drink. When I came back, my burger was gone and Twickers was sitting on the couch licking her chops.  She had swallowed the entire thing, probably whole. Paper wrapper and everything.

“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!” I screamed at her.

I put her outside in the cold and told her, “You can just sit out here and think about what you’ve done!!!” I was disconsolate.

I felt guilty after a while and let her back in.  She nestled into her spot on the couch and as I looked over at her, with a single smack of her lips, she gave me a glance that said “totally worth it.”

Serves me right for drinking too much, I guess.

Twicky looks as if she had a few too many herself on this Christmas...

We had some close calls over the years when it came to Twickers’ health. I don’t even want to think about what some of her vet bills have tallied.  She once found a bottle of Aleve I had foolishly left on the coffee table.  While I was cooking dinner one night, I went into the living room to get something and found her with a chewed, empty pill bottle. 

I used hydrogen peroxide to make her throw it up and since I couldn’t be sure that Fenway didn’t get any pills either, we made both dogs drink it.  I’ll never forget the site of having two dogs empty the contents of their guts all over my living room. Thank god for hardwoods.

Since all of Twicky’s piles of puke had a greenish-blue hue from the blue Aleve tablets, we knew it was her. We left the puke and brought her to the emergency vet clinic. I just remember telling them, “Do whatever you can, just save my dog!”  $2,000 and 3 days later, we were assured that she would be fine.

We got a lot of use out of this cone over the years.

But for every naughty act she committed, there were 10 ways I couldn’t have survived without her over the last 6-1/2 years.

She was there with me those days when it felt like my PhD would kill me. I was having terrible days, and would sometimes drive home from lab with tears in my eyes. Andy would try to cheer me up in the elevator and in the car, but nothing he said could ever make my day improve. Then I would walk in the house and she would be there, brimming with excitement. Everyday it was as if she had never been so happy to see anyone ever.

Twickers' internal monologue:
"She spends a lot of time at this computer...

Maybe if I sit here, she'll pet me more."

Nothing makes a dreadful day melt away like a dog who loves you more than anything.  Even more than a good juicy burger.

Last year, I had ACL replacement surgery that was really rough on me.  I was bummed about being laid up, and the narcotics for pain honestly drove me to the edges of sanity at times. Twicky was there by my side from day 1. She only left me to go out and to eat. For days, I would lie in bed, in excruciating pain and floods of tears, snuggled up to my girl. Then as I started rehab, she would get down on the floor with me as I did my exercises, and would come on walks with me through the neighborhood. I couldn’t have made it to the other side without her.

Helping me heal.

In more ways than one.

She did so much in her short 6-1/2 years with us. She has been to the beach and up mountains. She has played in the snow and was carried into the pool for a swim once or twice. She has had endless hours exploring our massive backyard, surveying her land, chasing squirrels and bathing in the sun. We have taken Twicks on 20+ hour drives from Gerogia to Massachusetts, and she was perfect for all of them. I think she just enjoyed being confined to the car with us. All she ever wanted was to be close and to love us.

Lots of snuggles

Lots and lots of snuggles...

Good long walks

Twicky-friendly "hiking" in the mountains

Hilton Head Island

Snow in Connecticut

Snow in Georgia

Chillin' at the pool

Driving to New England

Many different long drives... 

One of those drives to Massachusetts was when my brother, who had leukemia, had suddenly taken a turn for the worst. We decided to get in the car and drive up on a moment’s notice.

My brother died on that trip. For the days that followed his death, and for the heartache that followed me home, Twicky would just let me grab her and squeeze when it felt like my grief would take over. I would practically smother her and she would just submit and let me, as if to say, “you can give me your pain, I’ll bear it for you.” I could not have asked for a better dog to have at the low points in my life.

Healing my broken heart.

The first Christmas after Ron died.

The dog on the left is Tosh, Ron and Steph's dog.

He died just a couple of months ago from lymphoma.

Fuck cancer.

A few weeks ago we noticed Twickers had all these lumps on her body that would come and go. We’ve been to the vet more times that I’d like to admit this year, and since they didn’t seem to be bothering her I ignored them. Then more recently I noticed her third eyelid was inflamed, it would get to the point where she could barely see, then it would suddenly go back to normal. Finally, one night we noticed she was having difficulty breathing and in the morning couldn’t swallow her breakfast.

That afternoon at the vet we learned Twickers had lymphoma.  She would live a week without treatment, a month with steroids and even if we were to make her endure chemotherapy, would still only live 6-9 months. Her disease was incurable.

Since we adopted Twicky as an adult dog, we aren’t sure how old she was.  They told us in 2007 that she was 2, but we never really believed that was accurate – she just seemed a bit older. Still, to learn she was dying was almost more than we could bear. The fact that she would so soon die of essentially the same illness that took my brother only 4 years ago was like a knife to my chest.

My initial reaction was to proceed without treatment and “let her die in peace.” I was so focused on the fact that my brother endured 3 years of chemotherapy and bone marrow transplants that were the ultimate cause of his death. I would not do the same thing to Twickers. What I didn’t realize then was that she would not die in peace without treatment.  Within days of her diagnosis, the lymph nodes in her neck were so swollen she could barely breath, could not swallow her food and even started to lose control of her tongue. It soon became clear that she would either suffocate or starve to death if we didn’t do something.

One night, Andy took her to the vet around 10pm to get a steroid injection. I don’t think she would have made it through the night had we not done that.

The steroids were like a miracle drug. My dog was on death’s door and within hours you would not even know she was sick. It was hard because it lulled us into a false sense that she was cured. I had to constantly remind myself she was still dying, but I was so grateful for the precious extra time to spoil her and say our good-byes.

I am so grateful she was here for Tess’ first birthday. I will never forget the sight of Twickers being snuggled and loved by everyone at the party. Nearly every meal her last 3 weeks of life consisted of pate, gravy or bacon. She even got some birthday cake and rack of lamb.

The steroids, unfortunately, were only ever a temporary fix. And we knew that. When they stopped working, the symptoms would come back suddenly and with a vengeance. I could not bear the thought of letting her suffer even worse than she had those few days before beginning the steroids.

Twickers died the day before Christmas Eve in our loving arms. She peacefully passed into the afterlife without suffering, without pain and without stress or worry.

Our last photo as a family of 5.

Christmas 2011.

Christmas 2010.

Christmas 2009.

Christmas 2008.

We had some good Christmases together over the years.

Very sad we didn't have one more together...

It has been almost 2 weeks and the pain of her absence stings. The house feels empty. Hallow. Eerily quiet.

Twickers had such a huge personality, and was such a central figure in our lives, that her absence is palpable. Every night while putting Tess to bed, Twickers would be there, during bathtime, for the diaper change, during story time. During meals, Twickers would park herself under Tess’ highchair, poised and ready for something to drop.  She would also be there to demand her own dinner (or breakfast), doing her “dinner dance” as we called it, shaking her butt in the air while letting out a hushed bark. But now... bedtime... mealtimes, all quiet.

This dog loved to eat.

My heart aches for these rituals. I long for those behaviors that had been “such a nuisance” to me for so long. I would scold Twickers for always being right under my feet as I carried Tess out of the tub, terrified of what would happen to the slippery little eel in my arms had I tripped over the dog. I would be stressed, preparing Tess’ dinner and my own, and there would be Twickers demanding hers as well. Some nights it was far more than my patience could handle.

Since Tess came into my life, my focus has completely shifted to her. Before Tess, my dogs were my whole world, but since she came along... my patience for the dogs would just run thin so quickly at times. 

The guilt I feel for the times I would lose my temper, the times I would be hard on Twickers, and for the times I thought “Life would be so much easier without these dogs!!!” is almost overwhelming.

Very sad these two aren't going to get more time together.

Luckily for me… the great thing about dogs is that they love unconditionally. I know that even at my worst, she still loved me. If I left her for hours and hours while I was working in the lab, I knew she would forgive me. If I didn’t pet her or pay her any attention all day long, but needed a quick snuggle right before bed, she would be there. I don’t know what I would have done without that unconditional love, endless support and absolute devotion. During my moments of gut-wrenching guilt, I remember that Twickers really did have a great life here with us and she was happy.

Lake Allatoona

At the drive-in movie in the park

Helping with the gardening

Snuggling

"Sorry, this is our bed now.

You can sleep in the ones on the floor."

So much love.

And naps.

Playing croquet

Pre-baby, preggo-snuggles

Post-baby, exhausted snuggles

Dogs play an amazing role in our lives. We know they will only be with us for a few years, and we know how great the pain is when they leave us, but it is still so very worth it for what they give us during those short years together.  Twickers was only with us 6-1/2 years, but I will never forget her and the huge place she will always hold in my heart. There is truly no love like a dog's love.

After everything, I am so glad that border collie went home with another family.