My dog Katy died on Saturday evening. She suffocated on a bag. We were gone for only 15 minutes to pick up some dinner, and in that short time she got her head stuck in a plastic bag and couldn’t free herself. I feel so guilty — I should have picked up the bag before we left. I’ll never get that image of her lying there on the floor out of my memory, but that’s OK, because as awful as it was, I don’t want to forget. We tried to do CPR, but it was too late — she was already gone.
That fat little dog was so lively, sweet, loving, and funny. I always have a hard time remembering her age because she still acted like a puppy. I think I adopted her in 2003 and she was about 1 and 1/2 when I adopted her, which would make her only about 8 and 1/2 years old. Her bright, brown eyes had not started to cloud with age and she hadn’t started getting any of the aches and creaks of the elderly. When we went to the park on Saturday morning, she was chasing Molly and Buster like a dog half her age. She was doing her trademark moves, upside-down and sideways digging, on Saturday afternoon.
Molly and Buster seem to be very sad. Katy’s death has changed the entire personality of my family. For the first time in years, no one woke me up by prancing across me and licking my face. No one has been demanding walks or trips in the car. No one has come and shoved his or her head under my hand to demand attention. I miss every part of her — her silly brindle markings, how she smells, the little notch missing from her left ear from a fight with Trudy, how she was always a clown. I’ve never met another Beagle/pit bull mix and I’ve always wondered if there were 4 or 5 or 6 other dogs in the world like Katy. I imagine that if even she did have littermates, she was still a completely unique dog. Give your dogs and cats a big hug today and every day. They are little furry miracles and we are all lucky to be able to share our lives with them. I miss you, Katy.
