Over the years I've read all the posts from people that had pets die. I always sympathized deeply with them. But, I never really understood how deep their pain was, until now.
On Saturday (9/29/2007) afternoon, our beloved Hannah, a beautiful blue brindle, American Staffordshire Terrier, died of either pneumonia, a bacterial or fungal infection of the lungs or cancer. She was just six years old. She showed no signs of discomfort until two days before she passed. Her ailments were treated aggressively and we had no idea they were serious. Up until Saturday morning we expected her to come home.
Neither my wife nor I were in any way prepared for this. I knew I loved Hannah very, very much. I knew she was truly part of the family. I never knew I would cry so much. I never knew it would hurt this much. I never dreamed it would feel like part of me would die with her.
Hannah was the happiest creature I have ever seen. Her body was constantly wiggling from wagging her tail so hard. She never met a person or dog, cat, etc that she didn't like. I never, not once, saw any signs of aggression. When she ran she would get so excited she would leap repeatedly, almost as if she was singing “wheeeeee”. She was the most strong willed animal anyone (the breeder, vets, etc) had ever seen – when I would give her a command, she would often look my direction, lock eyes with me (as if to say, “yes, I hear you”) and then slowly look away and ignore me – then with a stronger command (or two, or three…), she would comply and start wagging, as if to say “I was just playin’”. She was clumsy. I'd catch her not watching where she was going, then run into a wall (or something similar), she'd look around to see if anyone had seen it, and if so, she's put her head down and wag - as if she were embarrassed. She had the mannerisms of a line-backer – and she was weird strong. She felt like a dog four times her size. But, she was also incredibly gentle at the same time. She would go "crazy" (with my help) playing tug. But, if my finger ever got in her mouth with the tug toy as she readjusted her grip/bite (which happened regularly), somehow she always felt it and stopped. I once caught her prancing around the backyard and I noticed she had something hanging out of her mouth. Thinking it was a dead animal, I told her to drop it. When she did, the baby bird that was in her mouth (what I had seen had been wings) flew away, seemingly unscathed! But, more than anything, she was affectionate. More so than any dog I have ever seen. She was always curled up next to my wife or me (she periodically alternated), usually with her head comfortably resting on our arm, thigh, etc. She was special.
She will be missed.
