Woman's Best Friend

What a difficult December.
My 13 year old dog, Fiona, got really sick. Like really, oh no this might be it, sick.

I got Fiona 12 years ago from the ASPCA. I went in looking for my first dog, confident that I was ready to take on the responsibility of a pet. Little did I know that this pet would also be my best friend. The person who interviewed me said they had a small dog available but weren't showing her to a lot of people. She had been through a lot and needed to be paired with someone special. She walked me over to a room and told me to look through the window. There I saw a little skin and bones red min pin chihuahua mix pup curled up on a chair with a bright pink cast on her left hind leg. As soon as Fiona caught a glimpse of us, she started barking so we scurried away. I was told another person was interested in her and that my application would be looked at and I would hear from her. A week later, I got the call that she was mine. I went back to the ASPCA and where the woman placed Fiona in my arms and said to have a happy life. What, no advice? No orientation? Nope, just here. Take your malnourished, shaking dog with the broken leg and go be happy.
When I left there, I wanted to cry. Here was this broken dog who was terrified and me who was terrified, taking a cab to her forever home. I tried to get her to kiss me. Nothing. I tried to get her to look at me. Nothing but as soon as she stepped foot inside, this dog who wouldn't even make eye contact with me, did zoomies around the apartment and couldn't stop smiling. She finally looked at me and gave me a kiss. I saved her and she knew that and she thanked me.
When I had my stroke, Fiona would not leave my side. She comforted me, cuddled with me, slept with me. If someone came over to me when I was resting, she growled. She was my ever protective nurse. And now, my ever protective nurse, my friend, my first pet, was sick. The vet thinks she too, had a stroke. It's so hard to watch your pet in pain. They can't tell you how they are feeling or what hurts. You don't know exactly how to make them feel better other than to just hold them, pet them, call them good dogs and love them up as best you can. That's not good enough for me, not for my Fiona. It had been so hard to watch her in pain and not know what to do. It took 2 weeks for her medicine to help her enough so that she can walk again and eat on her own. I am impatient. I know. My boyfriend had to remind me that I had to give her time. He had to remind me how I was impatient to heal but I couldn't be that way for her. I could have the hope he did; that recovery could be slow but steady so today I am hopeful that she is going to continue to improve. She's an old girl I know, and one day, she will pass, but that day won't be today.
She's my nurse and my friend and I won't give up on her just like she didn't give up on me.