Losing My First Love

A couple of days ago I had to relieve my girl Ruth of her pain. She lost the ability to walk on her own and often was quite confused about it. She was also developing other similar joint and back issues that were normal for her age, size, and breed. This did not make the decision easier or harder, but just verified that it was the right thing to do. She was my first and longest love. It was unconditional, undying and never changed. This is a little story about our time together over ten years. It is short for a ten year recollection and highly abbreviated, but I can't possibly recall every graphic detail in this article. My hope is that this article illustrates just how much this dog changed my life, healed me, and continued to help me. She was the first person in my life that I felt loved me unconditionally and I could love back, and that made her truly my first love. This is our little story.

A SERVICE RELATIONSHIP

​I was issued Ruth as a service dog from Canines For Service out of North Carolina to help me walk and to also help me be more independent and to brave the public square. Somehow, she did that, though I believe it was because I viewed her presence in public as attracting unwanted attention due to it being cute and unique to see a service dog at work. Gradually I started to learn to balance alone and do better alone, though I found that I really needed someone to share memories with. What better friend than a dog that can do laundry, open doors, and do all these fancy tricks? Yup, she was my adventure pal. When she was at work, she was happy, but once she was relieved of duty, she would just find a spot to lay down.

​I started leaving her at home whenever she would give me even a little sign that she was not in the mood to go that day. She however always loved going to college with me and going to stores, but just going for an exploratory drive was just boring for her, it seemed. But she was the quietest and easiest dog to drive with, until her panting fogged up the windows uncontrollably. That is something I can laugh about today, but it caused me such irritation that I could not control what I interpreted as irrational anxiety.

​As the months went on and I tried out being on my own and interacting with people, she saw more home time. My parents conveyed how much she missed me, but when I was home, she seemed distant and disinterested unless food or adventure was involved. She never really seemed to just come up and check out how I was doing unless she needed food on schedule or to go potty. Often when she went potty, the best thing she loved doing was moving like lightening to chase bunnies. Oh, the power she had was magnificent and annoyed the hell out of me. When just trying to take her for a walk, I had to control a beast that could support me doing pushups off of her. So yeah, she was strong and brutish when she wasn’t working. These irritations forced me to pay attention more to her behavior and try to apply corrections to behavior as it was still in the thinking stage. Basically, I got REALLY good at anticipating and correcting her behavior just by how she moved or when or how long she did something. We became this well-oiled machine. At about two years in, she became a part of me like an extra appendage.

​As time went on and I desired more social life, she saw less work time, and more spoilage and rest days. I figured that she would appreciate just hanging out and being a dog for a while here and there. And sometimes, I really felt like she just didn’t care about me unless food was involved. She didn’t need or want me except to go outside or get food because she never asked for anything else. I tried to get her to fetch or play with toys, but all she knew was work. I felt like work was different, so I tried to do the best I could to give her non-work recreation. Things like letting her just walk around the yard while I mowed the lawn on the riding mower was the best. She would pick a spot at the end of the house sidewalk that overlooked nearly the entire side yard. She would bathe in the sun and just WATCH me mow, occasionally getting a whiff of something in the air and pointing her nose up to investigate. Those were her golden days of free dog times, I feel.

After a few years living with my parents, I moved with a new wife in a rushed marriage to Alaska. It was going to be a new life and I was going to be doing it with my reliable and trusty Ruthy. If anything happened, as long as I had her, everything would be great. Well, it did not take long before my new wife started showing contempt for Ruth. Ruth would burst out an opening door with huge excitement and completely neglect the safety of anyone near or at the door. When I was the victim on occasion, I took it quite personally. She seemed to completed disregard my presence for some outside time. This was the start of the dark years for me. I started feeling like I was not going to get much use out of her and that it was time to retire her because she seemed to be really tired and someone hesitant to do certain commands. She spent more time sleeping, but still loved being on rides and adventures, so we did whenever we both wanted to get out. I would ask her if she wanted to go for a ride, and if she got up, we would go, but if not, that was okay too.

During the last year of my short marriage, Ruth became more and more necessary for me. My wife became meaner and even threatening to Ruth. She was offended that I seemed to love Ruth more than I loved her, my own wife. Well, the meaner she got, the more Ruth became my best pal. We got incredibly bonded. It was a protective relationship as well as one where she was helping me enjoy life. She would get to sniff around on mountain walks and see the sights, and I would follow and see what this amazing creature saw. She was my guide through these bad times but also, I needed to protect her because she was starting to show signs of slowing down and a little bit of limping. The vet just figured it was atrophy from being sedentary. This is really what sparked me being protective and making sure we bonded. I had to keep her moving and working to stay strong, and all it did was piss off my wife. My marriage reached a boiling point and Ruth was all I had for unconditional and reliable love and trust. She was my everything. If I hadn’t relished her existence before, I did now.

During my divorce, I was an emotional wreck and did what I could to thank Ruth for being there for me and show her that things were better and she was safe. Unfortunately, she started really degrading physically after the divorce. I figured I was just asking too much of her weak legs and decided to back off. But I would still take her on walks almost daily and get her to jog a bit. The last long walk we did was with my girlfriend when we did a long walk around the neighborhood with her. By the end of the walk, Ruth was having some issues, but I just figured it was weak muscles. Nothing could stop her for sure, right? This really started me feeling like there was something going on, but the decline was gradual and almost unnoticeable. I was moving on with life, working on myself, and bringing all the creatures with me. I didn’t focus strictly on Ruth so maybe that makes me evil. But whenever there was a dog that I wanted to take, I considered if Ruth could go too.

​After a year of her progressively getting worse and falling a good amount from simple things like turning a corner, I took her to the vet and was really worried despite my agitation at the vet bill anticipation. An X-ray was conducted and the vet doctor found that she had damn near no cartilage or connective tendons due to natural joint decay. She was also showing signs of the beginning of terrible hip arthritis and spinal cord twisting. All of this is normal for active big dogs apparently. The best advice was to keep her weight down and do consistent exercise. This really started to scare me. Ruth was failing, and she was in pain. Oh my god, I have to help her and keep her strong and happy forever. She can’t leave like this. She was supposed to have some kind of cancer that would threaten her life but not intrude on her happiness or ability to be a big dumb brute when she so pleased. This effectively ended a lot of her going out to stores because the walks were just too much. It was all about what she wanted to do at home now.

​I was able to give her a good Thanksgiving, Christmas, and have her on my 32nd Birthday. She had been getting better and spritelier. She was controlling herself and seemed to be handling herself better with less help from me. Okay, good. When it is her time to go, it will be okay and I will be ready because I made her happy as best I could. But on Febuary 3rd, she took a nasty fall while going potty which had not happened, but merely illustrated that she couldn’t continue doing something as simple as pooping or peeing without problems. And she has never liked going potty with me right next to her. I was not in denial about what it meant for her. This was it and throughout the day, she really struggled to keep going. I had to stop her pain so I scheduled her to be put to rest in the afternoon. I started panicking and got angry at the situation that I was going to have a major life change, but even more worried about my babies’ pain. I had no good pain killers that would truly help relieve the pain, but the best thing I could do was give her a good send off while she still had some dignity.

​The day was a good one for us all. My girlfriend and I loaded Ruth up in my vehicle with her favorite dog bed and headed out one more time. Ruth enjoyed sitting front and center in the back while staring out the front to see the incoming road. She hadn’t been able to do that for a long time and I was glad she got that this time, especially. We went to the spot me and Ruth took our first selfie at Hatcher Pass as the dynamic duo on our first solo adventure in Alaska. She loved it up there so it was a frequent visiting and smelling spot for her.

​Ruth was able to walk around for about 5 minutes and did some smelling, but really wanted to follow me where I went, which warmed my heart so much. She was able to go only about twenty feet before her legs gave out on the way back to the vehicle. Even with help, she couldn’t hold herself up. This broke my heart but I stayed strong and did what any friend and father of a good baby would do. I immediately scooped her up and gently got her in the vehicle. This hurt my heart because I was hoping this mountain walk would give a sign. She is fine, she can walk forever, and it is not her time. As tough as I was, I knew it was now for sure ending. I had no idea how to handle this, honestly. I was just SCARED to lose my rock. She was my center and my everything. Her needs were always first for me to consider. She had to be okay, and then everything else could be put into place. If she was alright, then I could carry on, but these last few months, she needed me a lot. Sadly, I neglected all the dogs from car rides because I didn’t want Ruth to feel left out, but I often found her on the house cameras barking at the silence while the other dogs just slept. Was that her crying out for me to come home, or just reacting to a noise she heard? I will never know, but my grieving mind likes to tell me that she was crying out for me and that I was just neglecting her. This has caused me a lot of tears.

​After Hatcher Pass, we took Ruth to say goodbye to my girlfriend’s niece and then went to McDonalds one last time for some spoilage. For months, I had to watch her food intake to get her weight down to prevent the burden it put on her joints. That didn’t matter anymore, but not too much to where she might puke. A double quarter pounder and a medium fry was her last meal. She did not appreciate the patty being incredibly hot, but was sure happy with the consistent fries I fed her.

​Then It was time to go. It will hurt to retell the story about her leaving, so I will just say that it was occasion of heartbreak and absolute panic all in one. This was not me losing my dog. This was me losing the person who gave me strength, was an example for being brave, and forced me to be better, but was always there for me no matter what I needed, and she was happy to do it for me with a wagging tail and a smile. She offered me all her talent and all she asked for was praise and a smile or a small treat. She was easy to please and offered so much fun and happiness in return.

​I did my best to repay Ruth for her service and keep my temper to a minimum with her when she did something that crossed a line like being a brute, hopping on the table or counter, or almost hurting herself or others from not being careful and paying attention. Sometimes I failed and was hard on her, but was very sorry after and tried desperately to tenderly make up for it in a way she understood. This usually meant using overwhelming reward as somewhat of an apology and a way of thanking her for putting up with me as much as she does. Every time it seemed I had made good on it, so I shouldn’t beat myself up too much. Right now, I am just confused and looking for her. It is times like these that I am starting to hope that spirits and souls are real, because it is times like now when I am scared that I would turn to her and her alone. My other two dogs seem to be changed a bit. Q seems to be showing more controlled and mellow behavior right away, and Romulus isn’t being so flighty from me. I don’t know what it is but I am finding myself hoping more than anything that Ruth is in them and when they are just staring at me, it is Ruth saying hello from a happy place as my guardian angel.

Ruth was the first one I really truly trusted, relied on, and wanted in my life. I can definitely say she was absolutely the first love I ever had, and after ten years she is gone.