Goodbye, you big, goofy girl

Last week we had to put Sofie to sleep. Feelings are tender still, and were we not about to open our home to another needy dog I’d probably not even write about it now. But it might be confusing if I introduce a new member of the family without explaining what happened to the previous one.

Sofie came into our lives a little over five years ago. We had just had to put Lady, our first dog, down after prolonged illness. I didn’t think we’d be getting another dog for several weeks to months. The feelings were too raw. Lady was a sweetheart, and while she was clearly no longer enjoying life, you still can only hope they understand why you would let them go like that. But Sofie soon came onto our radar through the local Humane Society where Terhi volunteered at the time. She was an older dog, a rotweiler-hound mix, and she hated being cooped up at the shelter. She hated it so badly she was going nuts, and the staff were convinced she wasn’t adoptable.

Fortunately for us all, a volunteer took a liking to her and offered to take her home and foster her to see if she could get her to relax in a more calm environment. It worked, but she couldn’t keep her. We got the news and decided to check things out.

We soon took Sofie home with us, though one of the first things we did was to change her name from Riley to Sofie. She fit right in. She was energetic and sociable, something Lady was too old and sick to be very often, and the kids took to her more. She shared Terhi and I as her main people.

There were some quirks, of course. We have no idea what her previous life was like, but she didn’t like being touched. She was generally happy and easy-going, but she liked a bit of distance. She occasionally liked to play, but somewhat distant games, like tug of war, catch,  and it usually wasn’t her idea. She would endure being petted for a moment, then walk away. She never bit–she would growl at the kids a little–but she wouldn’t stick around and put up with it when she was uncomfortable. The exception was playing with a flashlight. If you had a flashlight out, invited or not, she would chase the beam. It was her most favorite thing on earth.

She changed over time. As she grew to trust and love us she began to initiate playing and petting. She would still slink off and hide if any of us started yelling, even if it wasn’t at her, and she was extremely sensitive about our examining her, even visually. But more and more she enjoyed being with us, being petted, and getting attention. She developed her favorite foods that she would relentlessly beg for whenever we had them, like oatmeal and pancakes. She became one of the family, and always insisted on being wherever we were.

She was not a loud dog by any means. She was always just there. That’s probably why I grew so fond of her. She was company. She clearly liked being near me. She’d come check on me from time to time, even if she was hanging around Terhi primarily. She’d meet me at the door when I came home. She’d sleep by our bed. And she was always forgiving if I stepped on her accidentally getting up in the night.

She was just a calm, loving soul, content to be in our lives and join in our fun. She liked walking with Terhi and I, but if the entire family was going for a walk and invited her along she’d start jumping with excitement. Or if you offered her her favorite treats. Or offered to let her come on a car ride.

She also had long, goofy ears that drooped when she was relaxed, but perked up like radar dishes when she was happy, curious, or excited. She had a big, goofy grin, full of big, wet tongue. Now and then she’d play a most undignified game where she’s roll on her back, bending herself to one side or the other, and flick her tail toward her mouth until she caught it. It was hard not to laugh to watch, but she would get a little self-conscious if she realized you were paying attention. She was a happy dog, she showed it, and it was contagious.

Gradually we noticed signs she was starting to slow down. She wouldn’t pull as hard heading out on her walks. She’d tire quicker playing flashlight (her nightly non-negotiable activity). Her hearing began to go. Her eyesight became increasingly questionable. But through it all she remained the same old Sofie. She was aging, but she still loved life.

Then a few weeks ago things really headed downhill fast. She began throwing up every other day or so, sometimes more often. Her appetite diminished. So we took her to the vet, who decided she had stomach ulcers. But the ultrasound also showed that she had a cancerous mass in her spleen. We approved surgery to have it removed. While the vet was inside he found another cancerous spot in a complicated place that would require more delicate surgery, so he needed to check with a specialist. Meanwhile we made her comfortable while she healed from the surgery. Things seemed to be progressing well.

Then suddenly a lump of fatty tissue she’d had for years began swelling, making it painful for her to lay down. She took to pacing the house, panting, until she couldn’t stand any more, then lay down and sleep, then repeat the process. We took her back to the vet, who decided it had become cancerous, too, and gave us some medication to try to reduce the swelling and make her comfortable while we got more information on our options. They medications didn’t help, and soon her entire side was swollen and sore. We took her back again, and it was decided that she would not get much better than that, even if they could operate successfully. It was time to let her go.

It’s a terrible decision to have to make. We watched home videos over the weekend of how Sofie was when we first got her, running around like crazy chasing after us, running up and down the play gym at the park. Contrasting that with how she was at the end, head down, slowly and painfully pacing around and around, trying to lay down only to have it hurt too much and get back up again, panting and panting, drinking water constantly, but eating only when she couldn’t stand the hunger any more…

She’s at peace now, and no longer in pain. We like to think she’s comparing notes with Lady, and the two of them are looking down on us, curious to see who we take into our hearts next.

Goodbye, Sofie, you wonderful dog. You were the epitome of everything good about dogs. We love you, and we know you loved us. Until we’re together again…