Losing

I don’t like losing.  I never have.  Whenever I play games and I know that I’m about to lose, something comes over me that I can’t explain.  I can feel the control slipping away from me.  Not being able to do something about it is agonizing.  This has of course gotten better as I’ve grown, but that feeling is always there, a little.  When Franco ran away Thursday, I felt this same feeling.  I was calling and calling him, just waiting for him to come running full speed at the sound of my voice.  He always did.  I wasn’t worried at first.  I had just checked on him and he was sitting on the step as he always did.  He was predictable, or so I thought.  Never in a million years did I think he would run away.  From the day we got him, we realized he was scared of Everything, except me.  He loved me.  It was like he knew his purpose was to help me heal, which it was.  Jimmy picked him out and although he hid under the chair for a short time, once I held him we both knew that he was going home with us.  From that day on he chose to be by my side 99% of the time.  And the 1% he didn’t choose me, he could be easily persuaded by a simple command from me.  This is why I didn’t worry when I was calling for him.  But then a few minutes passed and he still didn’t come.  That’s when panic sunk in and terrible thoughts started running through my mind.  I walked around the neighborhood asking everyone and anyone if they’d seen a little Chihuahua.  A boy on a bike said he went towards the school and a lady in a van confirmed it.  I immediately started running that way, calling with desperation in my voice.  The lady in the van asked me if she could drive me and helped me look for over a half hour.  In the meantime my mom was looking too.  I called the police, put it on facebook.  I was desperate.  I eventually asked to be dropped off at my house and started on my bike.  This didn’t make sense to me….he would never do this.  I was trying to think like Franco.  I knew he didn’t like to walk on the grass, so I was checking main roads and bike paths.  This scared me because he was so tiny and the chances of him getting hit by a car were great.  That fear was soon confirmed.  After looking for over an hour, the animal hospital called.  I cried a huge sigh of relief when they said they had Franco, but that was soon followed by a terrified cry when they said he’d been hit by a car.  If you’ve seen Franco, then you know that his little body was no match for anything on 4 wheels.  She said he was stable and I rushed to Rescued Heart Animal Hospital as fast as I could.  When the doctor brought him in, she warned me that his hind end was beat up pretty bad, but I could see his tail.  As soon as he saw me, he started wagging it, as he always did.  But he was on major pain meds and he looked completely worn.  He wouldn’t even lick my hand or face and it broke my heart.  I could see I was losing him, but I couldn’t think like that.  So my mind shifted into mommy mode.  I wrapped my arms around him, kissed his absolutely adorable little face and told him I was so sorry.  I cried imagining the pain his little body was enduring and there wasn’t anything I could do.  I was out of control of the situation and I could hardly bear it.  I told the vet he loved blankets and thanked her for keeping him wrapped up.  I told her that he liked Pupperoni treats and that he wouldn’t eat their food because he was so picky and probably super scared. 
     She asked for permission to do x-rays, which I immediately consented to.  I never dreamed I’d be in this spot, having to make these decisions so soon.  We only had him 4 months.  I told her to do whatever she needed to do to help him.  Dr. Newcomb was so kind and helped calm me a bit.  I was alone and so I just prayed and prayed that God would save my little puppy.  When I walked out of the room, my friend Jodi was there and I was glad.  She was the one who helped get Franco a new home and she was a huge comfort to me while I waited for Jimmy.  As soon as Jimmy got there, the vet came out and said she’d done the x-rays.  I was so thankful she did them so quickly because she said it may be another 2 hours.  She explained that his hind legs weren’t broken, but they may have nerve damage.  Only time would tell.  She said his pelvic bone was definitely broken and cage rest would heal that.  Then she explained that she couldn’t find his bladder, which was a major concern.  Although it didn’t seem anything else was wrong, we simply wouldn’t know for sure until a couple days had passed.  He needed to pee and so that is what we hoped for.  That would mean his bladder was ok.  If not, then they would have to do surgery to see if it was repairable.  And if it wasn’t, then we would have to do the unthinkable.  The vet didn’t even say it.  She could see that I couldn’t think that far ahead.  We went back home to get Franco’s treats and food that he likes.  On our way home, we stopped at the man's house that took Franco to the hospital.  He had found Franco laying in his yard and could tell that he'd been hit by a car.  I didn't realize it until he opened the door that it was the father of one of my former volleyball girls, Kyndi.  He was so kind and was surprised to hear Franco might make it.  He knew how badly he was injured and said that he got him to the hospital in about 15 minutes.  We were SOOOO thankful he did this.  He said Franco was pretty scared, which we assumed he was, and that he bit him when he tried to give him water.  Had John not taken him to the hospital, we probably never would've seen Franco alive again. 
     Dr. Newcomb warned me that he probably wouldn’t eat and she was right.  He just laid there, trying a few times to pull himself towards Jimmy and I.  It was heart wrenching.  He just wanted me to hold him and I couldn’t.  He was starting to look a little more alert, but his breathing was so heavy and his temperature was too low.  We were losing him. 

            We left the vet and I just felt worn out.  It was quite an emotional day and I’d barley eaten.  My mom had made dinner for us and so we stopped there and ate with my brother and the boys.  The doctor said she would call if there were any changes.  I kept checking my phone in hopes she would call to say he went to the bathroom.  She didn’t call.  She said she would go back and check on him at night, but still no call.  Jimmy and I went to bed early, but I was up off and on all night.  I kept dreaming about Franco.  One of my dreams was of him sitting up already and I woke up thinking he would be okay.  I dreamed that the vet called at 2 a.m. to tell me he went to the bathroom and again I thought he was going to make it.  I prayed several things as I lay there awake.  I prayed that if were going to lose him, that we wouldn’t have to make the decision to put him down, but that he would die peacefully in his sleep.  I prayed that God would calm my anxiousness and help me not to worry.  I prayed that Franco wouldn’t be scared or feel the pain. 

            I woke up early that morning.  The vet opened at 7:30 and I planned to go see Franco shortly after that.  Jimmy was getting ready for work when Dr. Newcomb called.  I was slightly excited, hoping for the news that he had gone potty in the night.  However, my heart sunk when she said that he had passed away in his sleep.  She had checked on him at 10:00 the night before and he was stable, but when she came in the morning, he had died.  She said that there was probably more internal damage than we knew and his little body couldn’t handle it.  Deep down, Jimmy and I knew this was most likely going to be the case, but we still couldn’t believe it.  Jimmy called in to work and we both sat there in disbelief, shocked, mad, broken.  Our devotion that morning was on blessings through trials and we both agreed that we’d been blessed enough with trials.  We prayed a simple prayer that morning that God would give us a quick answer because we couldn’t bear the pain of waiting anymore, it was too much.  Our prayer was answered and still we couldn’t believe it.  I looked on the couch where it was stained from Franco licking it and at the dog hair on the pillow.  I cried thinking about how he’ll never come running in the living room again and jump on the couch with me.  I hated the thought of not tucking him in his bed at night or taking him on anymore walks.  My heart just hurt and I could see that Jimmy’s did too.  When I said earlier that Franco was afraid of everything, Jimmy was no exclusion.  It was frustrating for both of us, especially Jimmy at first.  But Franco had made such huge progress.  In the last several weeks he had started coming every time Jimmy called him with his whistle.  He would jump up on the couch with Jimmy too and lick him like crazy.  He preferred to cuddle up with Jimmy instead of me in the morning.  And he would play with Jimmy unlike he would with anyone else.  It was so funny to watch him as he’d run at Jimmy, lick him, paw at him, run in a circle, run away, and then back at Jimmy and nestle in for a scratch. 

            He was getting better with the kids too.  I think he finally realized that being in our family meant being around a lot of kids!  The first few times he nipped at them over and over again, but he learned quickly that they were safe.  He was learning that wherever he was with us that it was safe and he didn’t have to be scared.  I had to leave him with my brother a few times and the last time I left him he ran to my sister-in-law and jumped on her lap.  I was so glad he was finally warming up and I didn’t feel as bad about leaving him.  Other than those few times I left him, he went everywhere with me that allowed dogs.  My father-in-law even consented to letting him in his home, which we were all pretty shocked about.  Everyone loved Franco.  The kids adored him and there wasn’t a stranger that didn’t smile when they saw him.  He was the best dog I have ever known.  He only barked to let us know someone was at the door and he never whined or yapped.  He was so obedient and he was just a super happy little dog.  He made Jimmy and I laugh daily.  We rescued him from the shelter about 4 months ago, and he rescued me from several sad days since then.  I wondered why he had been at the shelter so long, but now I know that he wasn’t meant to be with anyone else.  He was our dog and we loved him more than I could’ve ever imagined.  I thank God that we had him, even if for just a short time. 

            2014 has been a tough year for us.  If we believed in curses, we’d think that 14 was a curse.  It’s the year we lost Lucy and now Franco, each occurrence beginning on the 14^th of the month.  It’s definitely a year we will never forget and we are confident that God will continue to show himself faithful in our lives.  We don’t have a daughter at home and we don’t have our sweet puppy, but we have Christ and that is all we need.  I believe God gives us the things we truly need, the strength we truly need to live this life He’s blessed us with.  But my focus still needs to be on Him.  I don’t always know why but I also can’t see the big picture and I have to trust knowing that I don’t have complete control.  Yesterday was a sad day but I have peace knowing that God will never leave me or forsake me.  Even though our devotion yesterday was a tough pill to swallow, we can’t deny the fact that we are Very blessed.  One of our biggest blessings is our families.  My mom met us at the vet yesterday and took Franco home with her for my dad to bury later at our farm.  My brother and dad had already worked it out the night before.  He is buried next to my brother’s dog Axl.  I just couldn’t bear to do it.  My mom sat in the vet office and cried with us as we said goodbye to Franco, then paid the bill on her way out.  Jimmy’s parents, from Michigan, called to let us know they were coming to be with us and said they’d like to help us when we decided to get a new dog.  Other family members and friends texted, called and sent messages.  We could feel the support and prayers and were comforted knowing they all care so much.  Many cried for and with us.  Sharing the burden with so many others makes it so much more bearable.  We still hurt and that’s okay, it’s going to be like that for a while.  We miss Franco like crazy.  We even had a song that we used to sing him and Jimmy started to sing it yesterday before he remembered he was gone.  The vet gave us a clay paw impression with Franco’s name spelled wrong on it, but we can just include that in the many names we’d given him over the last 4 months.  Franco, Franko, Franklin, Frank, Frankie, Frankenstein, Fronco, Fronc, Frankendoodle, Pup-Pup, Puppy, Frankster, Frank the Tank, Farfel, Fresco, Good Boy:  Thank you for being a part of our family!  If the movie’s right and all dogs do go to heaven, then I’m sure Lucy has a new best friend. :)