For Milly, from her foster mom…

Letting Go

When Milly first came into my life in May 2005, I knew she was a very special little girl. She had the temperament of an angel. She got along with everybody. She especially never met a kitty she didn’t like! I have many fond memories of her playing with my one-eyed cat, Petey. She would groom him, and I could always tell when Milly had had a few minutes with him: The fur on his head and face would be sopping wet!

Milly was an owner give-up, that is to say, whoever was charged with the responsibility for her care decided, for whatever reasons, to let Milly go. Milly ended up at the county animal shelter, where she was rescued by an OBG volunteer. The give-up papers said Milly was about 7, a perfect age for a cocker spaniel. Not so young that she would be getting into trouble and not so old as to be considered a senior. At this age, her chances of getting adopted were pretty good. And it didn’t hurt that she was as cute as a button!

After a few days, I realized that Milly was hard of hearing. Well, that’s not so big a deal. But it was later determined by the vet that Milly was probably closer to 9 or 10 years of age. Well, that’s still no big deal. She might be a little harder to adopt out, but it wasn’t hopeless.

In January 2006, Milly was diagnosed with a nerve sheath tumor. She underwent tumor excision and was taken to a specialist to determine the next course of action. It seems that nerve sheath can be aggressive, that is, it can recur in the same spot, but does not tend to spread throughout the body. So, a wait-and-see attitude would suffice. I would check the tumor area periodically to determine if any nodules were forming. It was possible more surgery might be needed at some point in Milly’s future.

Well, like all good rescues, the OBG folks were honest about Milly’s medical record. As a result, inquiries from potential adopters dried up virtually overnight.

By now, I had pretty much assumed that Milly would be spending the rest of her life in her foster home. As Milly had adjusted well, and as I was crazy about her, it didn’t seem such a dire prospect.

Then, amazingly, in July 2006, a wonderful woman, Cheryl, expressed an interest in Milly! Despite Milly’s medical record, and her probable age, she knew that she wanted to give Milly a home of her own for however long it was fated they would be together. Cheryl was determined to give Milly all the love she deserved and to care for her until it was time to let her go. Pictured above is Milly, Cheryl and myself at an OBG Adoption Show.

I looked forward to Milly’s adoption with great joy. Some people might wonder how you can foster a dog for so long, and still give her up. I explain that it can certainly be a bittersweet experience, but when you know in your heart she is going to a wonderful home, and that the adoption is an excellent match for all concerned, you learn to let go. After all, there is always another dog somewhere waiting to be rescued.

Milly was due to go to her new home in mid-August. However, a week before her transfer, she showed symptoms of an autoimmune disease that caused her body to destroy her platelets. Platelets enable blood to clot. As a result of the disease, Milly was literally bleeding to death. She was rushed in to an emergency vet, but despite their best efforts, Milly continued to deteriorate. It was with great sadness that I let Milly go on August 20, 2006.

Milly was a captivating little dog. She was calm, even-tempered, and so appealing! She had such an expressive little face. Complete strangers were compelled to come up to her to say hello. She took it all in stride, despite an immense curiosity in everything going on around her. She was a wonderful companion, following me all around the house. She wasn’t an in-your-face kind of dog, but gave love quietly. I could always count on Milly being there for me, even when the other dogs in the house decided I was too boring to be around. Now it was my turn to be there for her.

Milly was surrounded at the end by those who loved her: Me, Cheryl, and Cheryl’s good friend, Sam. We kissed her beautiful face and stroked her soft fur. We told her how much she meant to us, what a very special little girl she had turned out to be! We held her close as the drug did it’s terrible job.

And then we let her go.

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