GOOD-BYE, MY FRIEND
BY: DR. EVAN M. BLAIR

I remember back in veterinary school during my first year. I was presiding over a class meeting. I was class president. One of our sponsors came in with a puppy that had just gone through major surgery due to severe trauma and fractures suffered at the hands of a 12 year old boy and his baseball bat. The puppy was timid and ran from me when I approached her. But there was something about her that made me know she just had to be mine. I was the first one to plead my case for adopting her. I named her Jesse. I still remember my excitement as I traveled down the aisles of the pet store loading a shopping cart-- this was going to be the world's most spoiled dog.

For the first 2 weeks I would come home from school and chant "poose" in baby-talk, I guess it was an affectionate term I had picked up from my step-mother in listening to her talk with her animals. It was no surprise that the dog would never come to me when I called her "Jesse", so through much thought I arrived at the unique name of Poozer. This dog was my heart and soul, she was always there with unconditional love and an understanding that I truly needed to get through the difficult and stressful times of veterinary school.

Poozer would chase her tail in wild circles when I would say "dance", she would howl when I would say "sing", and she would make these noises that sounded like Chewbacca from Star Wars when I would say, you guessed it, "Chewbacca". I could not imagine my life without her. I could not believe that a pet, a dog no less, would become an object of one of the deepest feelings of love I have ever known. I guess animal lovers could understand this.

It was during my first year of internship as a young doctor when I would face tragedy and begin to question my own worth as a veterinarian. I noticed Poozer was acting funny one Thursday night. The next morning I brought her to work and ran some diagnostic tests. I pulled strings to get my results back in less than an hour. Most of what happened after this seems hazy and unreal to me. Poozer was in severe kidney failure. I brought her home and turned my house into the ultimate hospital for her. I sat up with her all night, changing fluid bags, flushing intravenous catheters, and medicating her. My friends took shifts staying with me every second of the way. I guess they knew what was coming and knew I was not ready to face it. By Saturday night I knew every attempt to stabilize her was futile. As I write this I am fighting back my tears just recalling the situation.

Poozer vomited all over my bed. I realized what was happening and decided to take all of the tubes and instruments out of her. Let her go with dignity. She was motionless and would just lay there for long periods with exhausting attempts to get up. Morning came. At 7:00 O'clock A.M. I awoke to Poozer standing over me and wagging her tail. I felt some hope. I took her outside to let her relieve herself. She went to hide behind a bush, something I never saw her do. She laid down. I quickly rushed to her side and carried her to my porch where she collapsed and died in my arms. That last gasp of air she let out left a slight moisture residue on the porch floor. Something I would swear I could still see in the following weeks when I knew it was not there. How could this have happened so quickly? How could this have happened to me? Why could I, a veterinarian, not save her? I felt like changing careers. I was devastated and confused. Daily functioning was lost to me. I guess this hit me so hard.

I cremated Poo, as I liked to call her, and her urn still sits on my bedroom dresser with a blown up picture of her behind it. My best friend saved a clipping of Poozer's fur from her long fuzzy tail. This also sits in the frame. I was never good at saying good-bye, and still to this day can be brought to tears thinking of my baby. Time has helped me deal with the grief, and I guess I answered my self questioning as I worked through it. It is never easy losing someone you love, but I would never trade the pain I feel for the love we shared when she was here with me. Although I'll never see her again, the love we had I will treasure my whole life. I still have her "brother" with me, and our bond was only strengthened when Poozer died. I hope she is in a better place. I remember her often, and light a candle on her urn on every anniversary of her death. Too much? Maybe. But it helps.