(Photo to be uploaded)
Baby's suffering was long and painful and how I wish she never had gone through that horrible stage of fever, fatigue, and seizures .
We watched in horror as Distemper took over our beloved "baby sister".
We did everything we could, only TOO LATE.
Upon learning from the local vet that Baby had Distemper, it was devastating to know that she only had a few days to live after that.
The matter-of-fact tone of the vet assured us that she had handled such Distemper cases before and that the only way that could salvage Baby from an obviously painful death was through Euthanasia. But we would NEVER have any of IT for Baby. So we took her home and placed her in comfy bed sheets, got her medication as prescribed by the vet, in hopes against hopes that our Baby would make it out of Distemper alive and well.
But the vet was right; Baby had only less than a week to live... And then TODAY came.
12:30 Am. I was awakened by the shaking beneath my folding bed and saw Baby having seizures. I immediately awoke Mama. We both nursed Baby until she calmed. Mama told me to get back to sleep. I obeyed.
Again I awoke but this time at the sobbing of Mama. It was 7:45 AM. I thought Mama was hurt, bitten, or something. But when I looked, it was our poor Baby lying on her bed sheets on the floor, eyes no longer knowing, ears alert, legs moving through and fro as if running a Marathon, stomach in rhythmic humping indicating difficulty in breathing. I couldn't control my tears at that time as I told myself "This is it, this is where the countdown begins".
I knew at that moment that Death was now on the door waiting for his harvest, waiting for the virus to finally destroy our Baby.
Baby was writhing non-stop for almost an hour. Her canine teeth showing, eyes red and puffy and bewildered and I had the urge to just make it stop. MAKE IT STOP. I sat on my bed and gripped my pillow. I looked at my pillow. What if... WHAT IF..?
If only I could take that pain away. If only I could hold her head and say she's gonna be fine. But she was NEVER going to be fine. Then her breathing slowed down her epileptic seizures toned down. My sister finally woke up, leaned down and touched Baby's chest. No mercy. My sister shook her head, "We're losing Baby". At this Mama's sobs became uncontrollable. She scooped Baby in her arms and rocked back and forth the way she lulled us sisters to sleep when we were young.
After a moment, she gently put Baby back on her sheets. Baby's breathing became slow and heavily labored. We were all crying at that moment, not knowing what to do. At that moment I could move heaven and earth just to make Baby well. I'm sure Mama and my sisters felt the same. If only we could bargain for more days, months, years with our own life time for Baby's. But it couldn't happen. We discovered it would never.
Then as if for one final battle, Baby struggled for breath, her barks were strong yet losing its edge, it slowed and we all watched in horror as her eyes stilled and her tongue turned blue.
Our dog, "BABY", died today at exactly 8:50 AM.
***
As I was sitting in our room and glancing at the sheets where Baby once slept; my head's knee-jerk reaction was remembering Aeschylus:
"In our sleep, pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God."
The pain will be searing in the days to come, that I know.
But I thank God that through Baby, I learned, and am more convinced of God's unconditional love. Along with that unconditional love is a bargain: acknowledging how limited my life is.
I realized this the moment I was wishing I could save Baby from the pain. That if only I could take her sorrows away and make her well... This is exactly what Jesus did on the cross.
I remember Christopher Hitchens challenging John Lennox in a debate if Lennox could cite a good deed that only Christians could do and not the atheists. Lennox resounding answer was this: It was when Jesus took upon Him the sins of the world and died for us and our salvation.
I could not have said it better.
It is such a blessing knowing my limitations and God's abundance; that while I can't, Jesus can.
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