In January of 2005, Jenny and I began talking about purchasing or adopting a second pet. I immediately thought we would purchase another Labrador to accompany Bailey. After looking at a few and remembering the months and months of chewing and mischief, I decided we didn't have room in our life for another four-legged wrecking ball.
Jenny has always loved Basset Hounds, and so I began looking at those. We also knew we would be moving several times over the next couple of years, and Bassets have a habit of following a scent and never looking back. We didn't want to endure the ordeal of a pet getting lost or wandering off, and so we moved on from that.
We thought about a Dachshund. But we weren't sure about how a Dachshund would mesh with our massive Lab. We thought about a litlle ball of fluff, but that's not exactly who we felt we were either.
One weekend, after being out of town for a couple of days, we picked up Bailey from the kennel where he stayed when we were away. The owner was keeping a 6 week-old beagle puppy for a friend, and Jenny fell in love with the dog, the ears and the puppy breath. We looked in the paper and found a local breeder with a litter of beagle puppies ready to go. Within a few hours, Annabelle joined our little family.
At first, we were hesitant to put Annabelle in the same crate as Bailey while we were away. So we purchased a smaller version and put it right beside Bailey.
While we were housebreaking her, we did not let her sleep in the bed with us. When we put her in her crate at bedtime, she would cry. And we're not just talking any little whimper. She would WAIL. And howl. The only thing that would satisfy her was for me to sleep with one arm hanging off the bed with my fingers poked thru the holes in the crate. She would lay on top of my fingers, and fall asleep.
Within the next few weeks, she began to howl when we would leave her. She would howl as we left, and would be howling when we returned home. For as much as we had researched dogs to join our family, we had made a fairly quick decision where our little Beagle was concerned. After some very preliminary research, we learned that Beagles are pack dogs. They are sometimes bred and kept for years without separating the litter. When they sleep, they sleep in a mountain of interwoven tails, paws and bad breath.
Annabelle needed to be touching something. And not just at night when she was asleep on my fingers. She needed to be touching another living thing all the time.
We began to leave her in the kennel with her big brother, and she never made a peep. She would curl up inside his massive frame, or lay next to him, or even lay completely on top of his back.
When we sat on the couch, she sat next to us or against our feet.
As much as we were learning about Annabelle, we still felt that she was not a part of us yet. She would sometimes look at us through the corner of her eye as if to say "Who are you people and where is the rest of my litter?"
We decided that the next time we traveled, we were going to board Bailey and take Annabelle with us, just to spend time with her.
She rode in Jenny's lap all of the 6-hour trip home that weekend. She had the chance to be held without her 100 pound brother fighting for attention. And the first morning away, after taking her out to relieve herself, we put her in the bed with us.
On her back.
In the bed.
Tucked in.
We awoke 2 hours later to Annabelle, still there, still covered, and batting the blanket back and forth and innocently tugging at the sheets with her sharp little teeth. When we spoke to her, you could feel her whole body wiggle.
Annabelle had bonded with us. That bond remained for over eight years, through six different addresses and the addition of two rowdy little boys.
I took this photo about 7 weeks ago. I had taken Annabelle to the Vet, and I brought her inside out of the heat while I picked up a few things at Home Depot.
We had been to the doctor for a persisent, dry cough she had been unable to get over. I assumed she had picked up Kennel Cough somewhere, and the Vet also though it was symptomatic of that, or just a case of a nagging cough. He prescribed some cough syrup to give her during a coughing fit. He also noticed a heart murmur, which caused him a little concern due to her fairly young age (8 years). He told me that we would want to keep an eye on it because it was fairly uncommon in Beagles until they were a little older.
While we were in Florida, they checked her out again and diagnosed her with Congestive Heart Failure...basically her heart wasn't pumping as efficiently as it should, which was causing the worsening cough and causing her to retain fluid. They prescribed Lasix and a Beta Blocker, and we hoped and believed this would manage her symptoms.
At first, the medicine seemed to be working. She was definitely more tired than usual, but we were trying to give things time to settle down and allowing the medicine to regulate. Jenny even backed off the Lasix to 3 per day (the max was 4) to see how she tolerated things.
Over a period of about 10 days at the end of August / first of September, we could tell she was in really bad shape. Her heartbeat was so irregular and was beating so hard that you could see it from across the room. She began to develop ascites - fluid in the abdomen - which indicated that the fluid was not only in her lungs, but was backing up in her belly. This meant that her kidneys were not keeping up with her body, and fluid wasn't being properly excreted, causing more discomfort and breathing trouble.
When I came home one afternoon in the first of September, Jenny had been crying, and knew that Annabelle was in bad shape. When I picked her up, and she licked my face with a cold tongue, I knew she was at the end of her short battle. Her gums had become gray, further indicating that she wasn't oxygenating her blood adequately.
The following Saturday morning, after lots of tears and a complete awareness of what had to be done, Jenny said goodbye to Annabelle, and took the boys away from the house for a few hours.
I had a couple of hours at home with Annabelle before the "appointment," but I couldn't just sit and hold her. So I cleaned. And unpacked some remaining storage tubs. And held her. Then I cleaned some more.
I knew she was miserable. Her tail would still wag but she couldn't get off the floor. When I put her in the car, she didn't cry or howl or make any of the usual noises to indicate her usual state of excitement. She LOVED the car. She LOVED to go.
She didn't stand on the dash and look out.
When we arrived at the Vet, she sat on the floor. The real Annabelle would have been so excited to be there and see all of her friends, and be given a treat from behind the counter (they have stayed WEEKS upon WEEKS at this vet's office in the boarding facility and they love it there). Bailey and Annabelle have been classified by the staff as frequent flyers. We have called and asked for a reservation too close to a holiday and been told there was no room. Then when one of us would ask to have our name put on the waiting list, they would always say "Why didn't you tell us? We ALWAYS have room for Bailey and Annabelle."
They stayed there so much that the front of their folder had BOARD TOGETHER 26.00 circled in large print so whoever checked them in or out knew they stayed together, and knew our extended rate for boarding so much was discounted to $26 per night.
This time, after we checked in to her home away from home, she just sat.
And I lost it. Completely lost it.
I looked around, having noticed how unusually quiet the room was.
On this Saturday morning, when our Vet's office would normally be a madhouse, there were no other patients. On either side of the reception area.
It was completely calm.
From the moment they said, "Mr. Bunch, you can bring her on back" to the time I got in my car to leave must not have been more than 7 or 8 minutes.
We went into the procedure room, I placed her on a table with a towel and blanket, and the vet gave her a simple injection.
Our vet is not - how shall I say - known for his bedside manner or his lenghthy conversations with pet owners. He's seasoned. He's a technician. And he's all business.
As he finished the injection, he remarked that, with the state of her heart, it might take a moment longer than normal since her circulation had decreased.
I stood next to her and held her head in my hands while she slowly lay down, and watched her straining heart that had been so frantically trying to keep up, simply slow and then stop.
And I sobbed like a baby.
I honestly thought that I wouldn't cry during the procedure. I thought that the science of it would be so precise and the procedure so refined that it would be like any of hundreds of medical procedures I have witnessed during my years in healthcare.
It was precise.
It was refined.
Her heart stopped and the entire ordeal was over in less than a minute.
But it wasn't just the stopping of the heart of a 30lb dog with a propensity for drinking out of the toilet and howling in her sleep.
It was the end of a part of our family. For more than eight years, Annabelle slept at our feet at night. She burrowed into the couch cushions with us in the evening. She greeted guests in our home with a wagging tail and a ducked head of pure submission.
She allowed our two boys to drag her by her ears, tail and feet until we thought she would surely develop vertigo.
She wandered our yard in the dark summer nights until we had to get a flashlight to locate her.
She sniffed the ground so furiously on walks that she would run into parked cars and the occasional trash can.
She wagged her tail so frequently that, in the summer of 2010, she actually sprained it from over-use.
If there was ever an admirable trait for a dog to possess, overwagging is certainly one of the best.
Our hearts have been heavy the past few days, but we are adjusting to life without our little girl. Bailey misses his friend, but he's almost begun to behave better since she died.
We know we will have other dogs, and experience other losses through the years ahead, but this was hard.
Saying goodbye to a pet that you believed would be with you for several more years is difficult.
Telling your five year-old that their pet died is a painful process.
Watching your spouse grieve for having been through the ordeal or for not being there in the final moments is hard.
Annabelle was a sweet, sweet girl. Perhaps one of the sweetest dogs God ever put on this earth. Our emotions will heal, but there will always be a little corner of our hearts reserved for that special little Beagle we loved for more than 8 years.
