Of the eight dogs Jerry and I have rescued over our 42 years together, we’ve always said that they all needed us, but we needed Nickelby. I’ve always given it to the universe to decide when and which dog to rescue. I saw Nickelby’s photo on the Wright Way Rescue website, a cairn terrier and silky terrier mix, and I was in love, instantly. My beloved Pilgrim was sick with seizures intermittently, and we didn’t know why. He was seeing two vets, one who did acupuncture that Pilgrim loved. We soon found out that he had insulinomona, a tumor on his pancreas that went undiagnosed. I know the acupuncture doctor thought we were nuts to adopt Nickelby, but he won everyone’s heart. We’d take Nickelby with us for Pilgrim’s acupuncture. He’d hear Dr. Julie’s voice and say, “Dr. Julie, where are you?” and rest on her feet. Everyone in the office hearts melted.
The second day we had him, Pilgrim would sleep under my office desk on his favorite bed, and he had a seizure. Nickelby came running for me, barely knowing us, and said, “something’s wrong with Pilgrim!” And for the last six months of Pilgrim’s life, Nickelby never left his side. Even when we had to treat Nickelby for heartworm, the second we left him alone off the sofa, he was with Pilgrim. His heart was that big, that full.
That was almost 14 years ago, this April. He has been my “man” all these wonderful years, although when he needed to be my baby, he was my baby, too. Pilgrim said to him, “You take care of Mommy.” And Nickelby said, “that’s my job.. And I LOVE my job.” And so he did. Every day, for almost 14 years.
The last year, he’s lost most of his muscle, when he was strong and stocky all of his life. We would take “strolls” in the yard and in bad weather in the house that would strengthen him some. He would eat all his healthy food, drink his “chicken juice”, his bone broth that we make from organic chicken every few weeks. Until two days ago when he wouldn’t eat or hardly drink. That was my touchstone – his eating and drinking. He never suffered, not for a second. But he faded. We knew we had precious days left.
This morning, he did what Jerry called his “Mom!” cry that he needed to get unstuck in some corner or on his bed when he peed (and he HATED that). But it was a weaker cry. Jerry held him on the “Nickelby highway” of indoor/outdoor carpet that made walking easier for him. Then I held him. Cleaned him up, and felt him leave us.
He was probably almost 18 years old. We wanted him to feel safe and treasured, not taken away in some cold room at some vet. I’ve been crying for days as we knew his time was near, but today, for the first few hours, just wanted to let him know he was loved and treasured. I brushed him gently, put his beautiful golden hair in an envelope to keep his life force close. For the last few years, I've missed his beautiful hazel eyes, a trait of cairns. Both Nickelby and Mom had hazel eyes, but cataracts clouded those beautiful eyes. We’re trying to adjust to open gates and bathroom doors that we closed to make him safe. His favorite bed and pee pads are at the foot of the bed and in front of the heat register that he loved. He’s wrapped in a blanket, next to me. I don’t’ know if I can survive his loss. He was never a “bad boy” that we can remember, except catching the occasional bird. Nickelby was as perfect a soul as anyone can be. We are blessed that he shared his life with us. This is unbearable. I’m trying to take solace in his loving last moments. I didn’t want it to be about me, but now I’m consumed with his loss. I will never know love like this ever again.