Goodbye, my Birdie-girl

On Saturday, we had to put our family dog, Birdie, down. My mom and I waited in the vet's office as my step-dad waited in the car and my sister waited in Guatemala. We held her as the medicine made her fall asleep and watched as she took her last breath after 16 years of taking care of us, her family.

I am devastated.

I can't help it. I know that she's "just a dog," after all. She's an animal, not a human, and she doesn't have a soul. But ... well, frankly, typing "she doesn't have soul" just kind of broke my heart a little. If ever a dog had a soul, it would be Birdie.
We got Birdie when I was 10 years old. My dad and mom dropped my sister and me off at an aunt's house, saying that if they found a dog they liked and was within their price range, we'd have one by that evening. Hours later, they came back empty-handed. We were crestfallen ... until we saw a tiny head peaking out of my dad's coat pocket. She was the cutest little puppy you have ever seen. I still remember taking turns with Tabby, holding her in our coats in the car on the way home. She was a miniature pinscher, the runt of the litter (this caused my dad to get a good price, I'm told), making her smaller than most of her breed.
We named her Birdie because my dad was very into golf, and a "birdie" is one under par. Since she was so tiny, it made sense to us. It confused other people, though, who thought it was weird to give an animal the name of another animal. Birdie didn't seem to mind, though, so I guess we did okay.

Birdie always seemed to know when she was needed. I found that I couldn't start crying in the house without her finding me. If she caught me, she would jump onto my lap and look at me with her big, brown puppy-dog eyes as if to say, "It's all right." And then she'd lick the tears right off my face. My mom always said this was because she liked the salt water, but I knew better. Everyone knows animals can sense emotions, and Birdie not only sensed them, but wanted to help. And so she did. I sometimes wonder what it was like for other people to go through adolesence without a creature nearby, ready to comfort and love you at a moment's notice.

We grew up together, Birdie, Tabby and I. We helped raise her, and she helped raise us. Our lives are so intermiingled with her that we couldn't cut her out without cutting out a part of ourselves. This seems ridiculous, when you realize she was just a dog. A family pet. But pets have a way of sneaking into our hearts. And the truth is, Birdie burrowed her way into my sister's and my hearts about 1.5 seconds after she poked her little head out of my dad's coat pocket. From then until today, she's been walking through life with us.

She loved to be carried around. She loved to burrow under her blankets. She loved to sleep inside your sweatshirt while you were still wearing it. And she loved people food. In fact, she demanded it. She was a terrible begger: loud and obnoxious. We didn't really have a peaceful meal for about 10 years.

She once ate an entire Hershey's bar and another time a whole bag of Hershey's minis, yet she lived to be 16 years old.

She loved walks so much that we had to start spelling out the word when we were around her.

And in her eyes, she was the most ferocious creature that ever lived. I watched her face dogs literally 10 times her size without fear. Just the opposite, in fact: she treated them all as threats which needed to be extinguished. Fortunately for them, she wasn't actually physically capable of doing so.

She walked with us through the minefield of divorce. She was our sister-in-arms. She was my baby. And ever since I was 10 years old, she has always been ecstatic to see me (or my sister) walk through the door, no matter how long it has been since we have been home.

So even though it is true that to everyone else in the world, she's just a dog, I have to mourn her like she was my comforter, confidant and friend for 16 years. I have to mourn her like she was one of the few on the inside of my family before my parents got divorced and after. I have to mourn her like there were times in my life when it felt like she was the only one who cared about me at all. I have to mourn her like she was a creature I loved and who also loved me.

"A really companionable and indispensable dog is an accident of nature. You can't get it by breeding for it, and you can't buy it with money. It just happens along." -- E.B. White