All Dogs go to Heaven. Especially my Mel.

This past weekend has been a very difficult one for my family, and especially emotionally trying for me. My dog Mel had surgery Thursday to help him breathe better by removing tissues in his nostrils and taking out the flap of skin in his soft palete that partially blocked his airways. I was hoping this would give him a healthier and longer life span. He was 10 years old and I wanted him to stick around for at least another 8 years until I was 30. But God decided he needed his puppy back. I have never had a more traumatizing experience than holding my dog in my arms while he died. And while it is something I do not wish to ever repeat, I am so grateful that I got to hold him to the end. For two days since his surgery I cuddled and babied that dog while trying to help him recover. But the day after the surgery he passed from a pulmonary cardiac arrest where his heart stopped beating properly which caused fluid to fill his lungs causing both the heart and lungs to fail.

I never thought that I would be so attached to a dog that I would be emotionally taxed for days afterwards. And for other pets that we've had to put to sleep I would feel sad for a couple days but I quickly got over it. But this dog was my baby, and I certainly spoiled him rotten I loved him so much. I only had him for just under two years, but he was a perfect fit for my family. We have never been so attached to a dog like we were to Mel. But Mel knew he was my dog, as much as he loved my dad (dad and I were his obvious favorites in the family) Mom often commented that she could tell Mel loved me and knew he was my dog which always made me feel more important being his dog owner.

Now I miss him the most when I come home from work and he's not there to jump up and run to the door to greet me and beg for his toy with that ridiculously adorable face of his. He just looked so dang happy whenever dad and I came home because he knew we would play with him. And I miss him when it's time for me to go to bed, because he knew he was supposed to go to bed with me. Sometimes he would sit in front of the bathroom door waiting for me to get ready for bed. He didn't like waiting much so when he did I hurried so he wouldn't leave me to go find him and call him, but he came running straight away when I called. He loved to crawl under my blankets and snuggle up to my feet, and would frequently lick his paws and inadvertently lick my feet at the same time. It's hard to sleep when he'd tickle my feet like that.

But the love of his life was his toy which looked like a small rubber barbell. He would play fetch with that thing for hours if you let him. If he ever got tired he'd just set the toy on the floor and lay right next to it until he caught his breath. Whenever we didn't take it away from him he took it everywhere he went, outside through the doggie door to lay on the porch with it, or to lay next to the water bowl as he got a drink. The only part I didn't like about throwing the toy was how slobbery he made that thing! We loved watching him beg for the toy too. He'd jump in circles and jump up against your knee and bark at you. I frequently barked back and we'd egg each other on like that barking back and forth, he knew it was a game that would end up with me giving him his toy. He was just so adorable, and the thing was you knew he wasn't trying to be adorable which made it that much cuter since it was innocent. I thought I'd eventually get over how adorable he'd look, but 2 years later I still cooed over how adorable he was.

Dad says that by following a natural course of events he wants to die before me so he can get to heaven and train Mel to be his dog! Of course my dad's teasing, but he also says that after my long life of good deeds and service when I die he and Mel will be at the gates seeing who can wag their tails the hardest. (Neither of them even have tails!) Mom of course will be looking on disapprovingly and telling dad to stop acting like a kid. Although I told dad that he can't train Mel to be his dog because the night he died in my prayers I asked the Lord for dibs on Mel (I really did). Even though we had him for 2 years, whoever had him before had given him up for a new baby (so the paperwork says) and so I think we have rights to him. Mom says the bonds of love should count for something and that it will still mean something in the eternities. My uncle even says if there is any justice in the Universe he expects to see his own dogs that have gone on before him. I am inclined to agree on both these accounts. There is nothing better that can comfort me about losing my dog than thinking that I can see him again and have him curl up beside my lap just to snuggle or ask me to throw his toy.

Mel was born August 14, 2000 and died May 21, 2010 at 9 years old (or 63 in dog years).