“Losing, and Loving Again”
By Mara Burns
I can close my eyes and remember the night I held Duncan for the last time. He was sleeping with me on the couch, when he woke suddenly at 4 am. I thought he was going to get a drink, but then I heard a thump and I sprang up to turn the living room light on. There was Duncan, in the middle of the room, lying on his side and having a seizure. I ran to him, cradled him in my arms and called to my husband. In a fog, I found the phone and called the emergency animal hospital to let them know we were coming. I barely remember the ride to the hospital. I just held Duncan and tried to be calm, assuring him it would be okay. At the time, I really thought he would make it through anything. After all, he was already blind, had diabetes insipidus, and a heart arrhythmia…so I was sure we could get through this too.
As soon as we walked through the door, a nurse scooped him up and brought Duncan into the back for treatment. After a few minutes, the vet came in, and her first words to us were that his prognosis was poor. Her words were cold and shocking. I didn’t think I heard her correctly and I made her repeat the words. She explained that the type of seizures he was having were indicative of a brain tumor. I still didn’t believe her. In the morning, we transferred Duncan to our regular vet clinic. They were as shocked as we were. At noon, he had another seizure and was not doing well. That evening, we transferred Duncan again to the emergency hospital for the overnight hours.
When we arrived, they ran more blood work and the vet explained that his levels of sodium were higher than she had ever seen in her years of practice. The only way to decrease sodium levels was to give him fluids, but she could not reduce the sodium too quickly, or it would result in swelling of his brain. She warned that his heart could stop at any time, so we drove down to visit him around 10pm. When I saw Duncan, I knew he was losing the fight. I cried and hugged him and told him over and over that I loved him. The vet suggested that we go home and rest, and she would call if he went any further downhill. I remember closing my eyes at 11 pm. At 11:15, the phone rang and I dreaded answering it. It was the emergency nurse, and she told us that Duncan’s heart had stopped, and the vet was in the process of attempting CPR. I waited, holding my breath, on hold while they tried. When I heard the vet’s voice on the line, I knew he was gone. My husband and I got back in the car to see Duncan for one last time.
Our vet clinic was notified in the morning that Duncan had passed during the night, and throughout the following day I received calls from each of the vets that had ever seen Duncan, offering their condolences and telling me how shocked they were. Duncan was quite the VIP at our vet…everyone knew him as the “cute blind beagle”. He touched everyone he met. I took the day off from work, and sat on the couch and cried. It had happened so quickly; I felt like I was standing in the middle of a hurricane of emotions…among them shock, anger, and grief. Duncan was my baby. He and I had such a special bond that it is impossible to describe in words. He was my special blind boy, and I loved him and was fiercely protective of him. We had adopted him not even a year ago, and already he was gone. I lay there thinking I could hear the pitter patter of his tiny feet, coming around the couch and looking up for me to pick him up and hold him. But every time I looked up, he wasn’t there. Our other 2 beagles and cats sat quietly by me while I cried myself dry.
The days that followed were difficult. Even though our house was full of pets, it felt empty. It was painfully obvious that our blind boy was missing. My husband and I were accustomed to his constant presence. Duncan was a “velcro-dog”, constantly following us everywhere. We were so used to doing the little things that one does when they have a blind dog in the house--picking up our shoes, pushing in our chairs, and not re-arranging any furniture. The hardest part was that I would talk out-loud, because it would help Duncan know which room I was in, as well as just being comforting for him. I had gotten used to verbalizing everything, and it broke my heart when I realized that he wasn’t there to hear me anymore. Those moments made it very apparent how much we had lived our lives around our little blind guy, and how much we needed him.
I started thinking about adopting another beagle sooner than I expected. As I thought about Duncan and how much he had taught us about life with a blind dog, I became convinced that he would want us to adopt again. I felt that would be the best way to carry on his memory, to honor him, and to help us to heal. Duncan is irreplaceable, but my husband and I agreed that we always wanted a blind dog in our lives.
I started a daily search on petfinder.com for “Special Needs” beagles. I looked for weeks, but I just didn’t find a dog that gave me butterflies in my stomach when I saw him. I wanted to feel like I felt when I found Duncan online last year. He was so beautiful and I was immediately emotional. Day after day I looked, and I became depressed. Maybe what I was looking for just didn’t exist.
Then on Memorial Day, after returning home from a camping trip, I checked the internet for blind beagles. In my search, I came across a beagle-rescue group called Cascade Beagle Rescue (CBR). Lo and behold, on their homepage, was a picture of a beagle puppy, and underneath it, the caption read, “Andre - blind beagle puppy”. Immediately, my stomach tingled and tears rolled down my cheeks. I had found him. He was beautiful; with lots of freckles and velvety black, soft ears. As I read further, I realized that this rescue was based in Portland, Oregon. I was suddenly anxious…would I be able to convince this rescue group, who were across the country and would never be able to meet me, that we were the best parents for their blind puppy?
My fingers flew on the keyboard as I feverishly wrote an email to the rescue group. I introduced myself, told them the story of losing our Duncan, and explained that I was very interested in their blind puppy. I sent the email, and ran outside to show my husband. I showed him Andre’s picture and said “This is the one!” And my husband smiled and asked, “Okay, so, where is he?”
I ran back in the house and sat down on the couch next to Duncan’s framed picture. Quietly, I talked out loud to him and asked him to help me. I wiped my eyes and came back into the bedroom to find a response from the rescue group, sitting in my inbox. I opened it and was still reading it when the phone rang. It was Michelle, CBR’s adoption coordinator, and she was as excited as I was! She couldn’t believe that we had previous experience with a blind beagle, and she agreed that we sounded like the perfect “forever family” for Andre. She explained that Andre had been taken to a shelter by an irresponsible breeder, who, once they discovered he was blind had no use for him. We chatted for a while and she gave me an adoption application to submit. That night I called everyone I knew. My husband said he hadn’t seen me smile that much since before Duncan passed away.
After we were approved to adopt Andre, we had to figure out the “logistics” of getting this little guy across the country. It was the beginning of June and temperatures were heating up, so in order to safely fly him in cargo, we’d have to act quickly. Then one night, CBR called and told me that one of their volunteers was flying from Portland to Chicago on business, and she had offered to take Andre with her in the cabin. I was relieved that he would then only have to fly in cargo from Chicago to Charlotte. Then the next day, I got the biggest surprise. An anonymous donor had given CBR enough money to pay for a plane ticket for me to fly to Chicago and pick Andre up, so that he would be able to fly home with me. I was so touched and gratefully accepted. On June 6th, I left Charlotte at 6am on a flight to Chicago. I was filled with emotions; sadness over the loss of Duncan, but also hopeful and excited to meet my new blind beagle.
I met CBR’s treasurer, Gail, and Andre—who we renamed Charlie—at baggage claim. As I walked towards them I could see a little beagle head pop out of a carrier and I knew it was Andre. I sat down on the airport floor and held him, and my heart felt whole again. At that moment I felt Duncan’s presence with me. I truly believe that Duncan picked Charlie for us and helped all of the pieces fall into place. And I can’t thank CBR enough for loving Charlie and trusting me enough to send him across the country to us.
Charlie has filled my sadness with smiles. On days when I am missing Duncan, it seems like he tries to make me laugh even more. He is the happiest puppy, and as with Duncan, no one that meets him believes that he is blind. He loves our other 2 beagle girls, Daisy and Dixie. He plays with them non-stop and they are very patient with him. Dixie and Charlie run circles in our backyard all day long. And our beagle-mix, Daisy, has become especially affectionate with Charlie. Daisy was abused very badly before we adopted her, and she was always slow to trust other dogs. But soon after we brought Charlie home, I caught them together on the couch. Charlie was lovingly washing her ears, and she nuzzled him in return. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was a very touching moment, and there have been many more of them since then.
Charlie fits right in to our little “family” like he’s been here forever. He is so adaptable and agreeable. He loves to play, loves rides in the car, and even learned how to swim this summer. He is learning basic obedience and we are enrolling in a puppy-class this fall. He is so affectionate and loves to cuddle, especially at bedtime.
I believe that Duncan was a gift to us, on “loan” for a short time. He taught us that a blind dog is not limited in any way, and they deserve a chance at a fantastic life just as much as any sighted dog does. I’m so grateful that he shared his short time on Earth with us, because now we know that we never want to be without the love of a blind dog in our lives. And he led us to Charlie, who is the sunshine in our days.
I wish that people looking to adopt would give a special-needs dog a chance, because I know they would feel the same way my husband and I do. They will touch your heart in a very special way and you will never be the same.
