In an alternative universe, I would be saying kaddish (the ancient mourner’s prayer Jews recited after the loss of a loved one) for my bestest friend Stanley my beautiful Labrador retriever. And a frequent blogger on this site.
Instead, I am gratefully the recipient of copious dog kisses.
Kisses, not kaddish seem like a miracle.
And it is.
On Sunday, July 2nd Stanley was slated to die.
The time and date of his demise were marked down in a Day Minder leatherette appointment book, as though it were a hairdresser’s appointment or a visit to the dentist to get a cleaning. It was part of his permanent record. As were the tucked-away, tear stained business cards of veterinarians who provide at-home euthanasia. I was inconsolable and deeply bereft.
Friends were also in shock. No, not the fact that I still write down appointments in an actual spiraled date book but that I had agonizingly booked a visit by a compassionate veterinarian who would gently help Stanley in his end-of-life journey in the familiarity of his home.
In The Blink of An Eye
It all happened very suddenly, as life often does.
After an exhilarating and successful art opening, at the Art Center Highland Park, I left Chicago in an upbeat mood.
But once I arrived home things quickly took a hairpin turn.
Stanley got very sick. A perfect storm of health issues collided cascading quickly and he was in great distress. According to his vet, things were ominous and he was in the fight of his life. It seemed impossible that Stan the Man always the quintessential comeback kid, might just not come back from this one.
He was always, I used to joke referring to his Dad’s last name, “A Katz with 9 Lives.”
Two days later when we returned to the animal hospital, Stanley was taken in to be examined. When the vet tech came to get us ushering us into a small room and softly saying you will have more privacy here, my heart sank fearing the worst.
One look at the doctor’s crestfallen face as she entered the room and my heart bottomed out. Hearing those words no dog owner ever wants to hear, “It’s time” cut like a knife.
This had all occurred over a mere 48 hours.
The long July 4th holiday loomed and she feared he might not make it through the evening, hinting we should consider putting him down then and there. Even with an overload of information and emotions swirling inside me, I knew I could not say goodbye right now. The inevitable loomed and I certainly did not want Stanley to suffer. My husband and I agreed to make arrangements to say goodbye to Stanley at our home two days later on Sunday.
But I also knew there was only one being who would let us know for certain when it was time … Stanley.
It would be exactly a month from that day that I had planned a big 14th birthday bash for my beloved companion. Instead, I had the difficult and surreal task of making arrangements for the end of life for my very, very best pal.
His birthday was always a bittersweet celebration. Stanley was born on the very same day that my previous dog Emerson tragically died, and so as one angel left another entered my life.
Stanley has been my one constant through a series of tragic life-altering changes. As I shared the sad news with friends and on social media the outpouring of love and positive energy was phenomenal.
A Pocketful of Miracles
Stanley’s eyes told me all I needed to know
Then just as swiftly as things had snowballed downward, it became a story worthy of Frank Capra.
Stan the Man stepped up to the plate in the bottom of the ninth and sent the game into extra innings!
I never left his side for a moment and I watched as his symptoms dissipated, and not an iota of suffering. His ravenous appetite and soulful chocolate eyes bright and clear told me it was not his time.
There are so many life lessons to be learned from this miracle story not the least being the tremendous power of love and resiliency.
Miracles do happen friends.
Stanley got a hero’s welcome on his return to the vet. As well as he should. Short of a ticker tape parade, the entire staff all came out to cheer him, amazed and in wonder at this miracle of a dog.
It was exactly a week ago to the hour that I had left the vet in tears. Though things were very dark, the light never dimmed in Stanley and his will and strength prevailed against all odds.
My Jewish mother’s genes have since been on overdrive, taking helicopter parenting to new heights, but Stanely is doing great. He is thriving. I will match Stanley in his tenacity, strength, and will to live and give him every bit of care and love he deserves.
I’m taking it a day at a time, not taking anything for granted and the love he is exuding is matched only by mine.
He may not be beach ready just yet, but I am more than happy to give up the sun for my son.
At a time when there seems to be a dearth of stories with happy endings, Stan the Man inspires!