Post by aeiou on Mar 17, 2017 13:01:04 GMT -5
How do I write a farewell about such a wonderful soul? I could not imagine my life without her, but yet, here we are.
She was born Windy Bear and called Wendy in her first home. Through tragic circumstances, she joined our home in August 2008. She was a foster for all of ten minutes, maybe less. She immediately bonded with my hubby and angel Uber. Hubby donned her with the name Mojito because she was sweet but without warning she'd knock you on your behind. Most of the time we called her Mo, Mojo, Mimosa or Mosa. But she was always our little Windy.
She had been through so much four years ago when she was diagnosed with lymphangiectasia. I thought for sure she'd last weeks or maybe months. Being resilient and strong, she pulled through and became herself again. I was grateful. She thrived once more.
Mo spent most nights sleeping between hubby and I, more often than not with her head on my pillow. She asked for little but gave so much. She loved going for her walks, and playing with her toys. Her favourites were a stuffed puppy and a stuffed squirrel. She learned their names too and could be asked to retrieve either.
She had integrated into our pack so seamlessly, it was almost as if she was borne to it. When we lost Miss Echo, she gracefully took up the position of matriarch in the pack. She loved having her boys.
About three months ago, she started having issues breathing that we initially attributed to her advanced age and laryngeal paralysis. We took precautions to keep her calm and did whatever we could to prevent her breathing from getting worse. Only, it did. Nothing we tried was helping to improve her breathing. On Friday, March 3, I brought her in for yet another checkup on her breathing since it was becoming incredibly worrisome. Xrays were taken that showed natural advanced aging effects in her lungs, but also that the bottom of her lungs were not inflating. We added theophylline hoping that opening her airways and bronchioles would do the trick to improving her breathing. There seemed to be some slight improvement so I was encouraged.
Wednesday, March 8 came and she seemed in good shape in the morning. Hubby came home from work and said all was well as he went about his usual routine. I arrived home and Mo immediately went into distress. Whether it was the excitement of my return home, or some other unknown, she could not breathe. Hubby and I whisked her to the vet clinic faster than I've ever done before. Our vet could hear no lung sounds. They were both collapsed and we were already losing her. We released her from her suffering.
In retrospect, I realized that her circumstance was so apt for you see, Mo and her litter were born in a hurricane, and March 8 was one of the most wicked wind storms we've seen in years. She came into this world Windy Bear in a hurricane, and passed unable to catch her breath, in a wind storm. That's my girl.
Beamish is handling the single life well. Though his ego is going to be hard to keep in check. It seems so unusual that our house, once full of greyhounds, is now down to a single one. Whether we'll adopt again is hard to say. At this time, I need time. I'm sure if the right hound presented itself, we would certainly consider them. We're not ones to turn away a hound in need, afterall.
She was born Windy Bear and called Wendy in her first home. Through tragic circumstances, she joined our home in August 2008. She was a foster for all of ten minutes, maybe less. She immediately bonded with my hubby and angel Uber. Hubby donned her with the name Mojito because she was sweet but without warning she'd knock you on your behind. Most of the time we called her Mo, Mojo, Mimosa or Mosa. But she was always our little Windy.
She had been through so much four years ago when she was diagnosed with lymphangiectasia. I thought for sure she'd last weeks or maybe months. Being resilient and strong, she pulled through and became herself again. I was grateful. She thrived once more.
Mo spent most nights sleeping between hubby and I, more often than not with her head on my pillow. She asked for little but gave so much. She loved going for her walks, and playing with her toys. Her favourites were a stuffed puppy and a stuffed squirrel. She learned their names too and could be asked to retrieve either.
She had integrated into our pack so seamlessly, it was almost as if she was borne to it. When we lost Miss Echo, she gracefully took up the position of matriarch in the pack. She loved having her boys.
About three months ago, she started having issues breathing that we initially attributed to her advanced age and laryngeal paralysis. We took precautions to keep her calm and did whatever we could to prevent her breathing from getting worse. Only, it did. Nothing we tried was helping to improve her breathing. On Friday, March 3, I brought her in for yet another checkup on her breathing since it was becoming incredibly worrisome. Xrays were taken that showed natural advanced aging effects in her lungs, but also that the bottom of her lungs were not inflating. We added theophylline hoping that opening her airways and bronchioles would do the trick to improving her breathing. There seemed to be some slight improvement so I was encouraged.
Wednesday, March 8 came and she seemed in good shape in the morning. Hubby came home from work and said all was well as he went about his usual routine. I arrived home and Mo immediately went into distress. Whether it was the excitement of my return home, or some other unknown, she could not breathe. Hubby and I whisked her to the vet clinic faster than I've ever done before. Our vet could hear no lung sounds. They were both collapsed and we were already losing her. We released her from her suffering.
In retrospect, I realized that her circumstance was so apt for you see, Mo and her litter were born in a hurricane, and March 8 was one of the most wicked wind storms we've seen in years. She came into this world Windy Bear in a hurricane, and passed unable to catch her breath, in a wind storm. That's my girl.
Beamish is handling the single life well. Though his ego is going to be hard to keep in check. It seems so unusual that our house, once full of greyhounds, is now down to a single one. Whether we'll adopt again is hard to say. At this time, I need time. I'm sure if the right hound presented itself, we would certainly consider them. We're not ones to turn away a hound in need, afterall.