When Maggie died in 2017 it happened two weeks before I gave birth to Goo, so when I wrote about her death it was in the same blog entry as discussing the birth of Goo, and that always bothered me. So instead of talking about Bear Cub’s death in the Christmas/December 2021 entry, I’m devoting a stand alone entry for her.

We returned home from Maui on a Sunday night, late, probably 10 o’clock or so, and proceeded to tuck into fast food for dinner, because we were all jet-lagged and starving. I noticed while we were eating that Bear Cub 1. wasn’t interested in begging for food like she had been the last few months and 2. she wasn’t interested in eating any of our food, which was also odd, as she had really turned into Maggie dog over the last year, begging for food, constantly hungry and thirsty. There had been several times over the past years with my dogs that they skipped meals, or didn’t drink water. Not uncommon.

The following day was Monday, which I thankfully had off from work. This time, it was more noticeable that something was wrong with Bear Cub. She was not only refusing to eat and refusing to drink, but I couldn’t get her to take her pain meds, no matter how I tried. In peanut butter. Wrapped in bacon. I didn’t want to shove a pill down her throat (I’ve never been keen on doing that to my pets), so I put water in a turkey baster and gave it to her that way. When Josh came home from work later, he put chicken bullion in the water to encourage her to drink. Again, something we had gone through with Maggie when she had UTI’s, no cause for alarm…yet.

As the evening progressed, I could tell Bear Cub was getting worse and worse. Other than going outside once to pee with me (and I had to force her to), she hadn’t moved much from the floor. She was panting, her breath was becoming short. She looked so awful Monday night that I knew something was really wrong, and started contacting hospice providers in our area, while alternatingly sobbing every time I looked at her. It was awful.

That night, Josh placed her on one of Maggie’s old doggy beds (Bear Cub was never interested in laying on a doggy bed), and had her in the TV room. He slept on the couch, and I can’t imagine he got much sleep. She panted all through the night, he said, and often whimpered.

Tuesday morning, November 16th, I woke up earlier than I normally would. It must have been fate. I went downstairs, and I could tell Bear Cub was actively dying. I’ve been around patients this close to death; animals are very similar. I cried and pet her and cried and told her how much I loved her, and what a good girl she was. I left the room for maybe 10 minutes to check my e-mail to see if the hospice providers had left any messages, and Josh came upstairs to tell me that she had passed. He was with her.

I went downstairs, and she was gone. Her eyes were still open. I pet her–I didn’t talk to her, because she was gone, but I stroked her fur. And cried. Her belly was still warm when Josh took her body outside, which kills me thinking about it.

Two hours later I had to go into work, which was surreal–everyone wanting to know how my trip to Hawaii was, when all I could think about was my sweet Bear Cub.

It’s weird not having a dog, when you’re a dog person. Sure, I had a brief break between Luna and Maggie, but it sure didn’t last long. I’m finally getting to the point now where I don’t expect her when I walk through the door, don’t expect to see her when I walk to the kitchen in the morning. The phantom sounds of dog toenails clicking and her panting are becoming less and less.

Maggie was my number one, even though I never told Bear Cub that, but only because Bear Cub was so independent. You had to WORK for her love, much like a cat. If she didn’t want to go for a walk, nobody could make her. We had a stand-off in the snow one year for my birthday when she wouldn’t come to me that I’ll never forget, she made me so mad!

Over the years she softened, and especially this last year, she reminded me so much of Maggie. She was such a sweetheart at heart, never bit anyone, never even came close to hurting the boys, or anyone else. Children loved her. I loved her tail, her little toe tufts, and the little tassels on the backs of her legs. I loved all of her!

With the redhead just turning 2 and acting insane, I’ve realized I cannot take care of a new puppy right now, as much as I love dogs. I have to start from the puppy age and go all the way through the life span–and who knows when I’ll be ready for that. It’ll happen when the time is right, just like it did when I rescued Maggie, and then Bear Cub.

RIP my sweet Bear. I know that you are herding Maggie up there in heaven, and I’ll see you again someday.