About half of her energy was gone by evening, her eyes getting glassier with less expression. I was concerned when Penny brought Emma to the Vet in the early afternoon that I might not actually see her again. Fortunately I was able to spend one more night with her. She passed at 1:43 am.
Even though she was incapacitated for most of the evening, she tried one last time to get up and make it outside to go to the bathroom. She collapsed at the door. For the balance of the evening we stayed next to her, touching, stroking and talking to her, letting her know how much we loved her and how special and lucky we were. If you know Emma, you know she fiercely loved her people, but she also liked her privacy. While we pet and spoke to Emma in her last hours, there would be no way she would not let us down and leave us while being pet. Her breathing was very labored with the effort to hang on. If she were to let go, she needed to be by herself.
Shortly after we left her alone at the foot of our bed, I saw her head drop, and she was gone. We covered her with my son’s baby blanket and propped her head up with my daughter’s, I rule princess pillow. A trophy that Emma rightfully earned as my daughter was now in college. Even though Emma was gone, we said we would just let her sleep the night before dealing in the morning. We both then dealt with the loss to the best of our ability. Penny went upstairs and spent 5 hours looking at photos of all the family adventures we shared with Emma, while I went to bed.
This morning I took Emma to the vet for cremation. I held it together exceptionally well. Getting the dog inside with the help of the vet tech. But once I lifted her limp head to remove her collar (always blue since a pup), I had to leave, as I was quickly loosing it. There are no words to express the special bond that people share with their pets. While I am sure that other people have great dogs, Emma communicated with ease, to the point where there was no distinction between human and dog. Even towards the end in the vet hospital as the doctor explained the options and asked Penny “What do you want to do?”. Penny turned around and asked Emma “What should we do Emma?” Even though Emma had little energy, had been puking bile and having regular seizures and was looking the other way, when asked the question, Emma crowed her neck around and with little energy looked deep into Penny and said with her eyes, “I would like to go home now”.
If you know Emma, you would know that she did not like the vet. This time however, she had little energy to fight the vet and on this visit did not tremble. Normally Emma would shiver, shake, rattle and roll when visiting the vet, so much so that we thought her heart would explode. When visiting the vet we would often wait in the vet’s parking lot and the vet would come out to the car. They probably remembered the time when they had to chase Emma up and down the hall at the Vet office, with her nervously pooping, maybe an attempt to discourage the Vets from catching her. Once she even started shaking under Penny’s office desk when she overheard Penny setting a vet appointment, after which “vet” was spelled out when spoken.
Emma wasn’t like your typical golden retriever type breed that just indiscriminately loved everybody. After all loving everybody with equal fervor would just cheapen your love. No she had to feel you out, make sure you were OK. But if you passed the test, she would never forget you. And you knew you weren’t forgotten. Two of her favorite people were Bob Citelli and Phyllis Mays. She reacted to them like a wife seeing her soldier husband coming home from war, every time. They were some of Emma’s people, and she let them know that it was their obligation to offer at least 3-5 minutes of uninterrupted dedicated love to her, so it was still clear to Emma that she was their girl. Emma would be the arbiter of when that time was up. If you stopped before Emma’s affection requirements were met, she would let you know. When all was good, she would then happily go off to one of her many lounging locations, of which the concrete fireplace seating area was one. And as I now look at that vacant spot, it is not simply a vacant location, but a sign that something is missing.
The excited look of a puppy bounding up and down with enthusiasm every time we got home was ever present, pretty much right up until the end. Many people asked if she was a puppy up until about age 8 or 9 at which point she started to gray. The most frequent word to describe her was “Sweet”, and that is why the name Emma fit so well. Emma had trained our neighbors to the east especially well. Ed & Joyce Hunt had mistakenly given Emma a treat once, and from that day on, Emma was able to spot some real softies. From her perch on the second floor balcony she could see into the Hunt’s backyard. With statuesque rigidly (she was a pointer), she would patiently wait for hours for any sign of life from the Hunt residence. If the curtains moved, she would go on quiet alert, if there was a physical body present in the back yard, there would be an audible whimper designed to politely gain Ed’s attention. If Ed didn’t have time for a visit he had to intentionally avoid any eye contact. But god forbid that Ed Hunt actually make eye contact and waved to Emma and invite her over, because once invited, Emma would alert the entire neighborhood that she now had to go to visit with Ed & Joyce, and it was our duty to open the door asap. From the upper deck she would shimmy down the stairs as fast as possible, run around the rear of our home, on to Josie Street heading north, ignoring any one of the 14 cats that might be hanging out across the street, then veer right on Bacarro Street, down the hunts driveway, into their back yard, and sit in their kitchen awaiting an onslaught of treats. For the next 15 minutes, from our home, we would hear Ed & Joyce giggle as Emma would perform any trick necessary to pleasure Ed sufficiently so that he would release a treat.
If the weather was nice, Emma would be invited over to swim. I don’t remember seeing Ed or Joyce in the pool, but the fact that Emma would happily retrieve a soft Frisbee in the water for hours seemed to please Ed & Joyce. We were never invited to go swimming, only our dog. But every now and then we would piggyback on Emma’s invitation, hopping that it would be OK if we were tending to Emma, and performing additional tricks, like diving into the pool with Emma and racing to the other side. “Ready”, “set”, “go” was the start of the race, but every now and then Emma would jump the gun and bound in on “set”.
After several years of this love affair between Emma and our elderly neighbors we received a letter from Oregon addressed to Emma’s parents. It was an invitation for Emma to appear at Ed & Joyce’s 50th surprise wedding anniversary from their daughter Mame, who then lived in Seattle. The letter read that Mame sure hoped that Emma could make Ed & Joyce’s surprise 50th, because Mame was “Pretty sure that my Dad loved Emma, almost as much as my Mom”. Emma made the event, complete with birthday balloons attached to collar, at Jimmy’s Fish in Long Beach. Surprisingly every one of Ed’s friends knew Emma from the stories Ed told. “Oh you must be Emma’s parents”, we were told. We were OK with that.
Coincidently, the day before Emma passed, while Penny was at the vet getting blood work and advice on Emma, she ran into a lady that had a Vizsla puppy. Evidently this lady had been at our house warming /new years eve party as a guest of one of our friends over 5 years ago and remembered Emma. Coupled with the fact that a mutual friend had acquired a Vizsla after meeting Emma, was enough of an endorsement. Quite the coincidence on the day before Emma’s passing we see more evidence of Emma’s spirit. In fact I know of at least 5 Vizslas purchased after the owners meet Emma.
Not all Vizslas are as calm and reserved as our dear girl. In fact most are not. We always warned prospective owners that we had the mellow one of the litter. Emma was the opposite of an alpha dog. She didn’t even bark for the first year of her life, only finally speaking when she had something important to say. Yet she was a bundle of energy when required, regularly running four miles with me around the college. If you do get a Viszla, plan on being active. In her younger years, Emma, with her harness attached would pull the entire family to fantastic cafe leading a family train of rollerblading adults and skateboarding kids. Another favorite past time, was chasing feral kitties at the college. She would sniff out the cats and once found she would point with nervous anticipation, waiting for me to do something. She would stay on point until I got bored or the cat ran. No cats were harmed with these antics, Emma was smart enough not to mess with a cat. She just wanted to let me know she had done her job and found it.
As I look through years of family photo albums, I see all of the people and places we have seen and met. Not surprisingly Emma is in most of these photos. Whether it was camping with kids, hot tubing with friends at Mammoth Mountain (yes Emma liked to hot tub with her people), boating on the river or simply posing for photos with friends or family (pointers are natural posers), Emma just assumed that she would be involved in all activities. We have had some great moments, but most importantly all the fun we had was only made that much more special with our loving buddy by our side. Simple walks or bike rides were turned into adventures. Goodbye Emma, you have been a bright spot in our family for over 13 years, leaving us with many great memories. You have touched many people’s lives and inspired other families to create their own memories. I feel blessed to have had these years. Your spirit will live on with our family and all whom you have touched.