Dana

May 5, 2010 – September 22, 2021

It has been three years since I said goodbye to my heart dog.

The first time I laid eyes on her I had just turned 14. I burst into tears as I thought that the long drive my parents were taking us on was to look at a house to move away to. Those tears were a mix of relief and joy. I had wanted a dog forever, always begging, pleading, making up spreadsheets of costs from the humane society, taking out dozens of library books on dog care, it was an obsession to say the least. My parents were able to temporarily quiet my pleadings by agreeing to get me a dog when I graduated university (hilarious, really).

In June 2010 we brought the sweetest little golden puppy home. She was perfect. I was just finishing exams so had full afternoons to dedicate to her, followed by an entire summer. By 7 weeks, she had learned how to sit, shake a paw, come, lie down, ring a door bell and was housebroken. She went on nearly every family vacation with us. She was there through my first heartbreak, she was there as I graduated high school, got married, started university, graduated veterinary school and through me starting my first two jobs as a veterinarian.

Her favorite things were peanut butter, timbits, icecream, swimming, and rolling in the snow. If the snow was nearly all melted, count on Dana to find the last remaining snow and roll on it.

She taught me the importance of not leaving chocolate chip muffins on the table when leaving the house, and how incredibly scary it is to be a student with an emergency vet visit. She taught me to laugh when skunks are mistaken for kitties to say hello to. She was a golden getter though, not a retriever. She would go “get” the ball, but then drop it halfway across the field to eat bunny truffles.

Dana taught me that the most important part of life is the people you surround yourself with. She loved people. Once while travelling to Oregon, she walked off our hotel patio to sit beside two strangers on the bench overlooking the ocean. She taught me how to slow down, smell the flowers, how to forgive, how to be joyful and how to embrace all of the gifts life brings (like snow to roll in, ocean waves to swim in, and leisurely strolls in the morning).

She taught me how to be the best veterinarian that I can be. When the mass in her mouth needed surgery, I learned how to aggressively remove an oral plasmacytoma. When her liver values started creeping up, I learned how to flip every stone of literature to investigate the cause and the fix. I learned from her that not everything has an answer, and accepting that has value, too. Because of Dana, I learned so much more about pain control, nutrition, thyroid disease and how to keep calm when your dog breaks her leg in a freak accident.

Ultimately, Dana taught me so much about love, tenfold as I grieved the nearing of the end of our time together. As that time came closer, I knew that all I wanted for her was for her to be home, surrounded by the love of her family, as she took her last breath. The morning that I had planned to check her anemia bloodwork again, she collapsed (a sign that the anemia was getting quite severe). She still went on her morning walk but was so weak, trying to push through to please her people. We decided that the day had come, which would be so much harder for us than for her. She enjoyed a puppaccino, an ice cream, a cheese burger and chicken nuggets that evening that we said goodbye.

The grief that overcame me following that hardest goodbye was met with overwhelming peace knowing that she was no longer suffering. She was set free, and could spend her days in absolute peace – playing in the waves, rolling in the snow, eating timbits and waiting for the day she would get to see her family again. Dana taught me about loss, love and living in the now. I will miss her all of the days of my life.