Go Run Free, Nala Girl

It’s been almost two weeks since we’ve said goodbye to our Nala girl. Several days of puffy eyes, recalling special memories, looking at photos, and feeling empty with reminders of her everywhere. She was so loved, and things are not the same without her.

Bringing Nala Home

We adopted Nala June of 2013. Ryan and I had been looking for a while but waited patiently for the right fit. I remember when I saw her photo online, I just knew. She was the one and I prayed to God it would all work out.

I did have some hesitation about Nala having part pit bull in her, especially since we knew babies were in our near future. We had a home visit, and all my worries went out the window. Nala was the gentlest dog in the world. Her sweet, loyal demeanor would never hurt a fly. I know everyone says they have “the best dog”, but she truly was.

We adopted Nala when she was four months old, still a playful puppy. Even as a puppy, she was such a good girl. She was easy to train with a mellow, loving personability. Nala loved to cuddle, play fetch, and chew the stuffing out stuffed animals (we bought several at Goodwill ha-ha). She was our first baby-we spoiled her with toys and treats, took her everywhere with us, and let her up on the couch and bed even when we swore we wouldn’t.

Nala became a big sister pretty quickly! She took her role seriously and was very protective of Andrew as a baby. She would sit (sometimes on him ha-ha) and lay by him all the time. We always joked she was his bodyguard.

As I looked through old photos of Nala from the past ten years, I can confidently say we gave her a very full life. She was there through the very big moments and the little everyday moments. The good times and the bad. Nala was our constant. We grew a special bond over the years, one I will cherish forever. She was “my girl”, my best friend.

Her Last Year…

Nala celebrated her 10th birthday in February. Her past few birthdays have been bittersweet because we always knew we had more time with her behind us than ahead. When I published this Facebook post, I had no idea it would be the last birthday we celebrated with her.

I thought we had at least another two years and she would live to be 12, 13 or even 14. It’s a tough reminder that only God knows when our loved ones will be called home. It’s in His hands. While I do not understand why Nala had to leave us sooner than expected, I am trying to trust His plan for her and our family.

For the past decade, Nala has been in good health. She’s never had any major issues and besides slowing down a little from old age, she’s been doing really well. I took her to the vet in June for her annual checkup. They checked a few lumps, ran her senior bloodwork, and all looked good.

This summer we noticed some minor things (sleeping more, some weight loss) but didn’t think much of it due to her recent good checkup. We were also living in a camper so figured she was just out of sorts. Nala was still going on outings with us, eating regularly, playing and even running around every now and then.

August 2nd

I took the boys and Nala for a walk down by the lake at our campground. Nala was getting around fine, I let her off the leash, and she actually went in the water to cool off. She came halfway out of the water and just plopped down (looking back I think that was the moment her tumor ruptured). I tried calling her to come to me, and she wouldn’t budge. I thought maybe one of her paws got stuck in the mucky bottom and she hurt her leg or something.

I was able to get her back to the van and in the camper. She went and laid down in the boys’ bunkhouse. I told myself we’ll see how she’s doing in a few hours and took the boys to the beach to swim for a bit. I feel so guilty for leaving her on what would be our last day with her. It absolutely kills me.

When we came back from the beach, it was like Nala hadn’t moved and I knew something wasn’t right. I helped her out of the camper, and she collapsed, almost like she had lost feeling in her limbs. A short time later, she managed to get back up and went under the camper to lie down. That worried me and I called Ryan at work.

Ryan came home from work about an hour later. He tried getting her to come out from under the camper and she wouldn’t. Not even for a treat. We made the executive decision to take her to the 24-hour emergency animal hospital. Our friends had just arrived at the campground for a long weekend visit. We decided to grab some dinner nearby and Ryan would take Nala. At this point, we knew something was wrong with Nala but thought she could be treated, and everything would be okay.

While at the restaurant Ryan texted me with a few updates followed with a “it’s not looking good”. Shortly after, a phone call. I could tell immediately in Ryan’s voice something was wrong.

“Annie, you need to get here with the boys. We have to say goodbye to Nala tonight.”

I think shock took over first. I was scrambling to get the boys out of the restaurant and not really processing anything right away. The boys were confused and crying because they wanted to eat, clearly not understanding the situation.

Once we were in the van, I called Ryan back and he filled me in with all the details. Tumor. Massive internal bleeding. Stomach cancer. There’s nothing they can do…

Then the tears came. I mean they FLOWED. How can this be? She was fine yesterday. How does she have cancer and we know nothing of it??

Lucas started sobbing too. It was the hardest car ride of my life. It would come to be one of the hardest nights of my life.

We arrived at the hospital and Ryan met us at the van. We walked in together and to her room. Nala actually got up and greeted us at the door, which made things even worse. She seemed like her normal self for those few seconds.

We were supposed to have more time. She wasn’t supposed to die this year. I felt like I was living in some sort of nightmare.

The five us spent an hour petting, cuddling, talking to Nala and trying to comfort her and each other. I used tissue after tissue and just couldn’t believe this all was happening.

We decided it was best for the boys to leave the room. Ryan and I surrounded Nala for her last moments with us. When the doctor whispered softly, “she’s gone”, the past ten years came back in a flash. I was brought back to the early days when Ryan and I adopted her. Her puppy kisses. Wanting us to throw the ball over and over again. Walking around the neighborhood proudly with sticks as big as her. Looking at me with those sad green puppy eyes wanting on the bed. Letting her wiggle herself up on the couch for snuggles.

The day I found out Andrew’s diagnosis, Nala was there, my shoulder to cry on without judgment while I grieved.

Each joyful day we walked into our home with a newborn in a carrier, Nala excitedly sniffing, eager to become a big sister again and again.

The day I came home from the hospital last year after a miscarriage. Nala snuggling on the couch with me, providing the comfort I most desperately needed.

It went by in a flash. And that is the part that has been particularly tough for me. The fleeting of time. Watching those you love (pets included) get older. Ten years ago, Ryan and I were newlyweds, just bought a house, and adopted our first baby. Then in the blink of an eye, we have moved states, have three boys ages 9, 7, and 4, and have lost our first dog. How has all of that happened? It’s so cliche, but truly, where does the time go?

Missing Her

I don’t think I have ever cried so much. My eyes were swollen, my chest hurt, my stomach hurt…I felt horrible knowing she was walking around with this for who knows how long, and we didn’t know. The vet assured us we did not nothing wrong and that this is how the cancer is; one minute a dog seems fine, the next they’re not. I keep assuring myself of this but can’t help to feel guilt that we could have done more.

It’s just hard. I miss her so much. Her wagging tail and butt, with a toy in her mouth, every time I came home. I miss her curling up with me on the sofa with her head on my lap. I miss her sitting right next to me as I put my shoes on making sure I wasn’t leaving without her. I miss her nails on the floor, her protective bark of the mailman, even the hairs she shed behind.

I miss watching the boys interact with her. She made Andrew belly laugh by just sitting there. Lucas loved playing tug and fetch with her. But Owen especially. I have so many pictures of him using Nala as a pillow. They had a special bond and I really hope he remembers her in the years to come. He will say randomly, “I want to pet Nala. When is she coming back?” It’s so hard for him to understand and breaks my heart even more.

Now as I sit at the computer over a week later (the boys are not here) it still feels empty. Even though Nala would probably just be laying down, she’s not here. She’s not here to pop her head up when I call her name. She’s not here to bark when she hears the UPS man deliver a package. She’s not here for me to pet and love on. She’s gone.

I know there is not much I can do right now to feel better about losing her. We’re grieving and going through it. Hopefully time will heal our broken hearts. I know we have so many joyous memories to hold on to and I do find comfort in knowing we gave Nala a safe, loving home. And she gave that right back to us–comfort, loyalty, love. I thanked God every day for giving us Nala. I still do.

So go run free, Nala girl. I’ll will be with you. I will love you forever.