I'm feeling the fractures develop now, almost four years after my wife and I took in Lindy (left), a 10-year-old Pomeranian rescued from a puppy mill and offered up for adoption by a group that finds homes for senior dogs, ages 6 and up.
We took Lindy because she was cute, but also out of pity. Her black fur was made ragged by a thyroid condition, and her seven remaining teeth jut from her jaws at oblique angles. Two lower canines curl out over her upper lip, giving her a comical look of perpetual ferocity.
She was little more than a baby factory and treated in ways that are heartbreaking to describe. Adopting her we thought would afford her the comfort and love she probably never had, and sorely deserved.
Given her problems - including brittle bones caused by having too many puppies - we expected to have Lindy maybe two years. As of today, it's past three and a half.
But she may not make it to four. Last week, a chronic cough caused by a heart murmur and related swelling of the pericardium grew much worse, making it more difficult for her to breathe and sometimes even move. The coughs are loud, raspy and deep, and they ripple through her body. Once occasional, now the coughs come in a series lasting a few minutes to almost an hour.
My wife and I lose sleep from the coughing; you can hear them through the house, and they're almost as tough to listen to as they are for a 9-pound dog to have.
The several veterinarians who have examined Lindy are certain this latest convulsing is the inevitable and irreversible next symptom of her condition. (The swelling pericardium is pressing against her windpipe.) Drugs that were prescribed to minimize the swelling have lost their effectiveness. And so, in a short time, this little girl who's always happy, even despite the awful coughs, will lose the shine in her eyes.
Lindy's old and frail, and susceptible to numerous maladies. Yet my wife and I like to think there's a miracle out there looking for someone deserving ... someone small and furry. So we keep hoping Lindy's next cough will be her last, her next pill will be unnecessary, and three and a half years will stretch to four, five or six.
And even if that happens, we'll still think the end has come too soon.
UPDATE: Lindy passed away just after 2 p.m. on Wednesday, Feb. 10. My wife and I were with her when she died peacefully after a long struggle with heart failure. Lindy leaves a huge hole in our home and hearts, but we take comfort in the joy she gave us, and we tried to give in return, in the short time she was a part of our family.
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