I always remember my younger sister wanting a dog while growing up.
My parents never allowed it and their excuse was that we were living in a
hotel, since my father was a General Manager for over 20 years.
However, the real reason that I knew of was that both of them had their
own dogs when younger and had really suffered from the loss.
King my father’s German Shepherd and
Cookie my mother’s Poodle, as I knew them from the stories and photos.
The following piece was written exactly four years ago right after the passing of my Cocker Spaniel Caramella. Only when it was published did I begin healing. I would not be exaggerating if I said that I still think of her every single day, especially now that I reside in Venice Beach where everyone has a dog. Getting a new one is a huge decision, though I think I may be ready. The only thing that is making me wait is that I need to settle first before engaging in such a sincere commitment.
I
have been an animal lover for as long as I can remember, getting along
with all of them and watching nature documentaries. The family had
Chico, an African Grey parrot, for ten years before I took him for
another seven years when I started living by myself till he unexpectedly
passed one day. But until my mid 20s I had never owned a dog. Then in
early 2005, an ex-turned-friend got a six-months old female
English Cocker Spaniel that she named Caramella.
As the pup was
growing the bonding came naturally with her. I started
taking her out to the sporting club every now and then where she would
socialise with other dogs, run around the golf courses, and keep me
company — getting lots of attention in the process, to her and to
myself. Those trips slowly developed into weekends since my friend could
see how much the dog loved me and enjoyed her time when I was around.
She also trusted me and knew that I would take good care of her
Caramella.
Then
it happened. My friend had to travel for a few months and left her
with me. I was ecstatic to have such a loving companion, since I was,
and had been, living alone for quite a while. We bonded even more during this time, as we went away on short trips to the deserts of Sinai and
the beaches of the Northern Coast of Egypt. I introduced her to my friends
and family who all loved her. Being dog people, both of my parents
passionately fell in love too and enjoyed pampering her whenever they
would meet. I could obviously tell how they were reminiscing about their
own dogs.
Caramella had slowly become one of the rare pure joys
in my life. Finding her waiting for me by the door when I come back home
after long days of doing the unfulfilling jobs I held during those days
was priceless. The excitement in the greeting itself every single day
is a different story. O’ the sense of companionship I would feel on many cold
nights when her warm, furry body leaned on my right leg as we shared the
bed. She also became the main reason I forced myself to leave the house
for a walk or to the nearby garden every day when the
unhealthy hibernating mode would kick in.
 |
| At home in Cairo, 2007 |
By the time
my friend was back I was already hooked, and I could say the same about
Caramella. For a while, she was spending the weekdays with her ‘mommy’ while the weekend with her ‘daddy’ – almost like a child in custody.
Driving to pick her up from there felt like going on a date. As soon as
she sees my car, she rushes towards it pulling whoever is holding the leash behind her
and I would open the door for her to jump on the seat then on my lap for
a quick face-licking greeting session with those cute Cocker whines and
whimpers. A real love story one could say.
Other times, she would be
dropped at my house with her box of cooked food for the weekend, and it
was always exciting to reunite.
I recall some people asking if
it was confusing for the dog to have two masters. But I debunked the
idea by doing some research and finding that during WWI, the dogs of
war were trained to have two masters so they can take messages from one
to the other. So clearly that wasn’t an issue.
During that same
time, I remember that my friend realised that Caramella had become my
weak point. So whenever we would occasionally fight, she would not let
me take her for a while as a sort of punishment. But I was always
finding a way because living completely alone is definitely not as fun
as sharing the house with another soul, I must confess, especially after
getting used to it. And of course a dog isn’t a parrot, not even a cat;
I believe it’s a much more personal and mutual relationship.
But
the thing with Caramella is that our relationship was even deeper.
Because if I was going anywhere other than work, whenever leaving the house I would take her with me. Most people I know who own dogs only
take them for short walks, if ever, then they have their own separate
lives away from their pets. Some even confine the dogs to house gardens
and fences.
On the other hand, I was taking her everywhere like it
was my right to do so; family reunions, friends who never had dogs in
their homes, even to other friends who aren’t really dog people…and to
some shady areas, too, which I used to visit with my car. But because she
was a lovely, well-behaved, pretty-looking creature, everyone
automatically fell in love with her. She was even the cause a few people
changed their opinions about dogs.
I also remember when Chico the
parrot passed away and she kept crying by his cage for three days. They
were very good friends who would play together around the house
whenever he was out, though he was the dominating one because of his
older age.
My attachment to that lovely creature kept growing
throughout my darker days. The unconditional love I used to feel through
the caring looks she would give me when things were tough was
indescribable. She was actually what kept me going during my personal
struggles, and a worthwhile reason for me to want to get out from the
toxic lifestyle I was leading.
By that time, my friend had gotten
another male Cocker, Simpson, along with her cat. So I used my convincing skills
with some “Oh I’m so alone at home and you have your daughter and pets”
to let me keep Caramella for good, and it worked. We would go visit her
house then go back home…like a couple.
 |
| Nom Nom Nom |
Two years later, I decided to leave the comfort zone I had always lived in behind and head to Canada for a fresh start. Of course by then, she had become a family member and a soul mate. Taking her with me was the only logical decision there was.
The then-six years old Cocker made it safe and sound to Toronto after a 17-hour flight including a standby in Amsterdam. The lucky bitch was even taken to a dog hotel for the six-hour layover. I remember joking with a hostess about wishing that I was a dog instead of spending this long time at the airport. Once arrived, we stood in line with my luggage and her kennel prepared with all the vet documents.
To
my heart-warming surprise, after knowing that I’m carrying the dog with
me all the way from Egypt, the kind lady at the desk let me in without
paying the fees – telling me how sweet of me to bring her along. I was
all smiles and took that as a good omen to a fresh start. I felt that
Canada was welcoming us with open arms.
Canada was definitely a
different experience. Fresh air, lots of greenery, parks and
campgrounds, many other breeds of dogs and a thriving wildlife. It truly was a rejuvenating new beginning for myself and consequently for
Caramella as well.
 |
| Fresh off the plane from Egypt on the first day in Toronto |
During the first week, I remember our first
trip to Pet Smart when she had a poopy attack. She was extremely well behaved
and had rarely ever did it indoors, but there were so many different
dogs and scents in that big warehouse, that I’m sure the sheer excitement
made it impossible to hold it.
I also remember how she loved
playing in the snow for the first time, and how chasing squirrels in the
park while making those cute whines became her most exciting adventure.
Other than my ex-partner, her parents’ 150-pound
Saint Bernard Shay and her own two
Cavalier King Charles Spaniel puppies Tula and Butch,
Caramella was the only companion in my new city of residence. We bonded
even more for the next three years, and being the eldest, as well as
because of her character, her and I were the Alphas of the pack. We
repeatedly went camping and, unlike Egypt, spent lots of time outdoors
taking photographs in the stunning wilderness.
 |
| The Family by Starbucks in Toronto |
As
usual, being the beautiful and gentle soul that she is, she became
quite famous in my Toronto building and the whole neighbourhood for being the
sweet dog that roams the streets without a leash. At the super market,
the pet store, the local pub, everybody knew her name; they all loved
petting her as much as she loved it. This of course isn’t the average
sight you see in Canada, where dogs are required by law to be kept on a
leash. Multiple times I was complimented by curious strangers about how
well she was trained. They would ask about “The Secret”, and all I could
say is that we’ve been together for a long time and I trusted her and
she trusted me.
In truth, Caramella was a genuinely intelligent
dog. If she’s walking behind, her attentive eyes would always be on me;
and if she’s in front, she would wait at the intersections until I join
and tell her to cross the street. Sometimes, she would even look to the
left and right like humans when the side street next my building is
empty, and we would cross together without me giving her any voice
command. We had a smooth, mutual understanding and we communicated a lot
though our body language.
Having her unleashed in the city was
occasionally frowned upon, as regarded crazy or dangerous by some
folks, in Egypt and in Canada. I was told “
If I did this with my dog he would get run over straight away” on so many occasions that every time I would truly feel tempted to say “W
ell, she’s not your dog.”
One
thing I really loved about her is that she brought so many smiles and
sweet moments to the people she met. This naturally did me a lot of good
because I would pick up on this contagious positive energy, for the
happiness — and smiles — reached me too.
 |
| Fresh out of the shower on her new bed in TO |
Soon
after moving, I had started running with my older neighbour, Brent, and
Caramella was always accompanying us through the many beautiful trails
around Toronto. After few months of weekly training, we were able to
cover around 17 Kms (10.5 mi) in two hours once on a Sunday morning.
That was quite the achievement for the both of us for sure.
Mid
those runs, she would spontaneously and fearlessly jump in the small
lakes and ponds by the trail to freshen up while we wait for her to
rejoin us. Sometimes the water was replaced by mud, and if she was too
hot and had been running for 90 minutes she had no problem jumping in
and coming out as
dark chocolate Caramella. And I would let
her, even if it meant that I have to give a new shower after the one
from four days ago. Simply because after a few times, I reckoned that if
she looks me straight in the eyes as I’m running towards her saying
‘NO’ and still jumps in, then she must be EXTREMELY hot and physically
needs it to cool off.
Plus, dogs have to be dogs, and owners have
to always remember that their pets are still animals that need to
connect with Nature as much as possible. I was really loving those
unleashed weekly outdoor jogs and everything was perfect.
 |
| Cooling off mid-jogs |
Time had
passed until one of those Sundays about three months ago when I was
getting ready for the morning run. Usually Caramella would get excited
from the sight of my running gear and would get up to stand by the door
with anticipation. That day, there was no excitement at all, even with
my high-pitched “we go runny with Brent” which never failed before.
After a few trials, she got up and went to sit under the table where she
usually rests. I took that as a sign of her telling me I don’t want to
run, so I left her home.
The next Sunday I tried again, and the
same response… turning around and sitting under that table. Coming from
Caramella that was weird. She had always been an obedient dog and had
always loved going out. She used to even follow me to the bathroom door
and wait till I come out, so this was obviously an unusual behaviour.
Around
those same days, she had already developed a small mammary lump from a
while back so we went to visit the vet. We were considering removing it
or not when we were chatting and I told him that we ran for 17 Kms not
so long ago, only for him to look at me surprised. “
You know she’s eight now, this is too much. My dog can only take 20 minutes or so,” he said.
OK
then, note to self: she’s getting older and I should keep that in mind.
I took her for two shorter runs afterwards and then stopped altogether
when I saw how much she would get tired compared to relatively recent
times.
 |
My Facebook profile photo for something like four whole years
— Mazinaw Lake in Ontario, Canada |
In
the meantime, I had already started writing about dreams and the
subconscious mind, and was recording my dreams. I realised that
Caramella made it to perhaps three out of the five weekly remembered dreams. But it was always about losing her along with the fear and
anxiety I would feel and remember when waking up.
I knew
well that she’s very close to my heart and has become a soul mate, but I
had no real explanation for those repetitive dreams. I was even
wondering why don’t I dream of my parents whom I haven’t seen in three
years or, say, my ex partner. Why dreaming of my dog so much? And
why is it always about losing her? At the time, there were no dots to
connect.
From talking to many dog owners and through the Internet,
I knew that Cocker Spaniels may live till 14 and 15. So by the time she
had started to lose her energy, I thought it was going to go downhill
pretty slowly from there. I even had my own boyhood fantasies about her
meeting my unborn children one of these days.
However, she started
eating less and less everyday. I even changed her half dry-half wet
food to cooked ground beef and chicken like she used to eat for her
first six years. Still, she would eat for five minutes then go lie down
away from the food, something she has never done before. She also
started to sit much more often, even for those brief moments we’re
waiting for the elevator, as well as at the park. Believing it’s all an
ageing thing, I called the vet and asked a few other people if dogs
normally eat less with age. They said it might happen with less energy
but none of us suspected anything.
Then came the occasional
vomiting and poop trouble, and she had lost about 2 Kgs. After
consulting the vet, we stopped the antibiotic she was taking for some
skin allergy because she wasn’t getting any better, and I was worried
that it might be the cause of the complications. But you obviously know by
then there was something wrong internally.
Maybe ten days later,
we went again to the vet for some X-Ray only to find some tissues
covering parts of the heart and lungs. As I understood from him, you
cannot really tell what it is, but what you can tell is that something
isn’t right by looking at the density displayed by the white/black
effect on the X-Ray sheet. He said it doesn’t look too good. Hmm.
Another
week had passed during which she deteriorated even more. Not much food, not
enough energy, too quite and even depressed. Plus, she had started
breathing from her stomach instead of her chest, and that’s another bad
sign the vet had noticed during the last visit. Rapidly after that, the
breathing became shorter and faster.
The question I didn’t think
would come so soon started to loom on the horizon. Between my parents,
close friends, partner and the vet, we all agreed that I will never let
her suffer. Though I was still in denial that the end could be so soon.
She was nine after all, and I was still thinking of all the much older
dogs I met throughout my life. Part of me was still fantasising about her meeting
the unborn children.
Coming to last week, she refused to eat for
two days in a row. Also refused her favourite slice cheese, for the
first time ever, which was another hit on the head. She was into all
kinds of cheeses but she loved those slices so much — La Vache Qui Rit or
Kraft — that she could hear me undo their plastic cover in the kitchen
from far away and would come closer jiggling and wiggling, and giving me
those “looks” that always made me melt.
…
Sometimes late at
night when she’s asleep, I would get myself a slice and make sure I open
it slowly so she doesn’t wake up and realise I’m not giving her any. I
succeeded most of the times, but because she occupied such a soft spot
in my heart I would feel guilty, eat three quarter of the piece, and go
wake her up with the remainder in front of her nose before we both go to
sleep. Sigh.
So back to that second day she wasn’t
eating…she had also refused some ground beef fed from my hand as well as all
sorts of other doggy treats. That moment I remembered a chat I have had a
while back with an older man at the local pub. We were talking about
dogs’ mortality and how his dog had passed; apparently during his
final days, the dog refused to take his medicine. “They will let you
know,” he said. I believe Caramella was letting me know as well.
Other
than not eating, she would often drink insane amounts of water, not
moving much, and shaking on occasions. It was really hard seeing her
like that and it was badly affecting me.
 |
| What Love! |
If
the vets didn’t know exactly, I really wanted to find out what it was
all about. So later that night I Googled and within three minutes I
found
Dilated Cardiomyopathy, which is heart disease that
affects Cocker Spaniels — among other breeds — where the muscle does not
pump hard enough causing fluids to go back up into the lungs. By
checking the symptoms, she had all nine of them. Symptom number 10 was
sudden death!
The reality started creeping up on me, so I took the
camera and carried her to the nearby park for some final shots... not
before imbibing an insane amount of wine in an attempt to numb my
feelings. She was
so weak by then and not moving much. In between sadness and disbelief, I
was capable of capturing a few shots until a group of three girls
and a guy passed by, looked at us and said something. I automatically
replied “
It’s her final day.” It’s like I was looking for any sort of comfort, even from strangers.
They
came closer and I said it again. They comforted me with their kindness
and sat by my side for a few. The girl closer to me could see my red
watery eyes before saying:
“
Look I don’t know but I will hug you,” and she did.
It
felt like a sparkle of light coming from out of nowhere. I said thank
you and they walked away. Ten seconds later, they just turned around
to ask me if I wanted them to take a few photos of Caramella and I. Of
course I gladly agreed; gave them the camera, and smilingly shared that there are 16 GB free so “
take as many shots as you want.”
 |
| The Final Encore |
I
then laid on the grass with her between my arms, just hugging her and
gently playing around while the stranger girl was shooting and her
friends watching and cheering for this final encore. The above photo
is from that night.
I thanked them again, and I was actually pretty
grateful they just popped up to leave me with such sweet memory. Though
she was still able to walk but I preferred to again carry her home.
There was barely any sleep that night. At some point during the
early hours of the morning we were awaken to Caramella puking all the water and fluids
on the bedroom’s floor, as well as a little bit of blood in a separate
area. I tried to comfort her, cleaned the floor and tried to get back to
sleep but it was impossible. By now I really knew I had to do
something, and soon.
It was this last Thursday when I called up
the vet telling him about the latest news. He said he will be there till
5:45 if I wanted to pass by to give her THE shot; also that he won’t be
back for a few days but his colleagues would be notified and ready if I
ever made the call. I still couldn’t get myself to do it, but decided
that I will be taking her the next day.
Fortunately, during those
tough days two of my old friends happened to be visiting Toronto. They personally knew Caramella and having them
around definitely eased the situation.
That
Friday morning came and I kept looking at her, feeling a mix of
emotions. Wanting to alleviate her pain but still can’t really believe
that she will be out of my life in a few hours. This mirthful soul… my
partner, my companion, my child…after all that, I’ll be here without her
soon. It was one of those hard realisation that knocks you on the head.
I finally called the animal hospital by 12:30 and took an appointment at 3 pm. I remember wanting to say the word
euthanasia
but apparently my vocal chords had a mind of their own and didn’t want
to obey the signals my brain was sending. After three trials, my voice
was still hoarse, though I assume that by looking at the file, the nurse
understood what I wanted to say.
Those couple of hours
were spent reliving all our moments together, getting myself mentally ready for
the farewell. Then I called a cab and started to caress her, massaging
her ears as she has always adored. I was in a dazed state when carrying
her to the car, yet I was determined to end the pain. We got there on
time and they were waiting for us.
The metal table this time had a
dark red wool cover on it and the vet came asking me if I wanted to
leave or attend. I said I’ll be staying. He explained that he’ll take
her inside to shave the hair on the arm for the needle and will bring
her back here to proceed. He also asked if I wanted her ashes after the
cremation, to which I replied with a confident NO.
Between some
prayers, mantras, and trying to dry my sobbing eyes, I spent five
minutes in the room by myself before they came back. I tried to brief
him on what had happened lately since he’s not the same vet we had been
seeing, but again, my voice wouldn’t come out right.
“
It’s the right thing to do,”
I forced myself to say, looking him straight in the eyes. He was
nodding in agreement. I believe I was trying to get that final approval
about taking that darn decision.
She
looked so peaceful on that bed. Maybe for the first time ever as she
would always want to move when the vet was examining her and I had to
keep holding her. This time she was gently sleeping on her side, with
her eyes a little foggy, but looking very ready and done with her
journey. I could feel she wanted that relief. And in some subtle way, I
was actually happy she was about to get it.
I then bent down and
gave her a final kiss, told her I love her, that she’s a good girl, and
until we meet again. Then signalled to the vet to carry on. He said it
usually takes from five to ten minutes. I kept my hands on her and in
less than one minute she had already departed this world. She must have
been so close.
The vet left, telling me to stay as long as I
wanted. Some more mantras, plus a final hug, another final
kiss and a last look, then closed the door and left. The pain of
‘losing’ her was still there but her relief has relieved me. As I held
her red collar and leash in my hands on the ride back in the cab, I
realised that for the first time in a few weeks I could take a full
breath without feeling that worry-ball inside the core of my chest.
I
went home, gathered 12 of her best photos from throughout the years,
wrote a few words and posted them on my Facebook wall in celebration of
her life. I had already halted my work on the essay to write our story
down in her honour and in loving remembrance. I needed to write these
words to express my sentiments as well as my gratefulness for the years
we spent together and for her sharing my journey.
The responses
and sweet words I then received through comments, private messages,
emails, and phone calls were truly heart-warming. I guess I never thought
that so many people knew, and knew of Caramella. Through those lines, I
would like to thank each and every one who reached out with their
condolences and kindness. You certainly did make it easier on me.
Six
days have now passed and I still keep looking for her around the room
before remembering that she’s gone. I’m sure it will take some time
before getting used to not having her caring eyes follow me around. This
decision might be one of the most profound ones I have ever had to take
in my life. Although it took me by surprise, but I know down deep inside
that it was necessary and that it really was the right thing to do.
Change
is the only constant in life, we need to accept it and move on in
grateful remembrance. Among many other things, the whole experience of
having Caramella for those several years had taught me what
unconditional love is and what having a
man’s best friend is really like.
Now more than ever, I remain a believer in Alfred Lord Tennyson words, “‘
Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”
May you Rest In Peace, most beautiful soul. You will always have your own special place in my heart.
When I eventually went back to my writings and the dreams notes, it finally hit me like lightning. All those precognitive dreams of losing her before I even knew anything was a message from the dream world. It was my subconscious mind preparing me for what is yet to come. We know that ancient civilisations considered dreams to be nocturnal messages from the gods sent as omens for good fortune or disaster. And with this experience, as well as others, I now believe even more in the immense power of our dreams.
At the end, I would like to share with you the below poem which I received in the mail today, kindly sent by the animal hospital with a card and a note from our vet. How sweet.
I am the wind blowing through your hair
And the warmth you feel in the air.
When that smile creeps on your face,
Remember that I am in a good place.
And when you’re feeling sad and down,
Recall memories of me running around.
You don’t need to look low and high,
Just search way down deep inside.
And know that we’ll never be apart,
For I have left my pawprints on your heart.
EDIT: Five years following her departure I am still dogless, though I ended up with two cats.
From Insects to Crows: Dogless and Searching for Companionship is another piece about how things have developed over time. There is also
Why Cats Are Not Dogs as well as
Izzy The Egyptian American Doggo.
 |
"Five dogs on the loose"
|
 |
Watching over the kids on the beach
|
 |
Notice
that cheeky look she’s me giving while snapping the shot.
And it’s because
I was telling her something about leaving her large-ass
towel and
insisting on laying her head on the bed as
she always loved to do. I
think she considered herself to be as human as all of us. |
*Article originally published on Conscious Life News in September 2013
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