Life is Tough... But So are You

I am standing on the precipice of change. I have a choice to make. And either one will break my heart. So, how then, can I decide? Do I choose left, do I choose right? I'm at a divide in the road and I must choose. But I'm afraid to choose. And that fear is paralyzing. But I ask myself, is standing frozen in the heartbreak really less painful than making the hard decision?

My husband and I need to decide whether or not to put our beloved Nala down. She is 13 1/2 years old. We have had her longer than we have been married. I remember lying in bed late one night, on the phone with Tim because he still lived in Utah while I lived in Minnesota, and we brainstormed names. So many names. At the time, we didn't know if we were getting a boy or a girl. The next day I drove 2 hours to a farm outside my hometown and was swarmed with puppies. It was a little overwhelming. The mama for these puppies had had a litter that was less than a year old, then there was the litter my Nala came from. There were 13 puppies in that litter alone. The farmers begged me to take more than one, which was impossible. My landlord wouldn't even let me have one. My new puppy was going to be contraband.

So there I was, standing in the middle of so many rambunctious puppies, trying to figure out how on earth I was going to choose just one. Then I spotted her, all alone, sleeping in the hoop of a tipped over basketball hoop. As soon as I saw her I knew. She was ours. And in an instant, she stole my heart completely.

That was how we got our Nala. This sweet and mellow little pup with the craziest breeds: her mama was a Rot, her father a Lab and Beagle mix. She was our baby.

One Christmas, years ago, she unknowingly ate rat poison. We were in Minnesota, celebrating with our family and after we got back to Utah we noticed she had a small cough. This wasn't a surprise. When winter first set in, she always got a cold. Along with a cough. Our vet told us we could treat it with cough medicine. Yes, Robitussin. She only got worse. She was listless, wouldn't move, coughed and coughed, and we could see it in her eyes - the life was gone. Late one night we took her to the animal ER and they took her back in a hurry. Then they moved Tim and me to a private room where they asked about the poison. At first, I was flummoxed. I had no idea where she would've gotten poison. Then it dawned on me and I called my mom and we realized she had found a box of the poison in her garage. We were all devastated, my mom included. They gave us her prognosis. They told us her treatment options. And they presented us with a hefty bill. Tim didn't blink twice. Do whatever you could. It was a terrible week to pony up that kind of money... we were closing on our first house and our good earnest money check was about to be cashed. But she was our baby. We couldn't not do it.

Thankfully, after a long recovery, Nala did recover. She was our miracle pup.

We've had her for over 13 years. She's been with us while we raised our kids. She's taken care of me during and after many of my health complications. She's been our loyal and lovable best friend. She's an old lady now, even responding to the nickname "Old Lady", and her health is rapidly declining. It's hard to watch. And as soon as she has several bad days in a row, I'm convinced it's time. I know she's in pain. I watch her struggle just going up and down my stairs, falling more and more frequently. She can't hear a darn thing. She has two blown-out knees that have stabilized with scar tissue but are full of arthritis. Her belly is full of fatty tumors that she's not a good candidate to have surgically removed because she has a weak heart. And now today at her quality of life checkup at the vet, the C-word was dropped. We don't know with any certainty, but it's the most likely the case.

Even as I write this and tell her story I think to myself... Nicole, she's got to be miserable. Look at everything you just listed! But then she cuddles up to me. She licks my chin. She got excited when she saw the leash to go to the vet, her tail wagging vigorously. And she actually took her meds today, which is pretty hit or miss. With all of that, I tell myself, she's got more life in her. She's tough. And while I know I may not have much longer with her either way, a few months have got to be better than now, right?

So how do we make the tough choices? There are consequences either way. In our situation, the ultimate outcome is the same - we will lose our Nala. And my head knows that she won't live forever. It's my heart that's having a harder time being convinced. But difficult choices go so much farther past putting a dog down. We face hard choices all the time. And sometimes I think what is actually harder than making the choice itself is knowing that it can't be undone. The future is unknown and doubt makes us question if we've made the right choice. I have to choose one. I can't choose both.

It would be so much easier if someone could simply tell me what to do. But the choice is in my hands. In our hands. And that power is hard to swallow. What is the right decision? Maybe there isn't one. Either way we will come to the same place. And either way there will be heartbreak.

It's impossible to forget a dog who gave you so much to remember. 

I heard once that we are always just one decision away from a different life. There is so much truth in that. Hard things come our way all the time, and all we can do is look at the situation, evaluate the risk, consider it from as many perspectives and vantage points as possible, then go with our gut, and then hold steadfast in the decision we make.

As I stand at the precipice, I still don't know what choice I will make. And fortunately I don't have to make it alone - I have my husband, and we will fortify each other in whatever decision we make. My hope is simple... I hope that everyone has someone - not necessarily someone who can make the choice for or with you but will at least help divide the heartbreak.

Right now I am thinking of the old movie All Dogs Go to Heaven. I don't necessarily believe my Nala will go to the same heaven that I believe in, but I'd like to think she'll go somewhere where she will be her best self, strong, healthy, happy, and join all the other beloved pets I've lost throughout the years. And maybe she'll look down on us from that happy place and feel joy and contentment that we were her humans and that she was loved to the moon and back.

How lucky I am to have something that makes 

saying goodbye so hard.