Chapter 22--Losing Tess
On October 20th, 2011, I said goodbye to Tess. Her cancer had spread, even though we had spent six months and $10,000 fighting it. While I did not lose Tess in the sense of her being missing, in an unknown location, I did experience the loss of her. The hardest part of having a pet is knowing that we will lose them all someday, one way or another. Her final days were unpleasant because I didn't know the right time to let her go. Obviously, she would not live another month, but I agonized over trying to know just when to say enough was enough. I don't feel confident I got it right. I wish I could have explained to Tess what was happening. I wish she could have told me when.
Tess had always been a perfect dog. I first met her when she was about one year old. Some acquaintances did not have enough time to spend with her, and they felt she would be happier in a home with another dog, with someone who could give her more attention. She came to meet Porter and me, and within ten minutes I knew she belonged with us. She was a little shy at first, but then she played energetically with Porter. She ran in circles around him, and when he was bossy and rude, she took no offense. They became friends quickly. From day one, Tess never needed training. She was always kind and clever. Most of all, she gave Porter someone to play with. Two dogs were half the work that one dog had been. Tess made our lives better in all respects.
Porter and Tess came with me on a road trip to Colorado in 2002 and another adventure to California’s redwood forest in 2003. We hiked in the Cascades and Olympics. While I often had to keep an eye on Porter to make sure he stayed out of trouble, I never needed to worry about Tess. Whatever we happened to be doing, she was happy to go along and be a part of our pack.
When Kelsy arrived, Tess showed remarkable patience. Kelsy would often latch onto the side of her face and tug her around, but Tess never complained. She let the puppy have the ball or the toy or the stick, and yet she was always willing to play and willing to let the puppy win. Tess helped us train Kelsy for scent detection work. Tess and Kelsy had epic sock battles, playing tug of war with a shredded sock for many minutes. When we played fetch, she let Kelsy win most of the time, even if she got to the ball first. She was always able to outsmart the other dogs, and me, but she never used her intelligence to take advantage.
Tess loved to go swimming at dog parks like Magnuson or Luther Burbank. She wouldn’t swim as much or as far as Kelsy, usually, but she liked to watch Kelsy fetch far out into the lake. Tess liked walks, and she would take me for a walk. After I hooked the leash to her collar, I would say, “Take me for a walk, Tessie,” and she would grab the leash in her mouth and pull me along our usual routes.
Tess was sweet, good, kind, and gentle, but you wouldn’t know it if you knocked on our front door unannounced. She looked and sounded like a vicious junkyard dog when the UPS driver stepped onto the front porch. If she barked at a known person by accident, she would cry an apology once she discovered her mistake. She was never any trouble, and those who knew her were always happy to have her around.
When Tess first showed signs of a problem, I was surprised to learn it was cancer. During the seven months she fought the cancer, with all those pills and treatments, she never showed signs of pain, and she never seemed unhappy until close to the end. Every night at dinner time, she would bounce her rubber ball in that same happy, playful manner, in anticipation of the main meal. Only in the last couple of weeks of her battle did she finally stop bouncing her ball. When the pain grew too great, she started to seem tired all the time, and not her usual happy self. Although ten years is too short for a sweet girl like Tess, we were lucky to have her as long as we did. She made this world a better place.
Now that her battle is over, Tess will begin a new life. I found a quiet spot to bury her where it seems unlikely that any future development would disturb her grave. I planted a hemlock tree above her. As the living soil converts her body, the tree will use her minerals and nutrients to grow large and strong. A hemlock tree can grow three hundred feet tall, and live for over a thousand years. For the rest of my life, I will be able to watch Tessie’s tree grow as she begins her new life as a part of nature. When I look at her tree, I will remember all the happiness she brought me. As long as I live, I will always endeavor to be as good and as wise as Tess.
Tess had always been a perfect dog. I first met her when she was about one year old. Some acquaintances did not have enough time to spend with her, and they felt she would be happier in a home with another dog, with someone who could give her more attention. She came to meet Porter and me, and within ten minutes I knew she belonged with us. She was a little shy at first, but then she played energetically with Porter. She ran in circles around him, and when he was bossy and rude, she took no offense. They became friends quickly. From day one, Tess never needed training. She was always kind and clever. Most of all, she gave Porter someone to play with. Two dogs were half the work that one dog had been. Tess made our lives better in all respects.
Porter and Tess came with me on a road trip to Colorado in 2002 and another adventure to California’s redwood forest in 2003. We hiked in the Cascades and Olympics. While I often had to keep an eye on Porter to make sure he stayed out of trouble, I never needed to worry about Tess. Whatever we happened to be doing, she was happy to go along and be a part of our pack.
When Kelsy arrived, Tess showed remarkable patience. Kelsy would often latch onto the side of her face and tug her around, but Tess never complained. She let the puppy have the ball or the toy or the stick, and yet she was always willing to play and willing to let the puppy win. Tess helped us train Kelsy for scent detection work. Tess and Kelsy had epic sock battles, playing tug of war with a shredded sock for many minutes. When we played fetch, she let Kelsy win most of the time, even if she got to the ball first. She was always able to outsmart the other dogs, and me, but she never used her intelligence to take advantage.
Tess loved to go swimming at dog parks like Magnuson or Luther Burbank. She wouldn’t swim as much or as far as Kelsy, usually, but she liked to watch Kelsy fetch far out into the lake. Tess liked walks, and she would take me for a walk. After I hooked the leash to her collar, I would say, “Take me for a walk, Tessie,” and she would grab the leash in her mouth and pull me along our usual routes.
Tess was sweet, good, kind, and gentle, but you wouldn’t know it if you knocked on our front door unannounced. She looked and sounded like a vicious junkyard dog when the UPS driver stepped onto the front porch. If she barked at a known person by accident, she would cry an apology once she discovered her mistake. She was never any trouble, and those who knew her were always happy to have her around.
When Tess first showed signs of a problem, I was surprised to learn it was cancer. During the seven months she fought the cancer, with all those pills and treatments, she never showed signs of pain, and she never seemed unhappy until close to the end. Every night at dinner time, she would bounce her rubber ball in that same happy, playful manner, in anticipation of the main meal. Only in the last couple of weeks of her battle did she finally stop bouncing her ball. When the pain grew too great, she started to seem tired all the time, and not her usual happy self. Although ten years is too short for a sweet girl like Tess, we were lucky to have her as long as we did. She made this world a better place.
Now that her battle is over, Tess will begin a new life. I found a quiet spot to bury her where it seems unlikely that any future development would disturb her grave. I planted a hemlock tree above her. As the living soil converts her body, the tree will use her minerals and nutrients to grow large and strong. A hemlock tree can grow three hundred feet tall, and live for over a thousand years. For the rest of my life, I will be able to watch Tessie’s tree grow as she begins her new life as a part of nature. When I look at her tree, I will remember all the happiness she brought me. As long as I live, I will always endeavor to be as good and as wise as Tess.
