Rest in peace my Wickett
Let me tell you about my Wickett. She was a pomeranian poodle mix. She was tiny. She looked like Wickett the Ewok from Star Wars. We lived in a trailor park and couldn't have any pets over 20 pounds. I was pregnant with my youngest son and had to get rid of our 2 dogs, Chubby and Thor as they were WAY over 20 pounds. They were Pit, Rot, Shephard and Mastiff mix. They were HUGE. Anywho. I had my son on January 3, 2002 and my uncle brought to me this teeny tiny little girl dog. I am thinking, "Who in their right mind gives a woman with a brand new baby, a band new puppy?? She was given to me to celebrate the birth of my son. My husband accidentaly dropped her when she was a baby and all of her live she had back spasms. She would stiffen up and we would rub her, she would get better and run off.
She was my only "daughter" as I had two sons and two step sons, a husband, a male cat, 3 male dogs, a male turtle, I think even the fish were male. I was in a testosterone filled house, just waiting to grow myself a moustache!!. She loved everyone, but only wanted to be with me. She was everywhere I was. If I wasn't home, she stayed hid until I arrived. She was my everything. My confidant, my best friend, my protector, my savior. My husband used to play hit at my leg or the kids and she would go absolutley crazy!! She would bark and chase him and try to bite at him, never actually biting him, just trying to warn him. Then he would hit himself and she would do the same thing. We would show this trick to all our friends and family and they thought it was the cutest thing ever.
Fast forward 7 1/2 years later, we had spent the day 4-wheeling and she was at home, when I got home I couldn't find her. I went into a panic. My son found her under his bed and she just wasn't acting right. I though maybe it was because it was too hot in the house. She was doing ok though, eating, drinking, wagging her tail. Just a little down in the dumps I thought. The next day, we went to the river and I didn't want her out in all the heat, we left her home with our friend. When I came home, she was laying in the middle of my living room floor and my friend ran out on the porch and told me to get in the house. I took one look at her and started screaming and ran out of the house. I thoudht she was dead. My friend told me she wasn't dead, she just wouldn't move. I got her moving, forced water and pedalyte down her. She was walking like she was drunk, but then she started drinking. She didn't have a fever. I called her vet at 10:00 that night and told him what was going on. He was so cold and heartless and told me "i can't see her tonight". She was still ok at that point. I called every vet in town. No one would see her. One vet called me back at 1:00 a.m. By then she couldn't move, her eye went off to the side, she was drooling and she was in pain. This ver had me to bring her to his house at 1 am. He said she was having seizures and a stroke, she was stuck in a seizure. He kept her at his house and took her to the office the next day. I spent that whole day at the vet clinic holding her, begging her not to leave me. He gave her steroid shots to try and bring her out of the seizures. He told me he wouldn't know anything for 12 hours. He said her blood work was all over the place and it appeared as though her kidney's were failing. I mentioned that all she had eaten all her life was cat food, she wouldn't eat dog food. He told me that could have caused her kidney failure. Now, I am thinking this is all my fault. Then I blamed her regular vet for not listening to me about her "back spasms", if he would have checked her out better, he would have known they were seizures. I could have had her on medication to stop them from happening. I called to check on her later that night and there was not improvement. The vet was trying to call his tech to see if she would meet me at the office so I could pick Wickett up and bring her home, to spend one last night with me. I though if I brought her home, she would fight to live. He couldn't get ahold of his tech, so I went first thing the next morning to get her. I wanted to spend the day alone with her, holding her, loving her. I wasn't ready to let go. I was loving her and singing to her and rocking her like the baby she was and she started moaning in pain. I cried and cried and made the hardest decision ever. I told the vet it was time. I held her in my arms and sang to her, to the tune of Whinnie the Poo, but my words were, Wicky the Poo, Wicky the Poo, willy nilly silly little girl. I always sang that to her, almost daily. I watched the pink euthenasia flow down the i.v. into my little girl. I just kept singing. She looked at me with her good eye, twitched her ear and I believe she was telling me it was ok. I did the best thing for her. She was hurting and couldn't fight anymore. Then she was gone.
They took her and put her in a garbage bag in a taped up box. I put her in the van, opened the box, took her out of the bag and wrapped her up in her blanky. I held her in my arms the hour long drive to my mom's house. I din't want to believe she was gone. I begged her to breathe, to come back to me.
I then had her cremated. I wanted her with me forever. When I got home, I sewed her bag of ashes into a little pink teddy bear. That way I could still snuggle with her and talk to her. I held on to that bear for a month, taking it everywhere with me, almost to the point of seeming like a crazy person. I never wanted another pet. I wouldn't talk to, touch or even be around any of my other pet. I figured if I shut down, stopped caring and disengaged from the other pets, it wouldn't hurt when they died too.
My other pets were just as lost as I was. My cat used to nurse off her when I first got him. He spent lost her too. He paced around the house with the most pathetic howl/meow. My dog Rebel, tried to nurse on her when I brought him home also. He sat in the back yard for weeks howling, whining and looking for her. The newer puppies were out of sorts for a few days, but they hadn't been around her too much.
She was born on November 21, 2001 and she died on ApPril 28, 2009. She was only 6 weeks older than my youngest son. She was 7 1/2. I know this has been a long post, but this has been the first time I have really talked about it. Most people don't understand that pets are not just animals. They become your children. You grieve for the loss of them just as much. I knew everyone on here would understand.
Then I found Chewie, my precious chi. I don't thing he is full chi, he looks like a tiny boxer, his ears don't really stand up, although they are starting to, but his nose is short and square. When I first got him and I would think of Wickett or see her picture, I was afraid she would think I was trying to replace her or that I was a traitor. I have just recently realized, those were my fears, that I was trying to do those things so I wouldn't hurt. But Wickett was Wickett and Chewie is Chewie. Nothing will every replace the love I had for Wickett, but my lap and heart was empty and I needed those things filled. I love Chewie and it is a new love. Not a replacement love. I am sure I will love him as much as I loved her. I know I will, I already panic if he sneezes or coughs, or if he shivers. I think, he's going to get sick and die. But, he will be fine and my heart will be fine. I will never forget my baby girl. My only daughter. My best friend.
Thanks to all for taking the time, as long as it was and I apoligize for this being so long, to read my story.
My lap is too empty and cold, the soft resting head no longer there to warm it, no stroking of your furry body, no furry body to stroke, my quiet companion gone. My heart is broken, there are no other ways to say it, this empty space you filled, loving always, never judging. My friend has left, my hands are empty my heart is broken and hope and faith was unable to stop it. Wickett girl, fly free where the fields are green and filled with friends before. I will carry you always in my heart and memories, I will wait for the day when i hear your paw beating, running joyously to greet me when we re-unite again where we will finally remain together forever.
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It is a fearful thing to love what death can touch.
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Fynn McCaul 
Rosie O'Grady
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