Chili Bean Morais

Chili
June 30, 2009

On Saturday after returning from 6 weeks in Portugal, I stopped by my friends’ house to pick up Chili (our dog) where she had been staying while we were away. My friend who just left town mentioned that she thought Chili was sore because she had been limping since the day before. When I arrived to the house, I was surprised by how severely Chili was limping.

I took her home with hope that she was only sore from playing. Groggy and jet lagged, I spent the day on the couch trying to make sense of the local time and place. By the time evening rolled around Chili was in bad shape. Chili was shaking uncontrollably, panting, drooling, loosing hair and unable to move around without a big limp. I was worried. By 10:30pm, I was convinced something serious was wrong. I called a friend to accompany me to the Animal Emergency clinic because my only other experience in such a place resulted in my childhood best dog being put to sleep. In addition, I was so bleary eyed and exhausted, I wasn’t sure I could hold a conversation with the vet.

We were relieved when the doctor dismissed Chili’s ailment as only a pulled muscle. She gave us some painkillers and home we went. On Sunday, Chili was not improving. In fact, I thought she seemed worse. She could no longer put weight on the leg and she was still losing lots of hair and shaking. Chili wouldn’t eat, drink or go to the bathroom. I spent time on the phone with our vet and decided to take her in on Monday for x-rays.

I did my best to ready myself for the likelihood that Chili might not come home from the Veterinary appointment. I could see that she was in a great deal of pain. It was hard to see such a good friend suffering so greatly. I carried her outside to go to the bathroom and when I put her down she collapsed. Instead of returning to work as scheduled, I stayed home and held Chili and spent what I thought might be my last hours with her.

At the vet, the doctor had a difficult time discerning what her ailment might be until he took x-rays. The films revealed severe arthritis that she has likely had her whole life. We saw bone spurs and broken bone spurs. He said there really wasn’t much that could be done for such a bad case of arthritis. He prescribed some heavy-duty drugs and we decided to see how she would do with them.

I brought Chili home and watched her lethargy and her inability to move. I looked into her sad eyes and went over and over in my head how putting her to sleep was the fair and kind thing to do. Of course, it was impossible to truly be at peace with such a decision. I was struggling with this mentally and emotionally. Duarte had been out of touch through all of this and I also felt like I couldn’t make the decision without his input. Chili is his “first child” as well.

My father emailed a few hours later and reminded me that dying is a time for the soul to move on to another place. He encouraged me to hold Chili and love her and let her know she had been a good dog and then tell her it was okay if she wanted to go on. And so I did just that. The words came in gentle tones through tears and sobs. I held my beautiful old dog and remembered some of her best moments. Chili loved to chase sticks and balls, she liked sit up on the front of our raft with her legs hanging over the edge, in the river she likes to ride the currents and catch eddies, Chili is a bed hog dog.

Just as I finished my thoughts and words of love, Chili stood up (which she hadn’t done willingly in 3 days), turned her back to me and then breathed out a defiant “humph.” Well, I thought. This is something. So I got up and gave her a piece of cheese. She had been refusing food for days. Now she enthusiastically gobbled up the cheese. Then I gave her some chicken. She also gobbled this up. I pushed her dog food towards her. Amazingly, she stood up and ate it. She drank her bowl full of water after 3 days of not drinking. She went outside on her own and went to the bathroom!

I left her downstairs when I went up to bed. I was up there for a few minutes when I heard a bark. I went down to see what she needed. Chili pushed past the door that closed her into the kitchen, RAN past me and went all the way up the stairs on her own! Go figure.

Today Chili is excellent. She greeted me with a wag of her tail, she went to the bathroom on her own, ate all of her food and waited impatiently for me to throw her a stick (which I would not do).

And so – Here’ to the Dog who will not die! Our miracle dog! I love you, Chili Bean Morais!