phoenix

i was 25 working at a small veterinary clinic, my first real job of about 5 years. a tiny puppy came into the treatment area. it was fawn and had tiny brown ears and it looked like it had been drugged. the receptionist had brought it back with a sort of shocked and worried look on her face. "she, uh, was trying to euthanize it." she put the puppy on the treatment table. it was breathing, heart beat, just very asleep. we noted that it had an umbilical hernia and a slightly crooked tail. the doctor looked up and said, "well, does anyone want it?" and i said, "what is it even?" the receptionist told us it was a great dane, the breeder we all knew and weren't very fond of had brought her in. "yeah, i'll take it for now," i said and my heart quickened.

now i had a stake in this tiny life. i had actually just lost a chihuahua puppy i had been giving a shot. the little guy just didn't make it but at least he was warm and snuggled before he let go. i was watching the tiny chest rise and fall, the little baby ear had fallen back and up and was standing straight up, seemingly defying gravity. this thing must be so young. i wondered how young and how sad it was that the poor thing had to be taken away from its mother. i mean, an umbilical hernia's pretty easy to fix and a slightly crooked tail is really nothing to kill it for but then again, i'm not a breeder. i'm not in it for the money as this woman had shown time and time again.



candi, pants, poo at 6 months



the doctor came back, a few moments later, she said the breeder had some expired drug at home and had given the pup a horse sized dose of it but it "hadn't worked" and "could we please finish it." we suspect she had the illegal drug to illegally perform surgery on her dog's ears. home ear clipping, brilliant. the doctor asked one more time if i really did want it, i confirmed and we got the reversal drug in the pup. she came back slowly but she came back.

i found out she was 5 weeks old, she was from "champion lines" and that her "mother had won" something or other. i assumed it was mostly bullshit and said if she wanted to bring her "papers" back to the clinic i would take them but agreed not to breed her. *eyeroll*

those early days were cute and snugly and silly. she was smaller than pants at the time and she adored her, she actually adored pants her entire life, she would follow her around and slobber on her. they loved playing together. she was not willing to be a crate puppy. she would make unholy noises every time she was alone. it's not that i blame her, she was much too young to be separated from her mother and her siblings. a big dog like that needs much, much more time learning how to be a great dane but she was on her own and there was no helping it. we'd teach her to be a giant jack russell terrier instead.



shortly before the peeing began.



about a week later, the breeder called and wanted to "talk to the girl who got the dog." i warily picked up the phone, she said she was glad someone had got her and repeated that she was a "champion puppy with a champion head" but it was "too bad about the tail." i pretended i was talking to my asshole grandmother because then i wouldn't swear at this woman. she asked if we had decided on a name and when i said, "i think we're going with phoenix." she said, "she really should be named barbie," because of her pedigree and "wouldn't i think about naming her barbie?" i said, "no. probably not." she pretended not to hear me and said she would "bring the papers later." needless to say, she didn't and i didn't care. i stomped around the rest of the day saying things like, "SHE THINKS SHE CAN NAME HER?"



then she shot up like a gangly weed. one minute she was five pounds and the next she was sixty. somewhere in there, before she'd be too big for the table, we removed her sexy organs (too early but hey, i was young and just followed the flow) and fixed her umbilical hernia. not soon after that, she was 110. she topped out at about 120ish. she never lost her puppy gangliness. probably because we spayed her too early. she also quickly developed urinary incontinence, most likely of the same origin. live and learn, eh? peeing in the bed will get you kicked off the bed. that and a love affair with my mother. she loved to lean on my mother and my mother loved to pet her tortilla sized ears while she did. i called her "poo" when she was little, then my mom switched to "fee." guess who loved her more? when i left home for chuck, phoenix was firmly implanted in my mom's heart and bedroom and taking up most of the couch.



my favorite part of phoenix was he utter adoration of pants. to see a 120 pound dog galumphing after a 9 pound pants, ears a-flapping, slobber a-flying, was an entertaining sight. pants would occasionally turn around and bark-bark-bark-growl at her but that never stopped phoenix from loving her and covering her with slobber. my other favorite thing phoenix did was play with a tennis ball. she didn't need any interaction, just the ball. she would take it in her gigantic mouth and prance away with it. prance, prance, prance. then she would drop it. then she would put one foot on it, look around, then put the other foot on it. then she would almost put it back in her mouth, think better of it and paw it with her foot. at that point she would be positive that someone was about to get her precious ball and she would freeze while surveying the

surroundings for intruders. her jowls, her ears and her slobbers going in completely different directions with each turn of her head. my third favorite thing about phoenix was watching her run. she could cover ground but it looked like she was running in slow motion and she was never graceful. my fourth favorite thing about phoenix was watching her curl up. she had about three times the normal amount of leg and therefore looked something like a baby giraffe or a praying mantis trying to blend in on the couch.



when i finally got to the house after leaving work early and fighting 5o'clock traffic, my father came out to see who had entered the door. he didn't say anything, so i went back to their bedroom. my mom was lying on the floor next to phoenix who was lying on her dog bed, she had three in there. she was dead with no obvious signs as to why and i immediately thought stroke. i comforted my mother, told her i was so sorry, told her that this was unfair and too soon and generally shitty. we hugged and cried and tried to make sense of it all. her tortilla sized ear had fallen backwards and was defying gravity by standing straight up. i think that was my fifth favorite thing about phoenix.

shortly thereafter, my father said we needed to get up and figure out where we wanted to bury her. i tried to let my mom continue to rest and grieve but he was having none of it. my father and i moved phoenix's body to the back of his polaris on her bed and my mother and i covered her with a favorite blanket and placed her favorite pillow near her head. then we walked out the back door and into the field. the inner fence contains about 5 acres, so we picked out a spot in the trees. my father said, "alright, i'll go get the backhoe" and left. we walked back to the house, arm in arm.

it took him about two hours to get the equipment and dig the hole, during that time my mother and i sat and waited while notifying the rest of the family. we ended up joking some of the time, she farted on the couch and i told her she pushed it out (tm steamy) and crying some of the time as well. phoenix died so suddenly and in the same year as my aunt died that it's still a shock. death isn't something you can prepare for but a sudden death hits you in the gut like you can never imagine. when he was done with the enormous hole, he came back to the house and said, "ready?" we followed him out and i helped move phoenix into her final resting place, giving her a final pat when we set her down. my mom wanted to stay and watch, so as the dirt fell over her, we watched. "it really is a nice place," i said. "yeah, it is," she said.

phoenix had her problems, she slobbered, she bit a few of the neighbors, she didn't like puppies but i think that's more to do with the fact that my mom's not an authoritative dog owner than that phoenix was a "bad dog." she would have been more well behaved if my father had taken a bigger role but he did not. he disliked phoenix and everyone knew it. she was loved for 6.5 years and she couldn't have asked for a better life or a better alternative to her beginning.

all in a row, november 27th

the next day, my father called while i was on the way out the door at work, going to lunch. i wrote down the entire conversation when i got off the phone because i was so shocked by it.  (my words in quotes) "hello?" hi yeah well, phoenix dying last night and all, very traumatic and everything.  just so you know, we don't want another dog. "ok-" and when we do, we wanna pick it out. we don't want some cast off, busted stray. "alright." ::door slam:: what are you even doing? "leaving for lunch." ok yeah talk to you later. bye.

his tone wasn't blunt or even informative, he was aggressive, like i was standing in front of him with a bloody, three legged, one eyed, foaming at the mouth dog with obvious skin and anger issues. like i had killed phoenix with my bare hands and hurt my mom or at least brought this upon them by adding her to the family. it was clearly all my fault. logically, i know that he is wrong. logically, i know that he's the one who's broken. but i wasn't ready for this assault. this assault took place much too quickly and with no warning and no time to prepare the proper armor or swords.

great danes live, on average, 6-8 years. phoenix was 6 and a half. phoenix was on PPA (phenylpropanolamine) for urinary incontinence which can cause strokes. i discussed these risks with my mom and we had her on a low dose but she chose to continue the drug. she was nervous dog in general and had just lost her canine companion (resulting in higher blood pressure). this occurred without my knowledge or recommendation. it is my best guess that phoenix died of a stroke at a reasonable age for her breed and size. this was most likely mitigated by the factors i described above but it no way could be contributed to her congenital tail defect.

i feel i was unjustly attacked and blamed.  i know i did nothing wrong. i feel hurt. i feel like i'm back in high school and i want him to die. that night i flipped him off from bed so i could get some sleep. he lives about 8 miles away. i thought our relationship was getting better. i was building up a small fondness for him little by little. i was slowly trying to turn him into "my kooky old dad," trying to forget the hurt he has always caused me, trying to forgive and forget. i was trying to be take him on his terms instead of trying to make him into what i'd always needed him to be. my brother said, "he's never going to be a tv dad," in a conversation i had with him after the incident. "of course not," i said "i wish he would work on just being human."