Connor Hawkes

The Early Twilight

She had been moved between houses so much that you couldn't even call it re-homing anymore. From my count, it was 7 times in her five young months of life. I had seen a post about her from a friend of a friend, and as soon as I saw her, I knew I wanted to give her a forever home. I'd been struggling with anxiety and depression for years, and my therapist had said that having another living being that could pour into me the way I would for them, would be something that could save my life. With all of these reasons, I knew I had to get her. At the time, I was living with my parents who were extremely against getting another dog, and they said if I came home with one, I would not be allowed inside. After days of struggling through it, I knew that my mental health, along with saving this dog, was more important than the "rules" my parents had put in place. So, with a few phone calls, I had a place to stay for a few days, and I had arranged for this enormous puppy to be brought down halfway where I could meet and pick her up. Apparently, her name had been changed by each of her owners that she didn't respond to anything. During the entire three hour drive there, I was wracking my brain for name options, and nothing was coming. Eventually, I got there and as soon as I saw her get out of the car, my heart melted. She was bigger than any dog I'd had up until that point, even at her young age. Her dad was a black lab, and her mom was half German Shepherd/half Great Pyrenees, so I knew there would be lots of kibble in our future. From that first moment that I pet her and held her, I knew we were in it all together. On my way home, I was really trying to find names for this beautiful baby, all curled up on the floor of my passenger seat, staring at me the whole time. Eventually, after drawing hundreds of blanks, I started looking at what I knew about her personality. She was quiet, a little slow, incredibly loving, and she had a depth and wisdom in her eyes that belied her young life. A word popped into my head and as I spoke it aloud, she looked up, "Sage." I called my parents, and they could see the love I already had for her. They said we could take it a day at a time and see how things went. During my long days at work, she would have to be with a sitter, but I was willing to do whatever it took to keep my dog. Two days after I brought my girl home, I was minutes away from leaving to pick her up when I got a call from the sitter saying, "I don't know what's wrong with Sage, but she started yelping, drooling, and she's now passed out and not breathing. I'm taking her to the emergency room." I drove frantically, praying that I would make it in time to see her, not knowing what was going to happen. As I wove between traffic, I felt as though my life was crumbling, a shiny new puzzle piece of my life may be removed without warning. After arriving and waiting for hours, the doctor told me that she was comatose upon arrival, but she was coming to, and they had no idea what was wrong, but they needed to keep her for observation. I waited a day and was able to pick up my girl. Aside from a shaved patch on her leg where they had put an IV, she was the same loving princess. I stayed home from work for a few days to take care of her and make sure that she was doing alright, and as time passed, my anxiety decreased while I had Sage home. The following Wednesday, exactly a week after I had gotten her, I walked outside where she had been sunbathing to find her passed out, with the same symptoms as the sitter had reported. She was laying on her side, drool coming out of her mouth, not responding. I screamed for my dad and we rushed to the hospital. They took her inside as I was crying in the car. The doctor came out an hour later with a report different than the first time around. Somehow, they had missed some swelling in her brain, and they now deduced that she was having seizures, causing her immense pain. The doctor told me that the only option was to either allow her to go on living like this, or make the decision to put her down and take away her pain. I could never allow her to be in such pain, knowing what I did then. After only five short months of life, my angel was finally laid to rest. They say that the twilight years are those at the end of life, but she didn't get to experience any. She had a life of pain, but in that one week I knew that she was able to feel true love for the first time, and for that I am incredibly grateful. She taught me that it's ok to open yourself up to love, even if it means getting hurt. It cost me a lot of time, money, and pain in the end, but it was all worth it, knowing that I could finally give her love and eventual peace. Sage was the best girl, even in her Early Twilight.