The line to the casket progressed slowly. At the moment my oldest sister was weeping uncontrollably as she gently caressed the face of our first sibling to pass out of this life into the next. Lila Faye Shirley/Farmer had succumbed to a stroke that had rendered her paralyzed with limited brain activity. The prognosis was that she would have to live on life support indefinitely. On the advice of Lila’s doctors and approval of her family, the support was terminated. My sister passed away peacefully, ready to meet her Maker.
A tug on the line I was holding jolted me back to reality as I moved closer to the casket. The tug came from the 15-pound gray Schnauzer at my side whom Lila had named Millie. Lila had been alone and needed a companion. Millie was an excellent choice. Lila was in her later years and developed health issues which kept her at home much of the time. As Millie matured, she took the role of a service dog. She loved Lila unequivocally and knew her moods intimately.
When Millie and I got to the casket, memories ran through my mind like a movie and the tears began to flow. It was hard saying goodbye to my sister, friend, and heroine. I forced myself to move on past the casket and soon we were headed to the grave site where our final farewells were said.
After Lila’s passing, there was a discussion about who should get Millie. Finding Millie a loving home was at the top of her sons’ priorities. My wife and I were asked if we would take her, and we gladly accepted. We believed the angelic dog of whom we had heard so many positive comments, would be a perfect fit for our family. We were not prepared for the trauma Millie experienced in losing Lila nor the total confusion with which she must deal in the transition to a new environment. My sister lived alone and didn’t have a lot of people around her. In our home, the opposite was true. There were “strangers” who constantly challenged Millie’s ability to adjust. At first, she was not very tolerant of anyone, even my wife and I, touching her. I concluded later it was because she had no experience to help her understand our intent.
Our first assignment was to make Millie comfortable with her new surroundings. We brought her toys, bed, and made use of everything with which Millie was familiar. We were patient and understanding as Millie was apprehensive when we approached her. Sometimes she would lower her head and turn her eyes from us as if she was worried about what was coming next. She would cower in her bed for hours.
There were times, like when we were playing with Millie, that we had rays of hope about Millie’s embracing our efforts to make her welcome in her new home. But as time went by and Millie faced unfamiliar situations poorly, a nagging concern began to surface that Millie might never be able to comfortably blend with our family. Above all, we had to avoid chaotic situations where Millie’s reaction ran the gamut of what an excited, bewildered, and fearful might do. The bottom line was that she could not be trusted with our two grandchildren who were often at our home.
Out of deep concern for Millie’s acceptance of us and the liability she represented, my wife and I sat down for a serious discussion about Millie’s future with our family. We felt if we could see life from Millie’s point of view, we might gain insight into earning the keys to her heart. The conclusion that my wife and I reached, was that we had failed to grasp the magnitude of challenges that a new home meant for Millie. Millie was already traumatized by being separated from Lila from the time of her stroke to the time of her passing, which was about two weeks. What a dog with Millie’s intelligence was expected to just accept was mind boggling. We knew the only hope we had of Millie adopting our home completely, was prayer and all the love we could shower upon the little dog.
We felt from the beginning that it was God’s will for us to have Millie and a relationship for which Lila would be proud was enough to help my wife to decide to redouble our efforts and not give up on Millie.
Soon, with God’s intervention, we began to witness a subtle change in Millie. She accepted our petting. Her little grey, bobbed tail would “swish” furiously and she would give us an opened mouth smile. Over time, we watched as Millie began to make other loving connections in our family. It was a beautiful thing to experience. Our hearts turned to God in thanksgiving as we saw relationships begin to build.
My wife was the first to receive the unconditional surrender of Millie’s heart. They became so close that Millie knew exactly when to expect her in the evening from work. As soon as my wife came in the door, Millie would bound over to her in anticipation of hugs and caressing. Gradually, Millie and I formed a bond as well through games. I would chase her and say, “You better run!” She would run from one end of the yard to the other at top speed and I would “try” to catch her every time she passed by me. She loved our daily walks and other walkers began to affectionately speak to her in recognition.
My family was around her a lot and Millie began to look forward to those times. Millie adored my youngest daughter and they would take naps together, with Millie asleep on her chest. As the years went by, Millie became the belle of the ball with the groomer, the Veterinarian, and all who knew her as a customer or client. We boarded Millie once for an extended period of time. The secretary at the facility told me that Millie was taken out of her cage and allowed to roam at will. She said that often Millie would sit in her lap while she typed on the computer.
But Millie’s body was getting older and wearing out. I noticed on warm days, she would stop to rest as we walked along the sidewalk. This was very unlike Millie, but I didn’t push her and she set the pace. A few months ago, Millie started vomiting and appeared to be in a great deal of pain. We took her to the Vet and was sent home with pills. The vomiting did not stop and I took Millie to a specialist. The Veterinarian kept Millie overnight and I went to see Millie the next day.
The Veterinarian was a very young lady but had the reputation of being very competent. Millie’s gall bladder had ruptured and exposed her organs to the toxic bile. The Vet felt an operation was necessary to save her life and even with that radical procedure, the chances of her survival were slim. With any treatment, Millie would suffer intense pain during recovery. Considering what was best for Millie, the decision was clear.
The Veterinarian gave Millie a relaxer and something that put her into a peaceful sleep. She then administered the medication to stop the heart. As I rubbed Millie’s still body, I wept uncontrollably. The Vet came around the table and put her arm around my shoulders. I asked for Millie’s body to be cremated.
Millie’s ashes reside in a prominent place in our home. They are sealed in a beautiful white box which makes us feel Millie is close. But most importantly, the little white box reminds us that our Heavenly Father used our Millie to teach us that love is the greatest power in the world. Love, perseverance, and a genuine effort to understand what Millie had experienced s made the difference to a confused, terrified little dog that had no strategy to figure out why she was taken away from someone she loved so dearly.
By Phillip E. Shirley