My Guiding Light

Has Gone Out.

It's a sad day in Greenville, Delaware, as I write this. Writing is a lonely occupation, if you can call it that, but I could always count on my dog, Tango, to be by my side. While the rest of my family slept, I would be filling a plot hole or giving my character a reason to keep going. Tango would be right there, unwilling to leave until I turned off the computer and headed to bed. Only then would she follow me, ready to rest too.

Her decline was slow and gradual. It didn't happen overnight, and I had plenty of time to get used to the idea that she wouldn't be around much longer. A standard poodle can only live so long. Each year on her birthday, I'd look up the average lifespan of her breed and assure myself that she might beat the odds. They said 16 years, and sure enough, she turned 16 in March. Her vet said she was in great shape, but a week ago, everything changed. She stopped eating, then drinking. Her hind legs gave out. She sat down in the middle of a rainstorm and wouldn’t come in. My husband had to go out, fetch her, and carry her to her bed. The look in her eyes—a helplessness—let me know it was time to let her go. She was staying for us. The not eating, defecating while lying on her bed, unable to get up—we couldn't, we wouldn’t, let her suffer. We made the decision, and the vet came to our house. On a beautiful summer morning, we said goodbye to Tango.

We gathered around: my son, who was with me when I first got her and held her on his lap as she peed and threw up on him the entire way home; my husband, who initially didn't want a "girlie dog like a poodle," but became their staunch defender, calling them the smartest and most athletic dogs on the planet, unfairly saddled with a terrible haircut; and me, who wanted a dog with some brains that I could housebreak in a day. I got that and so much more. Tango taught me to open the door for her by barking at me when nature called. HA! I also got a dog with a heart that showed me how to live with boundless love and energy, becoming the heart of our household, the glue that held it together.

The house feels empty without her, but her spirit lives on in every corner, every routine, and every memory she blessed us with. Tango may be gone, but the love she brought into our lives will stay with us until we leave too.

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