The Dog Blog of Penny & Bridgette

A LITTLE HISTORY - before Penny & Bridgette there was Iona

The story of Penny and Bridgette began with Iona, the most beautiful, sweet West Highland White Terrier (Westie) whoever lived. Everybody loved Iona. That's her above:

I wanted a dog in my life and I decided on a Westie, so I set off for Hemet on a warm spring day in 2002. The ad had said there was a litter of puppies 5-6 weeks old. When I arrived, I found all boy dogs in a child's playpen (sans the child). How would I ever choose? They were all so cute. The breeder pointed out the mother and grandmother of the puppies, who were peering through a glass door. They were agitated, squealing and barking, as if they knew I was there to take one or more of their babies. The breeder's son yelled: "SHUT UP!!!!" They calmed down.

I asked about the possibility of a girl. "Well, I have one in the back. I really wanted to keep her, but..." her voice trailed off as she left the room. When she reappeared, she said: "I guess I have to quit collecting dogs. This one will cost more." I had money at the time and decided I could afford it, would afford it. I wanted a girl dog.

The breeder cried as she bathed the little white fluffy ball in one hand, then dried her with big towel and a blow dryer.

A friend had come with me, which was a good thing. Once in the car, she tried to keep my new little one in check, but it proved almost impossible - the pup was a ton of energy in a super-charged little body. It seemed like a very long ride home. I couldn't wait to let her stretch her little legs.

I named my girl, Iona, after an island off of the west coast of Scotland. Not the Highlands, but close. I had visited the island in August of 2001 and fell in love with its serenity and holiness.

I was taken aback when I took Iona for her first vet visit right after bringing her home. The vet looked at her, stepped back, and said: "Ohh..." I couldn't imagine what was wrong. He explained that some Westies develop skin irritations from the environment - fleas, allergies, etc. - and some did not. We discussed the problem and I could only pray that she would allergy free. Little did I know it would develop into a nasty battle we would fight during her life. The only solution that seemed to relieve that pain and itching was steroids. Knowing what I know now, I WILL NEVER GIVE ANOTHER DOG STEROIDS AGAIN IF I CAN FIND ANOTHER TREATMENT. Period. Steroids can cause cancer.

I discovered Iona's many charming idiosyncrasies throughout her life. She would sit down when she saw someone (human or dog) coming toward her, then she would slowly stretch her front legs out in front of her, eventually laying completely down with her head on her front paws. At the last minute she would jump to her feet to greet the person or dog. Iona loved everyone; however, she would not hesitate to stand her ground, if necessary. She was not a pushover.

Iona was always the fastest dog in the dog park. She was a mere flash of white when she got going. She was a terrier at heart when we went on our walks. She "sleuthed" for scents and often covered them up with her own. She loved riding in the car. I bought her a dog car seat so she could see out the window. At home she loved laying in front of the sliding glass door and watching passersby. None of these are particularly noteworthy as far as dogs go, but they were hers. She was just special in ways that defy description. 

Iona slept with me every night. She didn't crowd me, she just wanted me nearby. I had a couple of storage baskets at the bottom of my king-sized bed that she could easily scale to find a comfortable place on the bed. She was never restless and never made a sound. 

When she was about 10 years old, I noticed Iona would sometimes lay down during our walks. This was unusual even though we would be walking up hill. She had never rested during a walk. She wasn't as active at the dog park and she seemed to be uncomfortable trying to jump in the car. Since these changes were subtle in the beginning, I didn't worry too much. I kept in touch with her vet at the slightest change. Everything sounded fine to him, but things progressed. She didn't get better.

In the fall of 2012, Iona wasn't eating much. I started giving her canned white chicken meat which she did eat enthusiastically; but, that slowed down too. She was getting skinny. I took her to the vet for a routine visit. The vet that day seemed to see something, but didn't say anything. She stretched Iona out on the table and appeared to examine her for something. I didn't know what. She lightly ran her hands over the shape of Iona's body.

Iona stopped hopping up on the bed and instead found a corner by the wall next to the bed. I was disappointed, but told myself she was getting older at 10 years old. On the night of December 4, 2012 Iona made her way to her little corner. I heard the worst noise come from her. It was pain, almost a howl. Deep pain, as if she could barely tolerate it. I did not think she would last through the night. I still didn't know what was wrong, but I planned to visit the vet first thing in the morning, IF she made it to morning. I was very worried.

I pushed through the door of the veterinary clinic the next morning and said urgently: "Someone needs to help this dog." The people behind the counter looked up and ushered me quickly into one of the examination rooms. I told the doctor what was going on and he said (still) that things sounded okay. "We can take an xray, but I don't think we'll find anything." He couldn't have been more wrong. 

The vet came back shaking his head. "It's not good news." Honestly, I wasn't completely surprised, but my heart fell into the pit of my stomach. We walked into a small waiting room where we could view the xray. He clipped the xray to the board and turned the light on. Everything that should have been black was white. Iona was filled with cancer. The tumor had pushed out one side of her rib cage. "I talked to the other doctor, but we agreed that it doesn't look like anything can be done. You can take her to an oncologist..."

I was so devastated I couldn't find the tears. I felt like someone had just ripped my heart right out of my chest. The vet left and said he would be back. I sat there talking to the only soul I knew would hear me - my Iona. She laid on her left side on the couch next to me. "I love you, Iona. I love you so much." She looked at me with a languid look that told me her energy was depleted. Could I possibly put her through chemo or other treatments that may be brutal? I could not imagine it. It wouldn't have been fair to her, such a gentle, loving friend. I finally got down on my knees, took her sweet face in my hands. "Iona, mommy loves you so much." She looked back directly into my eyes.

When I sat back on the couch next to her, she circled around and nudged her right side up against me. It was the side where the cancer was the worst, her ribs distended. I guess I was looking for a sign and, in reflection, I believe this was it. The last thing I wanted to do was to let go of Iona. How could I do that? She was my best and most faithful friend. 

In the end, my decision was for Iona. I just could not put her through expensive treatments (although I would have spared no expense) that were likely to not work based on what the vet had said, and that may cause her some agony, as well as put an end to her quality of life. I wanted her to be pain free and at peace. She at least deserved that much. The hardest decision I ever made was to put her down. I handed her to the vet and his assistant. I couldn't bring myself to witness her death. I knew the vet was a compassionate man and that Iona would be treated with love and gentleness.

I took on her pain in the way of a broken heart. I cried at unexpected times for the many days that followed. I still cannot even write this without tears in my eyes.

This blog, however, is about Penny and Bridgette. They truly saved me. Iona would have loved them.

A BRIEF INTRODUCTION:
This is a dog blog devoted to my treasured rescues, Penny and Bridgette, and their adventures. While they do not "perform" everyday, there is always something to write about them. I hope people enjoy these snippets about their adventures.

This is Penny. She is luxuriating in the devilishly hot sun. She loves it, the hotter, the better. Penny is a snuggler. She doesn't like being lifted or carried, but sitting next to me, she will place her head on my arm or leg. At night she nestles into me and she is happy as pie. Sometimes, if Bridgette tries to usurp Penny's position on the bed, she will let her know it with a growl and a snap. She never bites; just warns...and Bridgette obliges.

This is Bridgette. Unlike Penny, she dislikes hot sun, as well as wind. She will walk out a few steps to test the elements. If she detects something not to her liking, she stops, will not take another step, tugs on her leash and tries to turn around. Bridgette doesn't mind at all being lifted and carried. She will trade places with Penny throughout the night - if Penny gets up, Bridgette takes over. I usually fall asleep with one and wake up with the other.

...and here they are together - a familiar sight from where I stand. 

They love each other, and maybe it's because they occupied the same kennel (or maybe more than one) during their time at the Humane Society. For that reason, at least, I am glad I adopted them together. They left with a familiar face - each other's. Yes, I believe that matters to them.