Pure Joy by Danielle Steel

not that she died as a result of being buried. It’s interesting how kids view things!
    My oldest daughter’s Norwich terrier, Jack, was also very long-lived (the one who loved bubble gum and candy). He lived to be about nineteen and finally just wore out. He spenthis last few days with me, sleeping in my bed, so I could watch him closely, while my daughter went to work. He was so frail by then that she didn’t want to leave him alone, so I kept him with me. Jack and I had had a civil relationship for his nineteen years, but he was an independent sort, mostly attached to her, and he and I never really got closely connected. And as he lay in bed dozing on his last days, I saw him look up at me and panic. He looked like he was saying, “Oh sh--, this must be
really
bad if I’m with
her
!” Sadly, he lingered, and the vet finally said that it would be kinder to euthanize him. It’s a decision my daughter had to make with her next dog as well, and I ached for her over the agonizing choice she was faced with. We’ve never had to make that decision with any of our other dogs, and it was a very, very hard one to make. But sometimes it’s the right one. There are different ways to handle the process. There are vets who will come to your house now, to do it at home, if you prefer it. But any way or place you do it, it’s a tough decision. And I’ve just learned that there is hospice for dogs now too. I hope it never comes to that for any of your dogs, or mine.
    And even in sad moments, our family seems to create comic situations inadvertently. John and I promised to bury Jack in our garden, so my daughter didn’t have to deal with that sad task. John dug a hole, only to discover when we wentto bury Jack in a wooden box that our very old houseman had filled the hole with water from the hose (nearly creating a mudslide into our neighbors’ garden), and there was no way to bury the dog, as the box floated on the water. John frantically bailed water before my daughter got home. We just got the job done when she appeared, while John stood there soaked, trying to look casual, and told her he’d been repairing a broken sprinkler. She never knew what had happened, but I still remember the hole filled with water and John frantically bailing, while we tried to bury her dog before she got home.
    Even when we lose our pets in the appropriate span of time, it is never easy and always seems too soon.
    My daughter Sam lost her childhood dog, a black miniature dachshund, Mia, who reached the end of her life at fourteen. As dachshunds are prone to, in the last few months of her life, she developed severe back trouble and lost the use of her back legs. We lovingly drove her home from L.A. to San Francisco to help nurse her, and she had everything from steroids to acupuncture and improved remarkably. She could walk again! And she finally seemed well enough to go back to Sam. I was planning to drive Mia back to L.A. after well over a month with me, and Sam was jubilant at having Mia come home and at how well she was doing. And then Mia played a final trick on me. All the plans were set for the drive to L.A.the next day, with the vet’s approval, and that night, hours before her triumphant return to L.A. (which seemed miraculous given the shape she’d been in two months before), Mia died quietly in her sleep. I couldn’t believe it and was bereft for Sam. I drove to L.A. the next day anyway, and instead of handing Mia over to Sam, I had the unhappy task of telling Sam the bad news. But I wanted to tell her face to face, so I could put my arms around her and hold her when I told her. It was a terrible loss to Sam, but fortunately she still had Chiquita, the sixteen-year-old Chihuahua who had moved from New York to live with her. But we will always miss, love, and remember Mia.
    The same thing occurred when my son Maxx lost his Boston bull Annabelle, also of his childhood. She was in perfect health and never showed her age, at fourteen. She