"Without You" Lady Spanklin' Costello del Carver
(better known as Stella)

Born: January 25, 1991			Died: September 10, 2008
	August, 1991	December, 2006

   I've lost my baby girl.  Apparently, she had at least two strokes.  The first took away her will to eat.  The second took away her life.  After 17 years, 7 months, 2 weeks and 2 days . . . ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~    What in the world was I doing in a pet store?  I was going to Florida shortly.  Soon to move there, actually.  And I already had 6 dogs, 3 cats and a hamster going with me. . .  For whatever reason, there I was.  And there she was.  In a pen with her sister, a black and tan.  How could I, who had fairly recently fallen in love with dachshunds, not check 'em out?

   I hadn't thought about wanting another dog.  I didn't need another dog.  But this little girl was so feisty, so insistent that I pay attention to her.  Her sister, on the other hand, seemed almost frightened.  THAT would never do in my household.  Any new kids would have to be able to hold their own with the current crew.  And there was just something in this red pup's eyes which said, "I can do that . . . Daddy . . .".  Hook, line and sinker.

   So, Stella joined us in May of 1991.  Her name (above) has two sources.  How could a name that long not?  *laugh*  First, there was her brother, Abbott.  I couldn't just name her "Costello", though.  That's a boy's name, in my head, anyway.  So, I added the "Lady".  I went with "Stella" as a call name, I can see it as a derivative of Costello, can't you?  And then, as high-spirited as she was, I knew I'd be calling her name frequently.  Who hasn't viewed the scene from "A Streetcar Named Desire"?  The middle/end part pays homage to her Chihuahua sister.  Spanky came from a puppy mill ("Carver's" - I plead ignorance at the time) and couldn't be registered, even though she was purebred.  So, when I registered Stella, I wanted to, in a way, register Spanky, as well.  Turns out I never registered either.

   While obviously an "Alpha" dog, Stella bided her time.  Her sister, Penny was the undisputed boss.  However, when Penny left us in 1997, Stella became "Alpha Mama".  Being the only female left in the house, seemed only natural that it should be all about her, eh?  She never abused the power, though.  Just gently led all us guys around by our noses.


   While being spayed, Stella stopped breathing a couple of times.  I could have very easily lost her then.  Subsequent surgeries (dentals - which, being a puppy mill dog, she needed frequently, a couple of bladder stone removals, etc.) were terrifying for me.  Always came out like a champ, though.  She was a tough little girl.  Eventually, it reached the point where surgery was out of the question.  Only if she were 100% going to die without it would her vet attempt it.  Never came to that, thank you very much.

   I wish I could tell you stories of the time she heroically rescued me from a well (à la Lassie), or all the fancy tricks she learned.  But, she never did any of those things.  She was just a little mini-dachshund who loved me unconditionally, and whom I loved with all my heart.

   The last couple of years I watched as the Stella I knew faded from view.  Her eyesight dimmed, her hearing lessened (though how much of that in the early stages was 'doxie-deafness', aka selective hearing vs. actual hearing loss I'm not sure).  Her kisses were no less sweet.  At one time, she would've licked my face off if I let her.  Eventually that stopped, and with less and less frequency I got a single kiss.  Somewhere along the line, she quit barking and, more sadly, quit wagging her tail.

   She could, however, still see shadows.  I know because when it was breakfast or supper time, she would walk with me, well, actually prance, as I went to place her bowl down.  That makes me smile even now, thinking about how cute she was.  About six months ago, that stopped, too.  But, she still ate, she still cuddled (even without kisses) and wasn't in any pain that she allowed me to see.

   Then came the last two months.  I knew "Stella" was pretty much completely gone.  I began thinking it was "time".  I cried, I prayed, I pleaded. . .  Yet, still she ate, still she cuddled, still she seemed free from pain.  I couldn't do it.

   And, Sept. 7th/8th, in the overnight hours, Stella trapped herself in the bathroom (she shut the door most of the way).  I don't know how long she was in there, but it was obvious she'd been pacing, pacing, trying to find her way out.  When I went to feed her, she ate very, very little.  I attributed it to exhaustion.  Staying up all night, walking the entire time would be hard on a 17-1/2 year old little girl.  Plus, there'd been other times when she wouldn't eat real well.  I didn't worry a whole lot about it.

   She didn't eat Monday night.  Now it was getting serious.  I bought cat food.  I bought "Cesar's Filet Mignon".  I bought baby food.  No interest whatsoever.  Nothing eaten Tuesday morning.  Or night.  By now I was frantic.  I called a vet (not hers as he was closed by then).  They suggested boiled chicken (obviously not knowing my lack of culinary skills), something/anything which would smell really, really good, to entice her to eat.  I had a chicken and dumplings microwave meal, so I heated that up.  She maybe licked a little of the gravy.

   She was just an itty, bitty thing (5 pounds, max).  She couldn't go on like this for long.  From somewhere in the deep recess of my brain, I think "Pedialyte".  Off to the drugstore I go.  There I found "PediaSure".  I decided it would be even better than Pedialyte.  I came home and managed to get ~24 ml. into her.  Nonetheless, I knew it really was time now.  Because I was so slow-witted, she would starve herself to death. . .

   That night we slept, if it could be called that, with her cuddled in my arm.  We got up later than normal, as I had decided it was time to go to the vet.  I carried her around the house, talking to her, talking about times spent together in each room.  Crying the whole time.  As I left, I let her brother, Cheech, sniff her and say good-bye.  I knew she wouldn't be coming home.

   We got to the vet's about 5 minutes after he opened.  After examining her, he thought she'd had a stroke.  She couldn't smell the food, couldn't taste it, wasn't interested in it.  He gave her an injection which might help.  Continue with the PediaSure and baby food.  No Lasix for right now (she'd been on it for ~5 years)  Come back Saturday and we'll see how it's going.  He'd given me the best, and the worst, thing he could have.  Hope.

   I brought her home in the best mood I'd been in all week.  Unfortunately, I had to go to work.  Still, I stayed upbeat all day.  On the drive home, though, I started feeling worse and worse.  I hesitated walking to the front door.  Put the key in . . .  When I opened the door, she was in the entry, unable to stand.  Would she get worse before getting better?  I didn't know.

   I brought her into the bedroom, laid her on the bed and covered her up.  I took care of my boys then came back to be with her.  She was cool, not shivering, but her body was cool to the touch.  I put a heating pad under her to help keep her warm.  Then the horror started.  She started crying out every so often.  Maybe it was wrong, but I couldn't take her to a stranger. . .  She'd had the same vet virtually all her life.  Every cry brought a cringe from me.

   I had to put her brother to bed, then I was going to come back and just hold her.  It didn't take me more than five minutes . . .  She was gone when I came back into the room.  I'm not sure I can ever forgive myself for not being with her this one last time.

   The next day, when I called the crematory I'd used for everyone else when they went to the Bridge, the number was disconnected. I was frantic!  I trusted them 100% with my babies.  I'm so paranoid about unscrupulous people, I really didn't know what I was going to do.  But, I found these folks on the Internet (www.lastingpaws.com) and then went and checked them out in person (it's about a half hour away) on Thursday.  I decided they were okay.

   I was able to watch as they prepared her (paw print, lock of hair), then when they put her in the crematory.  I know some people may think this morbid, but for my own peace of mind, that the cremains I receive are truly my baby girl, it was necessary.  They allow people to wait , so naturally I did.  I probably could have stayed in the same room even.  Didn't think that necessary.  I was but a room away.

   After an hour and a half, I also watched as he removed her and placed her in her urn.  They were very nice and professional and the final presentation is wonderful.  I wouldn't hesitate to recommend them to anyone.

So, with heavy heart, I brought my sweet little girl home for the last time . . . The story of The Rainbow Bridge
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(The picture above is how I will always remember my baby girl)

(A big ol' "Thank you" to all my Internet friends who have been with me throughout this ordeal.  Special thanks to Jean, my super doxie buddy and AnnaMarie, who also knows the pain of a recent loss.  And to my sister - I love you and appreciate you so much.)