Felicity

 I typically write about the children and Bob on this blog, but Felicity has been gone about eight weeks, and I feel like I can finally write about her.  And I think I need to….

Bob found Felicity through a Bulldog rescue, about 8 months after the kids came to live with us.   He still missed having a bulldog, and would say he had a hole in his heart in the shape of a bulldog. Oh dear.

Bob approached me about adopting another bulldog.  At the time, I was overwhelmed.  When the kids came to live with us, I took a week off, but then headed back to work.  Suddenly a new mom, working in a quick paced organization had found me realizing that all the freezer meals in the world had left me grossly unprepared.

So, when Bob found a photo of Felicity on a rescue site, I told him “my cup runneth over”.    He smiled and told me it was about to overflow.

Felicity’s foster parents brought her to our home to meet us in the yard.  She was full of life, loved us immediately and before I knew what had happened, I was laying in the grass with her.  Ben, our old, cranky dog was sitting 6 feet away, facing the opposite direction.  Personal protest.

The kids loved the new dog.  At the time, Felicity was named Darla.  The foster parents advised us that Darla got cysts on her paws, but an occasional Epsom salt bath was healing them.  It was manageable.

Bob wanted her but I hesitated.  How could we add more?

But, when we heard that another family was interested, we jumped in.  I was walking Ben that morning, on the phone with Bob.  “Let’s do it”, I said, mixed tears in my eyes. “I think she needs us.”

That night we drove to pick up Darla.   The kids were shocked and excited.  I was scared but eager.

We named her Felicity because in French, it means “happy and lucky.”  Bob and I loved all things French since our honeymoon in France, and we wanted this happy and lucky life for our new dog. 

I was on adoption leave that summer, as the kid’s papers had been finalized.  It was mid-July when Felicity came to live with us.  Seven days later, we headed out on a road trip north to see Bob’s family and meet up with my college friends.  On the way, we spent a night at a hotel.

It was around 12:30am when we pulled in to the parking lot.  Bob went into the hotel, getting us a room, while I stayed in the car with the kids, Ben and Felicity.  When he returned, I asked “do they allow dogs?”.  “Not so much”, Bob replied.

“So we are sneaking a 40lb bulldog in?”.  “Yep” said Bob. “ No big deal.  We are going to be here for all of seven hours”.

Felicity sat on the bed the kids were in, and Ben, Bob and I laid down in the other bed.  Felicity never slept.  She stared at me all night.  I know, because I never really slept, worried that she’d misbehave.  Who could blame her?  People she doesn’t know have now taken her on a road trip to God knows where to sleep in some forsaken hotel. 

Visiting Bob’s Dad and Cheryl went well.  Felicity loved their huge property and chasing the frogs in the pond.  We learned she peed in beds when she was angry-and did it several times on our visit.  A kennel was in her future.

We headed to Cincinnati to meet up with friends, staying in yet another hotel….this one pretty fancy.   Didn’t seem to matter to Felicity, who peed in the beds, chewed her way out of two kennels, and ended up visiting Miami University with us because we were fearful to leave her in the room.

Needless to say, Felicity lacked the travel bug.

Shortly after returning home, we learned Felicity loathed the kennel she was in when we were  not home and when she was supposed to sleeping.  However, Felicity would wail, cry and pant when put in it.  She used her teeth to move the bars.  She salivated all over the laundry room.  She was a disaster.  Labor Day weekend, Felicity cried all night and by morning so did I.  The rescue recommended a behaviorist.  We were all desperate.

The behaviorist observed and listened.  Felicity appeared to have crate terror for whatever reason (thinking back, lacking her history-probably about a million reasons) and could we try not putting her in the kennel?

We did.  It worked.  We put her bed in our room.  She slept there.   Amazing that we had to pay for this advice.

Such was life with Felicity, always an expensive puzzle.

By Christmas, Felicity’s paws became a greater issue.  Bob and I were soaking her daily and at the vet often because the cysts would burst and become infected.   They were on her paws, there was no way to avoid it. 

Our vet recommended a veterinary dermatologist.  Felicity got allergy shots.  Felicity did a food trial.  Felicity got a section of the pantry for her medication.  Bob requested his own parking space at the vet.  We were helping the clinic make their monthly goals.

By spring, Bob and I were beside ourselves.  Our beloved dog was a medical mess.  We had a sum in our budget for dog care that would have afforded a Mercedes with no down payment.  We were having to make tough choices for the family in order to afford her care.

Our vet suggested taking Felicity to North Carolina State Veterinary School for evaluation.  We took a day off work, had our friend Brooke keep the kids into the evening, and spent a day there.  When we entered the treatment room, we were greeted by 4 doctors.  The lead, a lovely woman from eastern Europe, was the leading dermatological vet in the US and had trialed and coined several of the drugs Felicity was already taking including Apiquil.  She had physicians with her from Estonia and Latin America.  Felicity sat in the middle of these doctors, smiling her ridiculous smile, and letting everyone pat her and talk about her.  She was the princess of the day.

They kept Felicity all day and Bob and I found a restaurant to hang out at.  We drank beers, answered emails and prayed for answers.

When we returned to get our sweet girl,  we learned that she had a genetic disorder that was causing the cysts.  Felicity’s skin couldn’t manage her follicles well so, if one hair, and one hair only, became ingrown, she got cysts.  Which then got infected.   The cycle was not curable.  The NC state team had seen this but one time before and a much more mild case.  We were given medication, ideas, and tools to remedy the symptoms, but there would be no cure.

We left discouraged, but feeling like we did the right thing for Felicity.  The team was kind, and gave us personal email addresses to keep in touch.   They were awesome resources for the next two years.

And so it was.  In Felicity’s short life of three years with us, her body became covered.  She was bumpy.  The receptionists at the vet called her ‘Lumpy girl’ with deep affection.  We tried to keep the infections at bay but she was a ticking time bomb, because if one ruptured, it abscessed, and meds, emergency surgeries, and treatments became more and more urgent. 

This became our life.  The kids prayed for Felicity each night.   My sweet, snoring bulldog slept in her bed beside me at night.  I would put my face beside hers and tell her she was loved and that I knew God had sent her to me.

Some nights, Felicity slept with Isaiah which was wonderful.  Isaiah was often scared of the dark or being by himself, so having her there was a comforting force.  She’d cuddle with Isaiah and love on him.  She exuded love.  No dog has loved being in a family more than Felicity which gave Bob and me tremendous comfort.

Felicity and Ben were friends.  They’d chase each other around the second floor and we’d find them cuddling on a dog bed from time to time.  They came camping with us, sat by the fire, hiked, and even waded in lakes. 

Felicity was intended to be Bob’s friends, but as luck would have it, Bob often was the medical caregiver to Felicity with some unpleasant items, so she really didn’t favor him.  But he was so worthy.  It just never happened.  I was off from working that summer she came to live with us and as such, I became her person.

I loved her in a way that I didn’t know possible.  Felicity was not the best behaved.  She was costly.  But I adored her and I loved being her mom.  When I was gone at night, she’d sit in the mudroom and wait for me.  She’d look out the front door as I drove away.   She’d come in to the bathroom with me.  She followed me into the pantry so often that she got locked in there.  I called her Love Girl because with all her issues, she was just full of love.  Felicity gave love unabashedly.  She was joy, in spite of her health.  Joy is the feeling of love and appreciation regardless of circumstances.  That was Felicity’s spirit.

I always knew Felicity would not be an old dog.  I also had a gut feeling that she’d be gone before this summer.  So, one Friday, a cyst on her back became inflamed and she wasn’t responding to medication. She hung in there with us all day but by 11pm, she looked at me, and told me she was done.  I held Felicity all night, on and off.  She slept with us.  She vomited in our bed.  I knew her time had come.  I longed for the vet’s office to open, eager to remove her pain.  If I could have put Felicity down in the middle of the night, I would have.  Watching her suffer was agony.

We woke the kids that morning, and told them, as we had discussed before, that God needed Felicity and it was time for us to let her rest.   The kids were sad, crying, but understood.  We drove across town and held sweet Felicity in the family room at the vet’s office as she transitioned to heaven.  I almost broke entirely went Bob whispered in her ear “Have fun, old girl”.  Quietly, my joyful friend slipped away as I held her.

The kids were hanging in there, so we headed to their soccer games later that morning.  I was ok.  Mom commented that I was so ok it was surprising.  That night, we had dinner with our neighbors….the only place I felt I could go and really not have to put on a front because they are the salt of the earth.  I was exhausted but ok.

And then it hit.  For the next several weeks, I was destroyed.  I cried each time I was alone.  I was so angry.   I missed my friend.  I thought I heard her every place I went, I thought Felicity was going to come in the room.  I held it together at work only to come home and fall into bed.  Bob kept things going.   He even sent me for a pedicure.  No one could have been a better partner.  He took care of me.

For weeks I felt this way.  I wanted to stay in bed for a day but my schedule wouldn’t allow it.  After a few weeks, I gradually began to remember Felicity and her complete ridiculousness with a smile.

She was the first dog I lost that was really mine.  While not intended, she was my dog and she was my friend.  When Bob worked at the fire station overnight, I would lift Felicity and have her sleep in my bed.   I played with her.  I loved holding her.  I would kiss the top of her head.  I would squat down and Felicity would run to me.  I loved seeing her silly self run up the lawn to me. 

I know she’s in a better place and Felicity is whole now.  Time does heal all.  And that’s why I can write about her. I think about her daily and her ashes sit on a shelf in my home office-creepy, I  know.  Bob had a great idea to take her with us this summer on our adventures, and scatter ashes where she would have loved.  We plan to scatter some at Bob’s Dad’s house since it was her happy place to run and play. 

The great thing about Felicity is she showed me that I have a capacity to love that I didn’t even understand.  I love Bob, the kids, my family, but I loved her with a zeal that I didn’t know.  So, because of that, she’s with me.  She made me better. 

And she’s waiting for me.