Miss Marla

Our Marla is an 85 pound-would-like-to-think-she's-a-little-piece-of-lap-fluff-doggy-but-umm-she's-not. She is a mixed breed (Australian shepherd and Rottweiler) and is showing the signs of hip dysplasia and what we're pretty sure is a tumour growing on her right side, which is being checked this week.

She came to us over 5 years ago, already mature in years: happy (read: whining constantly for attention), well-trained (read: she didn't, and doesn't, pee on any furniture); and loving (read: whining constantly for attention). There have been times that we have not been the best pet owners owing to mounting frustrations over things that had nothing to do with her, and for god's sake, Dog, stop that damned whining I'm trying to think!, and our underappreciation at times on what a terrific dog she really is.

I don't give a shit anymore about the loads of dog hair covering the brand new futon at the cottage. I don't care that she barfs on the living room rug leaving stains that I cannot get out (no matter what magical product is supposed to work to remove it). I don't care that she whines urgently at 2:30 in the morning because she has to go outside RIGHT NOW to do her business. My heart is breaking because we have to help her up the stairs from the family room when we go to bed at night. Tears fall when Jeff has to lift her up into the back of the truck because she cannot make the jump anymore and she looks at us with those big brown eyes to say, "Please. Help me. I cannot do this alone."

Knowing we may not have much time left with her is a horrible way to truly realize just how much joy and love she brings us...and love her we do. She is on the receiving end of even more cuddles and hugs and kisses from all of us because we understand that the time she has left should be enjoyable and filled with love. She has made us realize that good dogs are a precious gift and we are ever thankful for being on the receiving end of that lesson.