It was Destiny. Literally.
Seven months after Bernie passed, we decided to dip our toes back in the water and foster a dog. We figured it would be a good way to have a dog in our house without the commitment of full-scale adoption. Plus, I was a little hesitant to get back on the horse, so to speak, having experienced the trauma and heartbreak of watching Bernie’s slow and painful decline.
We contacted the local shelter and asked about a dog. He wasn’t available, but they suggested we take “Destiny.” At first, we weren’t sure. She was older, and as a pitbull mix, she was a lot larger than what we were used to. But then we were told that she wasn’t doing well in the shelter and that she seemed to miss being in a home and with a family. We were also told that she was there because there had been some issues with small children in her prior foster home. She was also difficult to walk, since she liked to pull on her leash and run after anything and everything that drew her ire.
So we took the plunge (in Kelly’s case, literally, as Dessie dragged her into the bushes during our first walk with her). If anything we thought that we could just give her a good home until someone adopted her.
But then she had to go and make us fall in love with her. There was just something so instantly endearing and lovable about her. Maybe it was the way she showered us with love and affection the minute we took her home — almost like she was so grateful that we had decided to take a chance on her that she promised to make sure we would never regret it.
And we never did. Adopting Dessie was one of the best and easiest decisions we ever made. Even her name came to us easily. We couldn’t abide by “Destiny” — I think that name’s been ruined for me since there are a few too many TV shows that have used it as a stereotypical name for a stripper or hooker. Her prior foster family had called her “Desi.” We liked it and decided to change it to “Dessie” so we wouldn’t get a ton of questions about why we named her after Desi Arnaz. I actually wanted to change it to “Daisy” but got so used to saying “Dessie” that it just grew on me. Kelly added the “Lisa Vito” after her favorite character from My Cousin Vinny.
At one point, we almost lost her. A few weeks before we formally adopted her, another family put in for her and we were absolutely devastated and upset at the prospect of losing her. When that adoption fell through, we were happy and grateful and knew that we had to take advantage of our second chance. (We were also a little miffed at the family that backed out — your loss, guys.) Foster failing felt a lot more like success.
Dessie was a lot of things to us. She was our protector. She was our baby. She was our comic relief. She was our dingus (like when she ate chunks out of the dining room carpet — the second time requiring an endoscopy). When Colin came over, she immediately slid into the role of big sister/bodyguard, helping make his transition easier. One of the things we always told our son was that if he ever got scared, Dessie would protect him. And she always did.
Now, we have to learn how to live without our sweet girl. Dessie’s health took a tumble over the last couple of months. Kidney disease and a splenic mass combined to wreck havoc on her. That, along with her arthritis, made the last few weeks particularly painful for her — to say nothing of us. This morning, we made the heartbreaking decision to end her suffering and let her go. She’s not in pain anymore and I assume BB is showing her the ropes at the rainbow bridge right now.
There are a lot of things we’ll miss about her. Like how she would sit on our feet whenever she wanted to be close to us. Or how she would jump up and down happily whenever I served her food (one of the ways we knew it was time was that she no longer took any joy in eating). Or how she would follow us from room to room just to make sure we’d be together. She was definitely a velcro dog. I, in particular, will really feel her absence on a day-to-day basis since I was almost always at home with her.
Nevertheless, we’re grateful that we got the time we did with her. We may have rescued her from the shelter, but she was the who actually rescued us. We were broken when she came home with us. Losing Bernie and navigating the many, many lows of the IVF process had seen to that. Dessie put us back together and made us a family again.
You saved us, Dessie. I only wish we could have saved you. Rest in peace, my sweet, beautiful girl. Give our love to Bernie and Linus. Until we meet again.
