Aria

by Shanna
(Boise, ID USA)

Shanna and Aria...forever soul mates!

I was born an animal lover. I'm convinced it is somehow in my blood to have a perpetual soft-spot for all things furry (or not furry) and adorable. Despite debilitating pet allergies possessed by my mom and sister, I convinced my parents to let me get a "big dog" when I was 9 years old. I took it upon myself to subscribe to the newspaper and came across an ad on Mother's Day weekend advertising baby standard poodle puppies in Oregon somewhere. After hours of begging, sobbing, and convincing, my parents were on board to check out these puppies...but as my mom said, "only take a look". But, if for some reason something worked out, the dog would have to be a little girl.

The ad that caught my eye led us on some sort of a wild goose chase to a little town called Cove. We expected a 2 hour drive and got a 5 hour drive, and we turned into a little neighborhood of delightfully run-down mobile homes. The ad led us to the only non-moveable house on the block--a quaint dollhouse. I was beyond excited. Thrilled, actually. I had always dreamt-literally, I had DREAMT-of having a large, golden haired dog to call my own. I couldn't wait to see these little rugrats.

As we were led to the backyard by the little old man that placed the ad, I sprinted ahead of my parents and little (then TINY) brother. There was a large pen set up with about 12 fluffballs running around, most of them chasing their mother who was in their area visiting. I peered over the edge with glee, overwhelmed. Without time to decide which one to reach down and attempt to touch, a little peach wonder pranced over to me. Not only did she prance over to me, she looked up at me. She looked up at me with adorable almond golden brown eyes. And not only did I touch her, I picked her up, without permission or hesitation. She smelled sweet and she kissed my face that was weary from the long drive and even longer quest for a golden companion. I was instantly in love. She was a velveteen apricot teddy bear that was sent here for me. I paid no more attention to the other little squealing runts in the vicinity because I was holding the one, grunting quietly and laying limply and with complete trust in my arms, that was coming home with us. Around this time, the little old man informed us that the puppies with the red collars were girls. The boys had no collars. Panicked, I grasped for the peach fluff's neck. The red nylon felt like gold in my fingers, and soon, we were headed home.

We got home very late that night, and the apricot one kept me up all night panting. I set her up (in her kennel, as per my parents' insistance) facing my bed and freaked out because I thought she was sick or something. I forced her to drink a bit of water and snuck her into bed with me. She slept snug as a bug in a rug, pant-free....though I spent most of the night marveling at her cuteness. I was most definitely and deeply in love.

My sister chose the amazing name Aria for this new love of mine. Unique and wonderous. Fitting. She was definitely unique. Goofy, but elegant. Quirky. Intelligent. Rebellious. Naughty. Perfect. She ran away several times as a puppy. She got into fights with random neighbor animals. She ripped up a pillow all over the basement and it took a week to clean up. She accepted other pets we took in as her own. She nurtured my entire family and helped us through the death of my mom's father. She mourned when a went away to college and rejoiced when I came back. She scratched my step-dad's cornea during a play-rough wrestling session. She could retrieve toys based on color and breed (i.e. "get the purple squirrel!). She was the only one there for me when I felt completely alone. When someone else called her, she came to me. My room was her room. I was hers. She really, truly, was my soul mate.

I alone made the heart-crushing choice to put Aria to sleep today. She was diagnosed with heart disease a couple years ago that rapidly progessed starting about 5 months ago. We were fortunate to qualify for a heart study around that time and she had the best care possible from the only specialist in our area. I tried to take that time to prepare myself for what had turned into my worst fear: losing her. She collapsed this morning and Tyson and I rushed her to the hospital. Her disease had progressed beyond the point of repair, and her chest cavity was filling quickly with blood and fluid. It was time.

As the tech led her into the room they had prepared for her, her tail wagged slowly. I couldn't help but look into her eyes, those eyes that were once so bright and curious...but were now just tired. Exhausted. Her hair that had once been a deep apricot hue had faded with age to a pale buttermilk. Before she layed down on the ground with me, she curiously headed towards Tyson. She licked him almost furiously for a good 20 seconds, almost to tell him to take good care of her girl. Finally, she settled on her blankets. Instead of doting on me like she usually does, she was completely calm. She gave my mom a kiss when she came in, but just rested her head down until the doctor began administering the drug. First, it was a sedative that puts her to sleep and then, the pink solution that stops her heart and ends her life. As the doctor was pushing the sedative into her catheter and in her last moment of consciousness, just as the drug was putting her to sleep, she made a huge effort. She lifted her head up, and she gave me one last look with her big brown eyes as I sobbed, and then she was gone. I'm so thankful for that last look....but really....I feel like it wasn't enough. Nothing would have never been enough. 2 more months, 20 more months, 200 more years would not have been enough with Aria. Dogs are dogs, and Aria was Aria. She was my soul mate, and I am honestly terrified to live my life without her.