Little Ginger Bear…

    I have followed Glenn Beck for some time, watched him on TV, read his books, listen to him on the radio (when I can, night-shifter I sleep through the day).  I admit he has been influential on some of the stories I’ve written, as any intelligent, thoughtful person would influence me.  I had recently posted a bit of a review on his last book Agenda 21 but I didn’t expect him to pull this story out of me…  A story that if given the choice, I would change.

It started with a tweet Mr. Beck sent out.

       Glenn Beck‏@glennbeck

       When do you know it's time to let your dog go? He is a family member. He is so

       tired. He has stood guard over us for 12 amazing years.

This question pierced my heart, having gone through this myself so I sent this reply.

       @glennbeck So Hard To Do, I Went Through It With A German Sheppard That

       Saved My Life. I Couldn’t Do It, She Did It On Her Own. I Miss Ginger Bear

Here is the story of Little Ginger Bear…

    Ginger was a full blooded German Sheppard, creamy white with a black saddle and markings I picked up as a pup when I was stationed at Dyess AFB, Abilene TX.  From the very start she surprised us with her intelligence and gentleness.  She took to the basic commands, come, sit, stay, ect… with very little training (if any).  Ginger would fetch anything you’d toss with a simple “Get it”, dropping the ball, stick or whatever at you feet.   We were a Foster Care family for the Abilene area so we had different children staying with us some short-term some long, some of the children had never been around a dog before so they would pull her ears, her tail, even jump on her… she never snapped at them, she just took it in stride as if thinking “I understand”.

 

     A few years later after I retired from the Air Force we moved onto a little plot of ground in Southern Indiana surrounded by farm fields, woods, hills and a pond.  A quiet place for her (and me) to wind-down and relax a bit, age was starting to slow both of us down.  After a couple of more years I started to have medical problems, I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes (insulin dependent).  My blood sugar would skyrocket to 500 making me tired and sluggish or it could drop to 60 making me shaky and confused (normal is 95 to 110).  Ginger started to pick up on when my sugar levels were dropping (I’ve been told it’s a sense of smell thing) anyway she would nudge at me as my sugar level would go low, a heads-up to get some sugar in me.    

    One day after a long night’s work I took my insulin, had my dinner and went to bed, I must have gotten the insulin dosage wrong.  While I was asleep my sugar level dropped to a dangerously low level, had I been by myself that most likely would have been my last day.  I wasn’t alone; there at the foot of my bed lay Ginger, a protector watching over me as I sleep.  She knew something was wrong, she pawed at me till I woke up but I couldn’t move, my body was a trembling mass. I opened my eyes but I couldn’t see all I could register were bright flashes followed by total darkness.  I couldn’t respond to her pawing and nudges that’s when I felt her clamp down on my shirt and start pulling at me.

    Ginger pulled me and I slid from my bed to the floor still unable to control my arms and legs, still unable to see.  I began to think to myself “I’m in real trouble” but Ginger didn’t give up she kept tugging and pulling, with what control I could muster, I followed her.  She guided me as I slid across the floor through the bedroom door to the steps that went down to our kitchen.  She slowly took me down each step till I was on the kitchen floor.  On the kitchen table I kept a bowl of skittles for when I felt my sugar going low, she pulled me towards the table.  I reached for the bowl grabbing a handful of the candy and shoved it into my mouth.  It took another ten minutes or so for the trembling to subside and my vision to return but while I sat there Ginger laid quietly with her head on my leg my hand on her back, I felt safe.

    When I could finally stand and see clearly I used the my glucose meter to get a reading on my sugar level, it was at 38, still very dangerous, it makes me wonder how low I had gone.  A couple more handfuls of skittles and I was back to normal and headed back to bed with Ginger laying there watching over me as I slept.

    More years passed and time had begun to take its toll on my Little Ginger Bear, some days it was hard for her to stand up, she no longer ran in the yard, most of the times she just laid down and watched the world go by or she slept.   Then she began walking a path around our house when I’d take her out, almost as if she were lost and when I called her she would give me a confused look, I could see in her eyes she did not recognize me…  I don’t know if dogs have a version of Alzheimer’s but its what I felt she was going through.  Within a month I knew her time was coming very soon, she started having seizers and often I had to carry outside so she could do her business.  She couldn’t climb the stairs to the bed room anymore so I slept on the couch to be with her.  Over the next few weeks I sat on the floor with her head on my leg my hand on her back as I had done so many times before, as I had done the day she saved my life.  She would look up at me sometimes with that lost confused look, other times a, I’m just so tired look.  I knew it was time but I’d ask, let her take that last breath with her head on my lap, I couldn’t bring myself to… to do what I needed to do, what I have done with other animals that were suffering.  Yes, I have put down dogs before and yes it hurt me to do it but it was my responsibility to ease their suffering. 

    I had come home from work several hours late one day I didn’t find Ginger in the house as I walked around, my wife told me she let her out earlier.  I searched the yard, the barns and scanned the fields but I couldn’t find her.  The winter air was bitter cold and a panic came over me.  I took the 4-wheeler out to the edges of the fields and along the creek beds, still no sign of her.  I walked the deer trails through the woods but nothing.  After a few days of looking I had to accept she was gone.  She had done what nature had programmed her to do.  As I think of her last moments I picture maybe she laid quietly in a soft bed of leaves in the woods, birds chirping the sun giving its warm glow upon her as she closed her eyes drifting off into a peaceful slumber.   At least that’s what I tell myself, the truth is I failed her.  I had been selfish by not facing the truth and cruel by delaying the inevitable.  It was my responsibility to end her suffering, to end her confusion and fear.  Instead I allowed her to wonder off alone into the bitter cold... 

I had failed her.