Touching Dog Story: My Life with Tiffy and the Last Time I Saw Her

I have loved dogs all of my life. There is not a single point in time when I didn't beg for a dog if I didn't have one or appreciate my dog when I had one. This story is an account of my life with my very first dog and about how difficult it was to lose her. This was a tough piece to write because, well, I can be a sap at times. I fully acknowledge it and I am ok with it.

One magical day during the summer before first grade, I got my wish to get my first dog...although I didn't know that's what was happening.

My parents told me we were going out for dinner. They said the restaurant was a haul away from town, so I'd have to be patient. Well, after what seemed like driving for hours, my patience started to wane. They pulled into a farm house. I was confused and slightly annoyed. I said, "What are we going to get to eat here?!"

I don't remember what they said. All I knew at that point was that I saw a bunch of puppies and my heart started to race. I still had no clue we were going to take one home, and at that point, I had forgotten about being hungry. I was just excited to be around puppies.

What happened next? I still don't remember. It was all kind of a blur until we hopped back into our truck and I was holding a little white puppy. I think I was in a little bit of shock. I was so excited.

The drive home felt like it took mere minutes (that same drive that felt like it took hours before). When we got home, we let the dog into the house and let her feel her way around her new home.

I do remember that, at some point, we ordered some Pizza Hut. That's about all I could tell you about the food.

Anyway, we named this cute little bichon frise "Tiffany." We usually called her Tiff or Tiffy. My sister came up with the full name after watching the movie "Benji." The little white female dog in that movie was named Tiffany, so it seemed fitting.

Tiff wasn't destined for a great life. The breeders were basically no better than the people running a puppy mill. She was the runt, and she was born with one eye that was a different color than the other. For those reasons alone, they would have put her to sleep if she hadn't found a family.

Tiffy was a part of my life for 15 years. I remember lying next to her as she recovered from being spayed. I remember lying beside her and worrying about how much pain she was in when she had kidney stones. I remember dressing her up in my play clothes and taking her around the block in a stroller. I loved making doggie treats for her in my Easy Bake Oven. When I was old enough to drive and it would've been much cooler to cruise around with my friends, I'd take me Tiffy for a joy ride and couldn't stop smiling as she panted with her head out the window.

When I was a freshman in college, Tiff's health started to go downhill. She had to wear diapers because she couldn't control her bladder. She stopped eating, stopped moving around; her quality of life just tanked. This, of course, devastated me. I knew she was either going to die soon or that my parents would make the difficult, but necessary, decision to end her suffering. But I couldn't let that happen before I got to see her one more time.

It was a cold weekend in March of 2001. I was going to go home for the weekend. I was excited to see my parents and anxious to see my dog. I had been warned that she had lost a lot of weight and that she wasn't the energetic "puppy" I'd known for almost 15 years.

Truth be told, I shouldn't have gone home that weekend, but only because of the weather. We had one of the worst snow and ice storms throughout the state of Iowa, and I had a 3-hour drive ahead of me before I made it home. My parents called my cell phone a few times to make sure I was ok and they encouraged me to stay in at a motel for the night if it got too bad. It did. It was awful. For one stretch of the drive, I could only go 5 mph on a road with a 55 mph speed limit. I should have stopped, but I was so compelled to see my dog, that I would've walked the rest of the way home if I had to.

I thought I was prepared for the worst, but when I walked in the door, I wasn't greeted by my energetic, tail-wagging puppy. I could tell she was happy I was there, but when I reached down to pet her and could feel every one of her ribs jutting out of her now miniscule frame, I lost it. I just laid there next to her and cried.

As sad as it all was, I was happy to spend the weekend with my parents and dog. She actually seemed to some energy and my parents said it was because I had come home. She even found the strength to jump up on the couch and lie on my feet, which is something we had done fondly since she was a puppy. I was grateful that I could make her last few days a little better; even more grateful that she'd made 15 years of my life better.

Sunday came too quickly. I had to drive back to college and go back to class on Monday. I hugged Tiff one last time, hugged my parents, and ran to my car with tears streaming down my face. The reality sunk in that this was the last time I'd see my Tiffy.

About 15 minutes into my journey back to college, I was flipping through radio stations when I stopped at The Byrds' recording of "Turn, Turn, Turn." It was right at the "...a time to be born, a time to die" lyrics. It may sound strange, but because the lyrics to the song were so fitting and they originally came from the Bible, it became the moment when I accepted what was to be and knew I had to just appreciate the good moments instead of dwelling on the sadness. This song still reminds me of that moment every time I hear it, and it reminds me of why I believe everything happens for a reason and that it all works out in the end.

And to end on a happy note, I have to comment on the cute part of Tiffy's last day. My parents had each independently given her a chocolate donut in the morning. Because chocolate is bad for dogs, they had never given it to her before, but they thought she deserved an excellent treat on her last day. What cracked me up was that neither one of them knew the other had given her the donut until they talked to me about it on the phone, so she actually got to eat two donuts; we, of course, were left with one more smile on our faces.