In June of 2008 I was 25 years old and at the tail end of a not-so-great long-term relationship. Just over two months prior, my childhood dog Callie had passed away from heart failure, and when I saw Wendy’s picture in a dog adoption book at Camp Bow Wow (where I worked at the time), the first thing I thought was, “She has Callie’s eyes”…and I had to have her.

I brought her home ten years, seven months, and thirty days ago. She was a playful, silly two-ish years old at the time, and she, above anyone or anything else, showed me what it was to love again.

She’s met so many of my friends – too many to count. She’s gone on hikes, hung out in Falls Park in Greenville where she swam in the river and chased ducks, and chilled at quite a few downtown Greenville happy hours (no wine for her, of course).

And it has been a beautiful ten-and-a-half-plus years with her. Even when things with my life were at their worst, she was always there, with a whole lot of kisses and wags and cuddles. She’s seen relationships end and begin and end. She’s moved from South Carolina, to Connecticut, back to South Carolina, from one Greenville house to another, to Florida, from one Florida house to another, and then back to South Carolina.

She’s vacationed to Lake Mascoma in New Hampshire and Lake Lure and Maggie Valley in North Carolina. (Unfortunately she doesn’t actually LOVE going on vacation, or trust me, I would have brought her along a LOT more.)

Just under nine years ago, I adopted a brother for her. She and Rigby have been the absolute best of friends since; I’m not sure I’ve ever seen two dogs love each other the way these two do.

She loves everyone and every thing, other dogs and children especially (though she’s been known to try VERY hard – and sometimes succeed – at befriending cats).

(She also especially loves squirrels as things to chase and lizards as things to kill and turtles a.k.a. coldblood artillery units as things to bark madly at.)

She loved running, for a long time. And though she’s acted a bit too regal to run the past couple of years, she still loves her walks. In fact, she loves walks in the rain…despite the fact that she won’t go outside in the rain unless she knows it’s for a walk. She still loves cuddling with my cat Ducky and teasing my cat Marmalade, but her newfound regality has given her a lot more courage with Stitch, who she used to be quite afraid of.

These are just the most basic facts about my beautiful, wonderful, perfect dog. I don’t have the words to describe her happiness, her energy, her insanely positive attitude, her absolute zest for life.

But Wendy is, if not more than 13 years old, certainly close to that…and on Monday of this week – about ten years, seven months, and fifteen days after I brought her home – I found out that she has cancer.

A lot happened to lead up to that. She wasn’t feeling well for about a week and a half. I’d taken her to the vet once, but they thought she was just having some back pain. And then on Monday February 4th – about ten years, seven months, and nineteen days after I brought her home – she literally collapsed right in front of me.

I rushed her to the vet. They did blood tests and x-rays and determined that she needed an ultrasound. I rushed her to the emergency vet. They did the ultrasound and determined that she had a ruptured tumor in her spleen. My ‘choice’ wasn’t really a choice: a $4,000-ish surgery to remove her spleen and biopsy the tumor, which had a 50% chance of being malignant, or put her to sleep right then. Did I have the money? Absolutely fucking not. But I couldn’t let her go right then, not with the surgery itself being fairly safe and there only being a 50% chance she had cancer, anyway.

No matter what, I would get more time with her. Maybe a couple months, maybe more, but I would get more time. 

So I talked to Steve, who was with her from 2008 until 2014. I talked to Brian, who has been the love of her live since 2015. I talked to my mom, because I knew that she, more than most people, would understand what I was going through. And between those three people and every. fucking. AMAZING. person. who donated to Wendy’s GoFundMe, nearly half of her vet bills were covered. Seriously – I will never be able to properly thank everyone who helped Wendy and I in this time of need. I hate that the prognosis is a bad one, but every single one of you helped me buy more time with…well, to be honest, the love of my life.

I could still choose to get chemo for her. Unfortunately, the only type that would help with her cancer – which is a cancer of the blood cells that starts in the spleen, and in her case has already spread to her liver – cost $500 every 2-3 weeks and would likely get me 4-6 months with her rather than 3 or fewer. While bad side effects are rare, this is an intravenous treatment that would mean me bringing her to the vet every. single. time. So while it is a monetary decision, I also don’t want to spend two or more months of the last 4-6 months of her life dragging her to the vet so they can stick needles in her.

And so here I am, not even recovered from the stress and worry of last week and now facing the last days or weeks or IF I AM LUCKY, months, of my beautiful girl’s life. I do not regret choosing the surgery, because now I can make the last months of her life as happy as possible. She won’t have gone to the vet feeling extremely ill – after at least a week and a half of not feeling herself, as it was – and never gotten to come home.

And now she will have and do all of the things. I already kicked off her bucket list by feeding her a double baconator with cheese from Wendy’s on the way home from her oncology appointment today, and I have so many plans – gatherings with other pups, all the freakin’ children I know coming to see her so she can lick their faces, friends visiting from near and far, steak dinners and whole ham hocks and trips to Falls Park and maybe even a professional photoshoot.

One of the things I can’t give her, though, is snow. Because she loved that too, and she hasn’t seen it in years, and now it’s probably too late in the season for that to happen in South Carolina.

Of course, even if I could give her that, it would never be enough. Nothing would ever be enough. I will always have regrets, though I refuse to voice them now. Because now is for the good memories we’ve had, and the ones we will make in the coming weeks and hopefully months.

Now is the time for all of the kisses and wags and cuddles…and a whole shit ton of food that I wouldn’t normally feed her.

Wendy spent her last few weeks practically acting like a puppy again. She played with Rigby and Spendid, had many visits with local friends, and tried all the special treats that so many amazing people in my life sent her. She chewed bones and carried around stuffed toys new and old. She ate special food and went on walks and hung out in the backyard, just laying in the sun like she always loved doing.

Ten years, eight months, and nine days after I brought her home – at 4:15 PM on Thursday, March 7th – Wendy collapsed again. I rushed her to the vet and she was bleeding internally. Around 5:50 PM I had to let her go. My mom and best friend Bekah were with us at the end.

She gave me the best ten years, eight months, and nineteen days that I ever could have asked for, and while I know that things WILL get easier, they will never be quite the same without her in my life.