Me and My Arrow

My parents used to show me and my brother an old 70's cartoon. We never really had much growing up, so if my memory serves me correct it was recorded from TV onto an old Beta Max that my dad managed to keep working. Yes, you read that correctly. A Beta Max. My fellow babies of the 80's might not even know what the heck that is! But it worked and we were able to watch everything we could manage to record.

Anyway, me and my brother insisted on watching Harry Nilsson's 'The Point' over and over and over and over again. We couldn't get enough of it. We just LOVED it. The cartoon is about a boy named Oblio who was born in a pointed city. Everything in the city had a point, even the people on the tops of their heads... except for Oblio. It's a happy feel good story that is really quite predictable. Oblio gets bullied and banished and goes on a journey only to discover that he is in fact no different from anyone else. Then he returns and teaches everyone a lesson of compassion. All the while his best friend and greatest companion was right by his side helping him through every hurdle, his dog Arrow, "the greatest dog in the world."

Anyhow, this post isn't to tell you about Harry Nilsson or the fact that my parents kept a Beta Max much longer than they should have. This post is to tell you about my 'Arrow' and her name is Malia.

If you are a friend of mine or know me at all by my online profiles and postings it's no secret that I LOVE my dogs. And not just my dogs, ALL dogs. I can't help it. It's just something inside of me that won't go away. If they're big or small or fat or sick or mean or ugly...I just love them to no end. The love and compassion for these animals that I have can be accredited to my parents but mostly I'd have to blame my dog Malia.

It was two weeks before Christmas when I was seven years old and my parents surprised us that we were going to get a dog! I remember the moment all too well. We were sitting at the table for breakfast and they said it was time we added a new member to the family. My brother was terrified and immediately thought we were getting a younger sibling which got my dad laughing hysterically. They assured us it would not be a boy or a girl, but a dog.

We. Were. SO. EXCITED! ...and so the search began.

We went to the closest shelter immediately after breakfast. I can remember the sounds of all the barking dogs and wanting to just take them all (so, really nothing has changed since I was 7.) I remember pointing out bunnies and kitties to my dad only to be reminded that we came for just ONE dog. My father and brother went off looking at older dogs. My dad had his eye on a chocolate lab while me and my mom made our way to the puppies. There were so many. Stacked in crates and larger kennels so people could make over their cuteness. There was a couple standing at the face of one particular crate trying to coax a lone puppy from the back. After a few moments with no success they moved on to another puppy more willing to give them the excited puppy reaction that people expect from the little things. I decided to take a peek...and what did I find? Cowering to the far back of the crate was the SMALLEST puppy I had ever seen, shaking and terrified. I stuck my fingers in and she hesitantly sniffed them and gave the softest little doggy kisses. My mom alerted me to another crate behind me and just as I went to turn around the poor little brown and black pup jumped up and let out a bark. And that was it. I wanted THAT puppy. My dad and brother came to look, with a little hesitation and disappointment that I didn't want the already grown and playful Labrador. We weighed the options, but somehow I convinced them that it was THIS puppy we were going to be taking home. And we did.

As soon as we got her into the car she let out the biggest sigh and went right to sleep between me and my brother. I'm pretty sure we were smiling the entire car ride home. Everything was going great. The first few months was just as you would expect of having a puppy in the house; potty training, chewing, teething, and more potty training... My dad thought we were also training her to sleep in our laundry room at night. But I couldn't stand her crying and whimpering. I would wait until my parents went to bed and sneak her into my room and we'd sleep on my bed, then I'd wake up extra early and return her to her 'room.' Well, we got caught and it was too late, she was accustomed to sleeping in my bed so as long as there were no accidents my parents gave in and agreed to let her sleep with me. and that was that. She was always by my side. It was PERFECT.

Several months after our perfect adoption something happened. She couldn't eat, she wouldn't play, she was sick. We took her to the vet where they ran test after test, poked and prodded... only to give us the horrible news that she had a rare disease and most likely only a 10% chance to live. When my parents explained this to 8 year old me my response was (and my father loves telling people this) "If I were sick you wouldn't put me to sleep would you?" ...and so the fight for Malia's life began. We visited specialist after specialist and paid for prescription after prescription. At one point it got so bad that we had to spoon feed her baby food. And this is what we did for almost two years. All the while my mother and father were teaching me compassion and patience for our poor Malia that we loved so much. It got so ridiculous that our family members started calling her our Trillion Dollar Pound Baby because the vet bills were through the roof. But we kept caring for her and she kept fighting and finally she came through. It was a miracle!

Time passed, I went away to college and returned and it was almost suddenly, Malia grew old. First her hearing started to go and then her arthritis kicked in. Her eye sight wasn't so great and she no longer greeted us as enthusiastically as she used to. Although she was old she continued to give so much love and we continued to love her. For the last five years we have been caring for her once again hand and foot. Hand feeding her on the bad days and picking her up when she fell. But in true Malia fashion she continued to fight and never complained once. Malia became a staple in my household. You didn't visit me or my family without knowing our Malia. She grew so old that we would joke we were going to have her forever (knowing this was a ridiculous thing to say) but seriously this girl just kept going and going...

Yesterday, after seventeen years of fighting, Malia has passed. She fought until the very end and she passed peacefully in my arms with so much love around her. Even though she is gone now I owe her SO much for helping me be the woman I am today. I learned many lessons about selfless love, compassion, and companionship from my old sick pound puppy that words can't even express. She was my 'Arrow,' my companion, my best friend and she will always be the Greatest Dog in the World.