Eva - The Dog Who Taught Me How to Heal

Eva was a wonderful creature with the greatest capacity to bring happiness. She could warm your heart with her smile and her face could melt the coldest of hearts. I loved her so very much. I miss her so very much. She was one of the greatest blessings to ever come into my life.

Before I met Eva, I was an unhappy and broken person, drifting in life with no purpose. Then one day, I came across a post on Craigslist from someone who wanted to re-home their dog. Her name was Eva, a beautiful Samoyed. I contacted the person to meet Eva. When I first saw her, her two hind legs weren’t moving, she was dragging them around. But Eva didn’t notice. She was excited to be outside, dragging herself across the grass. Her face was full of joy and light. She didn’t have a care in the world.

I didn’t take her home that day. Instead, I wanted time to consider caring for a disabled dog. But the next morning, I brought her home. I didn’t know exactly how I could help her, but I was determined to make her life as beautiful as possible. I just loved her smile and her cheerful attitude. Seeing her brought joy and hope into my life. If a disabled dog could be so happy just to be alive, why shouldn’t I feel the same? She shifted my perspective. Helping her gave me purpose again.

I took Eva to the vet to find out what was wrong. They said she couldn’t feel anything in her lower body, though her back legs moved slightly as a reflex. The vet believed she had a spinal injury but couldn’t tell from the x-rays, so they recommended an MRI and suggested water therapy to stimulate her spinal column. I contacted her previous vet, who told us that just a few months earlier, Eva had been walking normally. That made me even more curious about what had happened.

I decided to get the MRI, though I didn’t have the funds. I started a GoFundMe and while waiting to reach our goals, I took her to water therapy. During her sessions, her hind legs moved as if she were trying to swim. It gave me so much hope. After a couple of months, nothing had changed, but I finally raised enough for the MRI. The results of the MRI showed a growth in her spinal column. Our vet said she would need a biopsy and a specialist.

The first specialist we saw was pessimistic. They told us Eva would never walk again and seemed more focused on money than on her recovery. But I still had hope. I dreamed of her walking, running, and playing again. I wanted her to have a long, happy life. The second specialist was different. They suspected cancer in her spinal column, but since it was caught early, there was a good chance she could be saved and maybe even walk again. She would need spinal surgery and months of chemotherapy.

That sounded like the miracle I had been waiting for until I saw the cost. Tens of thousands of dollars. My heart sank. I could barely afford the MRI. I would have paid anything to save her if I could, but I just couldn’t.

So, I decided to make the rest of her life the best it could be. We built her a wheelchair from parts from the hardware store. It worked for a while but kept breaking when she ran too fast. Watching her run in it was pure joy. Her face would light up every time we went to the park. Later, we got her a wagon. She loved that just as much.

Caring for her had its ups and downs. Eva wore a diaper since she couldn’t control her bladder. We covered the sofa with sheets and blankets in case it leaked. I bought foam rugs so she could move around the house. Any time someone said “restroom,” Eva would jump off the sofa and race to the bathroom, sometimes too fast, dragging little accidents behind her. We kept a wet vacuum ready. I had to help her relieve herself in the bathtub by gently pressing on her bladder. Sometimes she didn’t fully empty it and got UTIs, which meant rounds of antibiotics. Getting her to poop was easier. I just had to run my hand along her belly. Afterward, I would wash and dry her. It was exhausting but her smiling face would melt any weariness away.

A year after the first MRI, I met someone who wanted to help Eva, offering to pay for another MRI. The results of the MRI were heartbreaking. Her cancer had spread far up her spine. The specialist said there was nothing more they could do. I had already prepared myself for this day, knowing she wouldn’t live forever, but it still crushed me. A few months later, her sphincter stopped working. Cleaning her became nearly impossible. She was having more accidents and caring for her grew harder. But, I couldn’t stop loving her. After a week of this, we took her to the vet. There was nothing left to do. We decided to give her one last beautiful weekend, filled with fresh air, park walks, sunsets, burgers, fries, and her favorite treats.

The morning of her final day was the hardest day of my life. I felt dread, guilt, and heartbreak. She was my family, but I knew keeping her alive would have been difficult. When we arrived at the vet, Eva was cheerful as always. She was soaking up the attention.

The vet gave us some time alone first. When the moment came, I held her close while they started the procedure. I cried the whole time. She rested her head down with her eyes still looking at us and I stayed holding her until she was completely still. It felt like no amount of time would ever be enough.

We had her cremated and placed in a beautiful wooden box with her picture. The vet also gave us her paw print and nose print. I framed them and they sit in our living room where I see her every day, just like when she used to lie beside me while I read or took a nap.

Eva made my life better. She gave me purpose. Caring for her gave me meaning again. Every morning, she gave me a reason to get up and try. I didn’t get better after Eva. I got better because of her. Even after she was gone, I knew I had done something meaningful. She loved me unconditionally. I loved her with everything I had. I’m slowly rebuilding my life and have found my life’s purpose. And I want Eva to see me smiling, just as big as she did.
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