Belle

In late-summer 2003, I learned that my company was re-structuring and I was being laid off. I could have sought a different job at the same investment management firm, but I felt it was time for a change. I was actually excited and told my husband, Mike, “I can look for a job close to home. And we can get a dog.” “We don't need a dog,” he replied. So I set about doing my research to see what kind of dog we'd look for. I assumed we'd go to the SPCA or some other shelter, but I wanted an idea what to look for. I settled on a Brittany. That's when I found American Brittany Rescue. I told Mike all about the breed and ABR and my plan to start volunteering with ABR to get to know the breed. “We don't need a dog,” he said, “but if you want a dog, I guess that's okay.” I scanned the ABR Web site regularly. By that time, Mike was looking, too. In late December, we found C. Though known as Snickers at the time, C was being fostered by Kelly Murray in Virginia. I told him I'd let him name the dog. He likes short names. We couldn't settle on a good, short name, so as a joke we started shouting out letters. When we got to C, I immediately thought of CeCe Bloom, Bette Midler's character in Beaches. It stuck. C looked pretty pathetic. Even after she'd made immense improvements under Kelly's loving care. She was 7.5 years old, had bad ear infections, callouses on her elbows from her concrete kennel, and she was very skinny. It was obvious she'd been kept in a kennel and used for breeding. In late-January, Kelly delivered our baby to us. The love affair had begun. Six months later, Mike told me he loved me for knowing we'd needed a dog. “I love CeCe,” he admitted. And he did. She was his baby. He always referred to her as his pretty little girl. We fattened the gentle little soul up nicely, and she really was a beautiful, loving dog. She had a few weird quirks, but that just made us love her more. She quickly became an integral part of our family. I did some fostering for ABR, too. C would always get depressed and lonely after the fosters left. That's when we decided we needed another dog to keep C company. In February 2004, we adopted Meg (then Cassie), an owner-assisted placement from Ohio. Meg was nothing like our obedient, sweet little C. She was quite a handful. She chased our oldest cat, Moses, relentlessly. She wasn't trying to eat her, just play with her. But Moses would have none of it. When not even repeated shocks from the e-collar she'd come equipped with would stop her, I was about to give up. It was making me crazy! I complained to Kelly, C's foster Mom, who reminded me of the 6-month commitment. Knowing I couldn't give up on Meg yet, I turned to the ABR message boards for help. One of the volunteers suggested ditching the e-collar in favor of a water bottle filled with vinegar water. I was absolutely amazed to discover that it worked like a charm. The e-collar has been in a drawer, unused, ever since. That's when the love affair with Meg, aka Crazy Girl, began. Meg and C became fast friends. They didn't play together much in the normal sense (C didn't know how to play!), but they were pals. Mike and I remarked often that we couldn't imagine life without our doggie-girls. C gave us quite a scare in January 2007. She'd been having some bouts of vomiting. An ultrasound revealed a very large tumor in her spleen that needed immediate attention. By immediate, I mean, the vet said, “I've already pushed all other surgeries back. This needs to be removed today.” The splenectomy was successful. With vitamins and some ground beef once a week, the vet said she'd do well. And she did. Until Spring of 2008 when the unthinkable happened. C started showing signs of illness. We tried all different kinds of treatments. When X-rays didn't reveal anything untoward, we tried different medications, different foods, a variety of supplements. The poor girl had diarrhea for months and lost quite a bit of weight. She'd fattened back up and things seemed to be under control. Then, in October, the diarrhea started in earnest again. The vet recommended an ultrasound. The results weren't definitive. Her liver looked bad and her intestinal walls were showing signs of thickening. “We can do some exploratory surgery or continue treating her and see what happens,” the vet said. The choice was ours. He wasn't pushing for the surgery. C seemed to be doing well until about mid-November when she started showing signs of lethargy. She moaned a lot and we noticed abdomen swelling. That's when we knew the time had come to make the hardest decision of our lives. The vet told us, based on his 20+ years of experience, that it was most likely liver cancer. He assured us that he would have done exactly what we had done and would not have opened her back up either. Mike and I stayed with C until the very end. It was the hardest thing either of us have ever had to do. But she deserved it. We cried for days. We were all lost without C. Meg especially. I knew we'd get another dog eventually, but seeing Meg suffering prompted me to start looking for another dog in early December. It had only been a couple of weeks, but I wanted to get the process rolling. That's when we found Belle on the ABR Web site. I was a bit hesitant at first. She was young, only 17 months, and she looked an awful like like C. I didn't want folks to think we were trying to get a carbon copy replacement. Mike had seen her picture, too, and read her story. His interest was definitely piqued. After a gazillion e-mails back and forth with Michelle Falkinburg, Belle's foster Mom, I went to meet her. I fell in love instantly. Belle moved in on January 3. Despite our initial thoughts of renaming her, once I'd met Belle, I knew the name fit. So Belle she has remained. She's the perfect little dog for us. She's a little firecracker who runs like the wind when she's outside, but she's a total lap dog inside. Literally. In fact, I've had to learn to share my lap with Belle and my notebook computer. Meg loves her, too. The two of them play constantly. Belle runs circles around Meg, but Meg puts in a good effort. Once again, we couldn't imagine life without Belle. Mike and I firmly believe it was fate. Belle was meant for us. While we'll never forget C, who was a much different dog than Belle, we're very pleased to have Belle as part of our family. Belle's foster parents, Michelle and Chris Falkinburg, who helped bring Belle into our lives, still wish they'd kept Belle for themselves because she is such a little jewel. That's the hardest part of fostering. An article in the recent ABR newsletter about this aspect of foster parenting ended with, "If it helps anyone, remember we are helping some families heal as well as the Britts." Thanks to Michelle, Chris and ABR, our hearts are on the mend. Our family is healing. And we are totally in love with our new little girl.