The Power of the Poodle. Denice Vaughn

      Chapter 1

      Grief. Debilitating, overwhelming, physically painful grief. I thought I had experienced every type of emotional pain known to man. I had no idea that grief could literally take its toll on me. I have crawled through hell and back in the forty-five years of my life. Falling down. Getting back up. Battling addiction, fighting heartaches, abandonment issues, poverty, homelessness. Battling and winning in the fight against life. But the battle of the grief that I experienced over the death of my four-legged companion did not hold a candle to even the harshest of my painful experiences. Many people would balk at the concept of feeling such grief over an animal. I barely shed a tear when my father died. I shed a river, an ocean of tears when NeeChee left this world.

      I remember my first encounter with NeeChee. I was going through yet another bad boyfriend breakup. It seemed as though my life was going pretty well. I had survived divorce. I had overcome my addition to drugs. had just purchased my first new home. I was in the midst of a successful career. How the hell I ever landed that job still amazes me. I believe the good Lord was definitely looking after me. Perhaps the job was a small payoff for overcoming such a painful past.

      Thing appeared to be looking up. I had even met what appeared to be a decent man and had been dating for close to two years. He had even proposed to me. We were building a house on his property in the woods. I had met him when my friend and I had gone on a paid horseback excursion. Ron was our guide. He seemed charming and sincere. He had several horses. I had been horse crazy my entire life. Unfortunately, I never had the opportunity to do more than occasionally pay for trail rides every opportunity I could. Meeting Ron was like a dream come true. I was able to become an experienced trail rider. I had many opportunities to ride in the high country of Washington. I was able to see things only one can experience by riding far into the mountains. My hiking legs could have never afforded me the pleasure that horseback riding brought to me.

      Yes, things appeared to be going well for me, yet I suppose my relationship curse was not quite finished. After I had spent $30,000 helping Ron build our home, I was informed that he has fallen in love with his neighbor. They had been friends long before I came into the picture. Darleen had a wonderful man who had been in her life for well over twenty years. Unfortunately, Bill became ill with cancer, and on his deathbed, he and Darleen finally married. She went on to inherit close to a million dollars. Darleen was at least twenty years older than Ron. I never felt threatened by her. We had all become pretty close as she also had horses. Many times we all went horse camping. I spent a lot of time with Darleen and had even taken over the care of her horses while she stayed by Bills bedside. Yet on one fateful day, Ron informed me that as he comforted Darleen while she dealt with Bill’s death, he had fallen deeply in love with Darleen!

      An so there I was once again alone and heartbroken.

      It had been several years since I had the pleasure of sharing my home with a dog. My previous dog was a black Chow Chow named Tasha. I got her when I was in my early twenties. I was a young pet owner, and to this day, I still feel guilt and remorse over some of the situations that I put my poor Tasha through. I never intentionally inflicted pain on Tasha. There were some instances that as an older wiser pet owner I now consider mild neglect. I was young and inexperienced. Of course dogs are ever faithful and unconditionally love us even with our stupid mistakes. Tasha was no different. She was a constant companion in my life for fifteen years.

      At one point in our relationship, I had become addicted to drugs and was forced to flee my crumbling drug-addicted marriage. I packed up my belongings and my dog and proceeded to start a new life. Tasha was the one thing at the time that I refused to leave behind. If I had to sleep in a tent to keep her with me, I was prepared to do so.

      I had been uprooted from the only family I knew when I was a ten years old. It took the drugs and divorce to finally bring me back home. Tasha and I were fortunate to find a place to live, and I was able to obtain a job within two days of returning to my home state. I was extremely poor. I had sheets for curtains and couldn’t even afford a telephone, but I had my dog with me, and I was determined to try to heal from the drug addiction and the painful loss of my husband. On my days off, Tasha and I would go hiking. I had longed for my pacific northwest landscape for over twenty years, so going on long hikes with Tasha was heaven to me.

      After working as a cashier for six months, I was fortunate enough to land a new job. The new job was to sell yellow page advertising. The job was commission only, and I was very concerned as to whether I would be able to make it work. As it turned out, I was very successful and stayed with the job for over twenty years. I was able to splurge on extras, and that was how I met Ron by paying for a trail ride.

      As Ron and I become an item, I made the decision to move closer to Ron as well as my job. Tasha and I once again packed up our lives and moved. This would be the ninth and final time that Tasha would move with me.

      Our new move consisted of an old chalet with a wood-burning stove and no insulation! The stairs to the second floor were so narrow you had to walk up sideways. At this point in Tasha’s life, she was showing signs of her aging and was unable to make it up the stairs. She was starting to go blind and becoming incontinent. It never entered my mind that I would one day have to make the painful decision to have her put to sleep. I remember praying at night that I would just wake up one day and she would have passed in her sleep. As the days went on, I could see that this was not going to happen. I made the choice to have a vet come out to Darleen’s barn. This, of course, was before I learned that she was in love with my fiancé. I made the call to the vet, but they told me they wouldn’t be able to come for five days. Those five days were so hard. Each time I fed her, I remember saying to myself, “One cup closer to death.”

      When the day arrived, I decided to try to put on a happy face for Tasha. I made her a T-bone steak and set about to make the finale arrangements. It was winter, and it had been raining and cold for over a week. On her day of passing, the sun came out, and after she ate her steak, I said, “Let’s go for a ride.” I swear I cursed her name that day. For days prior to that, she seemed barely able to move. But on the fateful day, she appeared to have abundant energy. When we arrived at the barn, she chased the cat and had one game of chase with her German shepherd boyfriend Nitro. When the vet said, “It’s time,” I wasn’t sure if I could hold her as she passed. As it turned out, I was stronger than I thought, and I made sure not to let her see me cry. I held her gently and told her what a good girl she was. I told her how much I loved her, and I told her that I was sorry for any wrongdoing or pain that I may have caused her. I was able to help her go on to Rainbow Bridge, and I hope to see her again one day.