Our Family

Stella’s Story

Running the house since 2011.

Sometimes it's hard to imagine this house was ever without her. Where did she come from? Does anyone even miss her? Did they realize she was gone, lose her or did they cast her out?

I had just been laid off from my job. Every day I would sit at the kitchen table, in my pajamas, scouring the internet for jobs, reworking my resume to get it just right.

It was April, 2011. It was raining and it was cold.

Out of the corner of my eye something white scurried onto our patio. There, a wet, raggedy, shivering little dog sat, obviously scared and hungry. I stepped out the door and she ran toward the back of our yard. I would retreat to the door of the house and she'd follow me. I'd step toward her and she'd run. This little game went on for ninety minutes. I ran into the house at one point for a plate of food and water for the tiny poodle that seemed intrigued by what I had to offer but was still too nervous to come too close.

I put the plate of food inside the back door of the house and left the door open wide. The first time we tried to close the door, she scrambled away, looking back confused and frightened. The second time she came in, I quickly shut the door.  Gotcha!

The condition of this poor little pooch was beyond comprehension. Her nails were super long, her hair matted and dirty. She was super skinny and obviously had been outside for some time. Later I would find out a neighbor saw her running around in the snow in February. She had no tags.

I wrapped her in a huge fluffy towel and hand fed her some food. Within an hour, we were at the vet. They scanned her for a microchip but they wasn't one. The vet said based on her condition, most likely she was abandoned. I asked the vet what I should do. They suggested taking her to the county, where she'd be put up for adoption. Considering she was a small poodle, she'd have a good chance of being rescued. But who knew for sure.  

I looked at the little mess in my arms, and asked the vet if I could take her home. That was definitely an option, she told me. How could I hand this scared little one over to a big scary place, I thought. She just needed a safe place to sleep, some food and love. I had all those things.

I think I knew the second she stepped onto the hard wood floors of our home, no...I knew when I saw her on the patio, that she was meant to be with us. No puppy that looks that disheveled has a good home.  

We decided to call her Stella. The reason why is a whole other story in itself, but in a nutshell, we had tried to adopt a dog not two weeks earlier. A young pitbull named Stella, who lasted about five minutes in our house with the bigger pitbull, Buster. Let's just say, they didn't get along.  

New Stella, the toy poodle, got along with Buster, who was 70 pounds bigger than she was. It didn't take long for her to find her niche in our house and on my pillow at night.

Stella literally has changed our lives.  We may have saved her from living in the forest behind our house but she rescued a place in our hearts.

Buster’s Story

Buster 2005-2015

You always know this day will come. As my 12-year-old nephew reminded me recently, you sort of sign up for it from the get-go. Wise words, kid. Wise words.

It's wretched, and sad, and something I thought I was somewhat prepared to handle even before we got a diagnosis confirming his time with us would be short. But I was a fool. It was much, much harder than I ever expected.

I remember the first day I saw Buster...I was standing in the kitchen on the second story of our two-flat. The husband and I had been married over a year and were well settled into our domestic routine. Our next-door neighbors had just let their dogs out and as usual, I would stare out the kitchen window to watch their cute pups frolic through their yard. This time, though, a new pup had joined the group. A small white and brown-spotted dog scampered through the yard, running around the bigger dog. I immediately called my hubby at work, excited to tell him about it because I'm a total dog person. Always have been. I love everything there is about dogs. I'd have a farm with nothing but dogs and be completely happy cleaning up poop. And no, I cannot watch the ASPCA commercials without crying. It's not that I'm even an emotional person, but when it comes to dogs and that stupid Sarah McLachlan song, it takes literally milliseconds for me to turn into a puddle of weepiness.

Despite that we had barely spoken to our neighbors since they had moved in, that night we stood out in our yard waiting for them to "release the hounds" so to speak. I recall even setting up chairs, which, was so unlike us. We were indoor humans. Not too big on biking, walking, or spending too much time on a patio somewhere...mostly because we're lazy and, well...bugs.

Our neighbor told us their new addition was a foster dog. He volunteered with Chicago Canine Rescue and "Buster" was found wandering the streets of Chicago. Being a Pit mix, this poor little guy was at risk. Not many places adopt pits. Had 8-week old Buster not been picked up by the rescue group, he would have probably found his way into a dog fighting ring or he would have been euthanized by animal control. Our neighbor offered to foster Buster until a forever home could be found.

And then they passed Buster over the fence to us.

He was twenty pounds and cuddly as all heck. He snuggled right into me, and had the most adorable golden brown eyes and a white/pink nose that most Pits have as puppies. I've never been a baby person, but this fur-baby felt right in my arms. 

Eventually, we passed him back and I retreated in the house to do laundry, not thinking much about it.

"We should talk about this." My hubby stated.

"Talk about what?" I asked, folding a shirt.

"Maybe adopting Buster?"

Instantly, something inside my heart twirled like a goddamn ballerina. Next thing I knew I was jumping up and down like a four year old. "We're getting a puppy! We're getting a puppy!"

There was really no "talk" about it. The decision was immediately made. I ran up two flights of stairs and wrote our neighbors a quick letter stating we would like to adopt Buster. I sealed it, ran down the stairs, across the lawn to their house, up their stairs, and stuffed the letter in their mailbox.

The very next day, we waited in the back yard for the neighbors once again. We gave them our contact info, picked up paperwork at one of the rescue events, and the adoption process began.

Fast forward through ten wonderful years with the best dog ever...and by best, I mean, Buster acclimated to our lifestyle almost immediately. A lazy, indoor dog that likes to watch TV and lounge around in bed all day? It's like he had our DNA. He never ruined a couch, ate a shoe, peed on a rug (the hubby may have, but not Buster), and over the years had a sensitive tummy we treated every few years with our vet but never an accident in the house because of it. He was always a gentle creature with a gentle heart filled with love for his humans and had a huge amount of patience when it came to his "sister" Stella, the poodle who came into our lives four years ago, who is a tenth of his size but barked at him, bit his ears, and herded him like she was his equal.

Still, we knew "something" wasn't quite right earlier this summer, when the medicine we regularly gave Buster for his tummy issues didn't correct the problem. We were asked to go to a specialist for an ultrasound and potentially endoscopy. The vet examined him and told us Buster's heart sounded odd. His diagnosis was consistent with congestive heart failure. His distended abdomen meant fluid was potentially leaking into his belly. They drained the fluid but told us to find a cardiologist--no small feat when there's only three in our area and they are all booked out for 6 weeks. Buster needed attention immediately. I was frantic to get him in to see someone. I was ready to beg, borrow and steal. Luckily, we got him in with a cardiologist up north, but, an ultrasound concluded Buster was living on borrowed time. 

Buster had a rare form of an aggressive cancer. There were multiple tumors inside the sac around his heart. Fluid was building and, while they could drain the fluid again, there was no cure. All we could do was make him comfortable and, as she put it, "spoil the shit out of him."

My hubby and I were devastated by this news. Buster was our child, our four-legged baby. I knew he wouldn't be with us forever but the vet said he might last six days, maybe six weeks, but not six months. We spent the rest of that day in a haze. Unable to believe what the vet told us. He was only ten! We thought we had more time! 

That night as I held him in my arms in bed, I could not stop crying. I was an emotional wreck and suddenly, every sad song on the radio seemed aimed at us. My favorite iHeart radio station played "You Light Up My Life" by Debby Boone (a song my mom loved when my sister was born, a song that always brings me to tears as it is) and all I could think was you've got to be f*cking kidding me! 

Within a day or two, we started making a bucket list for Buster which included a trip to the beach, a roll in the mud, and several BBQ's with the family where he ate whatever he wanted. My nephew, who grew up alongside Buster, spent most weekends with us. 

We did indeed spoil him...until it became apparent the time had come to make the decision we dreaded. It would be the hardest thing I'd ever do--and I've buried a parent! 

That morning, a month ago today, we spent his last moments with him, on the floor at the vet, as they gave him a sedative. All I could think was how unfair it was to lose him. We stayed with him for a long time after he was "gone." Walking out of the vet, leaving him behind tore at me. 

That day and the days since, the outpouring of emotion and condolences from people has been overwhelming. People closest to me were with us that entire weekend, while friends and acquaintances, some who I haven't spoken to in years, reached out. Some said they were so sad or even cried that day when they heard the news and these are people who never even met Buster. 

Buster was so loved by so many people. That's one special pup.

It's been a month since we said goodbye to Buster and my heart still aches with grief and loss. I still have moments where I find myself looking for him and then realize he's gone. I go to bed at night and my feet have too much room at the end of the bed and I say to my husband or to myself "I miss my boy." Eventually, we will rescue another pup but no one will ever take Buster's place. The thing that keeps us going is knowing he was given the best life, better than most humans get, and that he filled out life with such joy. For that we will be fur-ever grateful.

XOXO Buster, we will miss you until our last breath is taken.

Posted October 2, 2015

Wilbur’s Story

Wilbur 2015-2020

In 2015, several weeks after we lost our dear boy, Buster, my hubby and I went on a trip to Marco Island. We needed to get away, grieve, and decompress from the great loss of our lives.

We always knew we’d rescue another pooch. And I had high expectations - I wanted another boy doggie, with short hair, and a laid back attitude. A coworker had recently rescued a dog from Northern Illinois, and she passed along the name of the woman who’d just received a litter of pups, who’d come up from Kentucky. In fact, the pups had been born in the van on the ride up north.

She shared a picture of a little white and brown hound mix that instantly melted my heart. His name was Wilbur. He was part of the Charlotte’s Web litter, with mom being Charlotte and his siblings being Templeton and Fern. How adorable, I thought. We should go see him.

Now go see him is always code for go get him. I knew right away he was the one, and when we arrived at the home where he’d been living the past several weeks, I instantly fell in love. He was tiny. Maybe five pounds. He sniffed around, all floppy and cute. I gave my husband a look he could only respond to with nodding. Yes, let’s take him home.

When Wilbur came home, Stella was suddenly, for the first time, the largest pooch in the house. Buster had been 80 pounds to her 8. Now she seemed to loom over this tiny little pup who couldn’t quite get his bearings. She might have given us a “what the heck is this” look at first, but in no time, the two were best friends.

Wilbur grew fast. And still, Stella would give us the look. By the time he was full grown he was about 45 pounds, but that didn’t stop Stella from giving him the business. He was such a good boy, he would let her think she ran the joint.

In April of 2019, we noticed a lump on one of Wilbur’s legs. After a few visits to the vet, we received the diagnosis that he had lymphoma. Lymphoma is incurable. The only thing we could do is try chemotherapy - which doesn’t have the same side effects it has on people - and enjoy what little time we might have.

It was a devastating blow. But we were able to have him with us, in remission, for almost a year. Much longer than we ever expected. As 2020 rolled in, a checkup revealed his lymphoma had returned. The second round of chemo didn’t help, and we were told to enjoy our time left. We got an additional three weeks.

The night he collapsed was the signal we were nearing the end. Two days later he had significantly stopped eating and we knew it was time.

With heavy hearts, on April 10th, we took him to the vet to assist him with crossing over the rainbow bridge. We were fortunate to be able to be by his side, sooth him as he drifted off, and say our final, heartbroken goodbyes.

There is a sweet story about a 6 year old’s wise words on the short life of a dog. He says, “People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life — like loving everybody and being nice all the time. Well, dogs already know how to do that so they don’t have to stay as long.”

We miss our baby boy. We still look for him on his spot on the couch, I wait for him to come running for an ice cube (one of his favorite treats), and we hear the bells on the door he’d ring to go outside.

Stella certainly misses him too. Her buddy has left, and it’s just not the same without him.

Posted April 21, 2020