Diva earned her wings on this earth
Almost 11 years ago, I woke to weight on my chest and an increasingly wet face. Sky had brought home a little Airedale puppy named “Petite” from a local breeder and I was instantly hooked. Sky and I had just gotten married earlier that year and were still unpacking boxes from our new home… and this bundle of black-and-tan energy was the perfect fit.
We named her The Divine Ms. Mellencamp (after Sky’s favorite musical act Better Midler and mine, John Mellencamp), “Diva” for short and she quickly became the center of our world. She was the cutest puppy, constantly hyper except for Sundays when, after a long Saturday of running and playing she became what we referred to as “weekend puppy…” and she’d sprawl out on the floor, exhausted from the previous day’s activities, content to lay with her mommy and daddy and waste the day away.
Diva, as is common for her breed, was an obnoxiously smart puppy. Perhaps the most-told Diva story came when she was still less than a year old. We had put a little jingle bell on the door so she had a way to tell us when she needed to go outside. Everytime we’d take her out to go potty, we’d ring the bell and say “Go outside!” and then take her out to do her business. One afternoon I was making myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and she was sitting impatiently at my side, occasionally barking to let me know she wanted some of that delicious, peanut butter goodness. After being told “no!”, she left and a few moments later I heard the bell ring.
“Good girl!” I exclaimed, meeting her at the door. “You need to go outside?”
I went to open the door and instead of heading out, Diva burst back into the kitchen, throwing her front legs up on the counter and grabbing the PB&J sandwich.
Damn dog.
And I wasn’t the only victim of Diva’s cunning. When we’d take her to dog parks, gung-ho dog owners would hurl sticks as far as they possibly could into small, man-made lakes. The obedient labradors and retrievers would bound into the water, eagerly racing to see who could retrieve the coveted prize first. Meanwhile, Diva would splash around in ankle deep water, patiently waiting for the winning dog to swim back. When the lucky canine would return with his bounty, Diva would snatch the stick out of the exhausted dog’s mouth and dance victoriously back to us as if to say “Look, I got the stick! And I didn’t have to swim!”
When I went running, Diva was my constant companion, prancing along side of me proudly for miles. She’d perk up even further when other dogs would pass by or bark at her from the window, happily wagging her tail at the prospect of a playmate.
Diva also became fairly popular in the small town of Green Bay, appearing multiple times on TV with Sky, so much so that people would recognize her on the street or ask Sky about Diva when she went out on stories. One of her proudest moments (okay, one of OUR proudest moments, Diva wasn’t too thrilled about it) was winning a Green Bay area pet costume contest. She wore one of daddy’s white t-shirts, mommy’s old fairy wings and a bag of her small puppy teeth around her neck and went as the tooth fairy. When it was her turn to walk around the ring, she pranced joyfully as she always did, her wings flapping slightly and I turned to the person next to me to say “Well, this contest is over.”
When Sidra arrived (and later Zalen), Diva’s demeanor with other dogs changed. She became fiercely protective of her new siblings and any dog attempting to get near the stroller on a walk risked losing an ear to the bodyguard Airedale. In later years, after settling into our current home, we became a foster home for dogs and the first 24 hours for the newcomers were always tough. Diva would roll them, pin them down, as if to pound into their heads who the leader in the house was. Then and only then would Diva allow the new dogs to share her home. We finally brought a second dog into our house for good, Baron, and Diva once again slammed him into the turf of our backyard, letting him know that just because he was a new member of the family didn’t mean he was the boss.
For most of her life, Diva lived with an abnormalilty in her heart. It really shouldn’t be a surprise as she was loved so much by her adoring family. In recent years, her problem went from minor to major until finally it became obvious it would be her undoing. The most recent x-ray our vet showed us revealed that Diva’s heart had grown so large it was practically bursting through her rib cage. It would only be a matter of weeks.
However, Diva pressed on. Outside of her heart condition she was still the same wonderful puppy we’d loved our entire lives. She enthusiastically met us at the door… still loved to accompany us on walks, even if her condition didn’t allow them to be as brisk or as long as they once were.
Within the last few weeks, it became a little tougher for Diva to get around. Her weight began to drop, she was eating less, and the dog who lived her entire life around 50 pounds or so had dropped to 40. When she got groomed last week, it was shocking to see how thin she had become. Nevertheless, she was still there everyday when I got home from work, tail wagging, smiling…
This morning, Diva’s body finally gave in. At 4:30 a.m. I awoke to Sky’s voice.
“Tony, Tony… She’s gone. Diva’s gone.”
At first, in my groggy state, I thought she meant Diva had left our bedroom and I didn’t understand why she’d be telling me this. Then I realized what she meant.
“No…” was all that came out of my mouth.
On the floor, in our room, Diva lay motionless, her eyes open, but otherwise looking peaceful. She had finally had enough. It was time to go be weekend puppy in heaven.
Today, I picture her prancing in the clouds, running unhindered and eating peanut butter and jelly to her heart’s content. I already miss her so much but feel blessed to have had her in our lives.
God Bless You Diva. And thank you.
