Mandee Widrick

Experiencing the loss of a loved one is tragic and difficult. I experienced such a loss about a week and a half ago, when I lost my beloved companion and sidekick, Libby.

Libby was a beautiful black lab that I had adopted when she was only 8 months old. When I first brought her home, I had to keep her on a leash at all times. If I didn’t, I could expect a chase that would last a minimum of 2 hours. That dog had legs that just didn’t tire. She also had a taste for dead animals that she stumbled upon during her travels. Libby ended up at the vet’s office during one such occasion. She had found a decaying porcupine and made a buffet meal out of it. (Feel free to cringe here.)

A couple years later, we had our first skunk episode. It was late at night and my “Bibba” had run off again, though she was finally beginning to stay closer to home. My mom and I chased her onto the neighboring golf course carrying her favorite squeak toy, our newfound secret to retrieving a runaway lab. Libby heard it and came, sure enough. We smelled her long before she reached us. I can remember what a long night we spent trying to scrub her clean. I recently threw out the bandana she had been wearing that night. When I finally got the stench out of it, Libby wore it for a good 2-3 years until it was torn and ready to retire. Now I wish I still had it.

I can’t forget to mention the time Libby got ringworm. Where’d she get it? An unlikely source: ME. I’d pick it up at a neighbor’s house when I’d snuggled a new kitten they’d adopted from the SPCA. That was quite the experience. On top of that, we were trying to re-home my dog due to so many training issues. We already owned 2 labs and one had to go. Well, needless to say…you can’t exactly give a dog away with ringworm. That worked out in my favor.

We did end up giving her away at one point. We gave her to one of my riding instructors, but it broke my heart so bad that we got her back the following day. I don’t really understand why she had to go in the first place…other than the fact that she seemed impossible to train.

From there on out, I took over all training responsibilities. Libby was my dog, and I wasn’t going to lose her again just because she was such a handful. I kept her on a leash, filled my treats with pockets, and took her everywhere with me. Eventually the leash came off, and my dog turned into the most obedient dog of the three dogs we owned.

Then one day, I got a call while working a babysitting job. My dog had been hit in the road. But, it was okay…she’d just been grazed and she lived through it. She didn’t even need to go to the vet. I remember how scared I was for the brief moment that I thought I’d lost my dog. When Mom said, “She’s gonna be fine,” I almost cried. Maybe I did. The memory is a bit hazy.

On October 19th, my baby girl started vomiting. It wasn’t unusual for her to eat something strange and throw it up later, so I waited it out. After all, we live on a farm, and one thing I could never train her NOT to do was eat chicken crap and horse poop. (She was a dog, what can I say…) I thought this was probably the case. Then she started sleeping outside. Libby never slept unless she was in the house…for her to sleep outside was not like her. By evening, she was stumbling. Something was wrong.

My mom woke me early the next morning, around 6:30am. “I’m taking Libby to the vet. She’s not any better this morning.” I nodded and dozed back off. Three hours later, I got up and checked up on Libby’s status.

“There’s nothing they can do.”

No. Please, no. She was euthanized within that very hour. I hadn’t even said goodbye.

I don’t really know what happened to my girl. They said she must’ve eaten something toxic, and by the time she started showing symptoms, her kidneys were shutting down.

At this point, I can’t really put my emotions into words. The first week was very hard, probably one of the most difficult things I’ve ever experienced. I’ve never lost a person close to me, so this loss hit me hard. I am doing better, so please don’t worry. I started “dog shopping” only a few days after Libby’s death. I looked at a Labradoodle that was adorable, but not a good fit. Then I found a little black dog named Lexi, and she was the right one. She’s a lab/beagle mix that looks like a small version the dog that I lost. She’s not the same as Libby, of course, but she’s a lovable darling that I keep by my side at all times. On numerous occasions we’ve already found ourselves slipping up and calling her “Libby” by mistake. It will take time. But I am grateful that after the passing of an old friend, I can make a new one. Lexi is a reminder of how I am always moving forward, never back. Even as I type right now she is sleeping no more than two feet away from me. God is my comfort in hard times, and I am very blessed, regardless of the loss. He holds true to His promises.