In the late summer/early fall of 1999, I saw a puppy that one of Kendra's friend's had recently acquired. He was so cute and adorable that I had to get one of my own. So, my sister and I set out to the place they were selling these puppies...the Walmart parking lot in Sherman. They only had two left, a male and a female. I remember it vividly...the male was overly hyper and Mekka was just standing there, wagging her tail. They were tied to the bumper of a truck. We decided on the female. She vomited in the car on the way home, she was in the floorboard of the front passenger seat. I guess she got car sick or was just overwhelmed by the new surroundings/new people. Kendra and I went back to that SAME Walmart and bought a lot of stuff for her, including a new tag. We decided on the drive back to Sherman, to name her Mekka, after a character in a short lived animated show on MTV. I just liked the name Mekenna, and so it fit...Mekka Mekenna.I remember having to take her out at 5am while my dad was getting ready to go to work. I remember one morning, when my mom knocked on my door, Mekka was soooo protective that she stood on my bed and barked ferociously, then saw my mom open the door and urinated on my bed. This was probably because #1 she needed to go and wasn't let out soon enough and #2 she saw it was my mom.
Fast forward to November 1999, I was involved in a single car accident. By all accounts, I should've either died or been seriously injured but came out unscathed. That exact same night, Mekka began showing symptoms of Parvo. She spent a week in the hospital but recovered. I remember going to pick her up...she was, literally, "bitching" at me the whole way home.
Her "bitching" is a running theme throughout her life, she KNEW how to let us know she was upset and she was ALWAYS accommodated. If there is an art to manipulation, she was the master.
Years went by, my relationship with Mekka grew stronger and stronger. I can remember a time when I began to finally accept myself and had no idea how my family could possibly accept me for who I was/am. She was there. I would tell her that I knew she was my friend and that I knew she loved me unconditionally, she was on my side. She never let me down. She was always there.
(At this point, I just need to say that I KNOW this is a dog, but still)
I met someone, a person that I knew was meant to be. We decided to live together and I left her behind. I missed her, I even stayed overnight at my parent's house one night just for her. I knew I couldn't take her with me. She was a dog that was used to running free on 5 acres of land, living in a house...happy. I couldn't possibly remove her from that to live with me in a small apartment, regulated by a leash and collar. It just seemed cruel.
Days passed into months and months to years. She was always happy to see me. She "bitched" when I would come home. It quickly became apparent that she was getting older, but her tenacity for life was always at the forefront. At Thanksgiving dinner one year, we decided to give her a mild/safe sedative to allow her some form of "ability" to deal with all those people arriving at my parent's home. She didn't react well to that medication. She seized, her heart stopped. Fortunately for us, my aunt Christy, an RVT, was there. We applied compressions to her chest, she came back to us. After that day, she looked older...almost immediately. Mekka never would give up, she continued to provide companionship for a few years.
Mekka eventually succumbed to arthritis. She'd previously endured Wobbler's syndrome, but seemed to make a decent recovery. She became less and less able to walk normally. She was put on medications and seemed to adjust to it. She lost her friend Chase, our Australian Shepherd, on February 18th of this year. At that time, we thought Mekka was deteriorating exponentially...but the evidence left behind were actually those of Chase. After he passed away, she expressed her sadness, as witnessed by my parents. Mekka, wasn't doing as poorly as we thought however.
Days became only months. Almost 2 months, to the day, Mekka was ready to go. Well, I should say, her BODY was ready to go. My sister picked her up at my parent's home and brought her to DVSC. We all knew it was time, but that doesn't make it any easier. I sat with her this morning for a while, mostly trying to calm her down from being "Mekka" aka scared, "bitching". She could no longer walk or hold her bladder. She was a shadow of the dog we once knew...but she was STILL Mekka.
I thanked Mekka today for being there for me when I wasn't sure any one person could. I thanked her for being a best friend and I apologized for leaving her behind. I still feel guilty and will always. It was never my intention to leave her but I felt she would be more happy at my parent's home and WITH my parents...I think she was. She was, and will always be, a good pup. I dread going to my parent's home now, because I cannot imagine going there without hearing Mekka "bitch" at me and giving me that smile.
She's running around now, free of pain, with Chasey Boy and she's happy. I miss her though, always will.
**I thank my mom and dad for taking care of her in her last years. Without them, she would have given up a long time ago. I also have to thank my sister...Kendra was there at the last moment when I couldn't possibly bear it. Kendra was the last person to be with her and I think that's what Mekka would have wanted.
