Content

My Son Bay

I wrote this in 1995 when my 2 yr old died.

My son, Bayou-Wolf Verthandi, Bay for short, was a White German Shepherd. To me, he was all that I had in my life. I was completely centered on my son. I did not have any friends, just Bay. I could not have any children because my Kidney was going bad. My life with Bay was wonderful, he taught me so much. I was sexually abused as a child and teenager. Bay showed me unconditional love and trust. He changed my entire life.

Unfortunately, it was not to last. I came home from work one day, he greeted me as usual, but something was different. He felt very hot to the touch. I knew something was wrong, his eyes told me. So I took his temperature. It was 106* degrees. What could be happening to my son? I rushed him to the Vet and started IV fluids. The vet kept him at the hospital, this was hard for me because we had never been apart since I brought him home at the age of six weeks. I felt sure he would be home the next day because he had a fever like this one month previous, and was better after IV fluids. He was a beautiful dog and weighed 92 pounds.

I called the Vet the next day so that I could come and get him. The Vet told me that the fever would not go down and that Bay would have to stay. I asked to come and see him and the Vet said no. The Vet knew our strange bond and link together. He was afraid that the visit would upset Bay because he would not understand why he could not come home with me. He said that Bay had started to make a strange noise and wanted to know if that was normal. Bay talked a great deal, but this was different. The Vet held the phone up to Bay: it was strange indeed, Bay was moaning with every breath. It broke my heart to hear and not see.

The next day was a Sunday and the Vet called to ask if I wanted to watch Bay for the day since the Vet needed to go out of town for the day. I rushed immediately there, and it was quite a shock. My love was extremely gaunt and his eyes were dull. He was too weak to even get to the truck, so I carried him. Throughout the day I watched my best friend : he vomited blackish water and his stool was tar like and black. I realized he was actually bleeding to death. No position was comfortable for him.

That night when the Vet returned, I took my son back to the hospital. I hated what I saw; the IV's and all. We discussed emergency surgery for the next morning. Unfortunately, Bay was a bad candidate for surgery and it was possible that he would never wake up. Or they would find something horrible and have to back out and euthanize him right then. The Vet's wife was generous enough to lend me her beeper because I wanted to be there when surgery started Monday morning.

At about 9:00 am the beeper went off. I thought oh my God, they are going into surgery. I rushed to a telephone and called the Vet. The Doctor answered and I never even got to say a word. The Vet said, "Jennifer, Bay is dead." My knees buckled and I started screaming no. You see Bay was only 2 years and 7 months old.

I pulled myself together and told the Vet I would be right there. He said that there was no need to , that he would take care of everything. I said "No, he is my son and my only reason for living. It is my duty to bury him." Arriving at the Vet I saw my son lying on the floor. I rushed over and pulled him into my arms. I do not know how much time elapsed, people were talking but, I could not hear. I was totally void of my surroundings. The Vet said that they had tried CPR but blood began pouring out of his nose and ears. My baby could not be saved, the love of my life was dead and so was I.

I wrapped him in his blanket and put his favorite toy , a fleece Chewman, between his paws and closed those once expressive eyes forever. I drove twenty miles to a friends house and buried my son between two oak trees. I did not care about my job or the blood all over me. I did what I had to do: put to rest the only one I cared for and loved. I felt so empty and the tears never stopped. I
drove back home not caring about my job, I did not return to work that day. I do not even remember driving home. I called those who knew him and told them. Everyone was in disbelief because he was the picture of health three days previous. I was in shock.

Just four months earlier, I had euthanized my thirteen year old Dachshund, Wags, who was diabetic and his liver functions were failing. It seemed natural for him to fall asleep in my arms and all his pain would be gone. I was sad but comforted because I felt I had done right and put Wags, in God's arms.

Bay helped me get through the grieving of my oldest son. But now God has taken my son Bay away from me. What had I done to make God take away Bay: God, help me he was only 2 years old. I feel cheated, betrayed, and angry. I had already given one to God, why both, why my happiness. Everything I did was for Bay: my job, the house, and my existence. He was my life and now I am just an empty shell.

I overdosed several times. I worked 16 hour days because my son would not be home to greet me. I quit eating. On weekends I would overdose because two days in the house alone I could not handle and I hoped one of the overdoses would kill me. I could not handle the pain. It was like an elephant was sitting on my chest. My heart ached so much. My life was gone and my will to go on ceased. I relive that awful Monday every day. I would rather be dead so I can be with Bay.