Raja's STORY
Raja was a black afghan hound. A friend at work had unceremoniously led this mangy-looking, matted, tall, malnourished, stray to the back seat of my white Sunbird one afternoon pleading that I “just keep him for one night.” A few hundred just-one-nights later Raja had wormed his way into my world and the center of my life. Only I could see that his often stand-offish demeanor was simply his nervous reaction to a world he couldn’t, for some long-forgotten reason, trust. But I could see the unconditional love in him and he in turn forced that out of me.
Eight years and thousands of wonderful moments later Raja could no longer walk. He suffered from hip dysplasia. My then husband and I were reduced to walking him outside with a towel looped under his belly. We’d patiently wait for him to do his business and then walk him back to the house where he plopped to the floor, exhausted and frustrated, for the rest of the day. Sadly, we both knew his time had come, but neither of us could take any steps to end his life. We both hoped and prayed that Raja would simply go to sleep and never wake up. We weren’t to be so lucky. On a sunny Saturday in October we drove Raja to the vet’s office for the last time. My husband quickly returned to the car, unable to stay for the inevitable. I held Raja as he lay shivering from fright on the floor of the exam room, his usual reaction to a visit to the vet. Dr. Krick ever so gently injected Raja’s right front leg, as I kept whispering to him, “Mommy’s here. Mommy’s here.” It was only moments until Raja’s head quietly sagged in my arms for the last time. As long as I live I’ll never forget that scene or my gut-wrenching sorrow at that moment.
Raja’s story is not unlike so many others. A mangy, unwanted animal ends up in our life and we are helpless to do anything but love it with all of our heart and soul. Raja landed in my world just before I moved into my first apartment. Many times it felt like it was me and him against the world. I had very little money and even less furniture, but I had someone to share my new adventure. My fear of trying to make my way on my own quickly subsided when Raja needed to be walked or fed or bathed or taken to the vet. It’s funny how responsibility for someone else’s wellbeing can overshadow our own and what at first seems a burden becomes a blessing. Raja was that to me – a blessing. I’m forever thankful for that coworker who ignored my protests and brought Raja into my life.
Eight years and thousands of wonderful moments later Raja could no longer walk. He suffered from hip dysplasia. My then husband and I were reduced to walking him outside with a towel looped under his belly. We’d patiently wait for him to do his business and then walk him back to the house where he plopped to the floor, exhausted and frustrated, for the rest of the day. Sadly, we both knew his time had come, but neither of us could take any steps to end his life. We both hoped and prayed that Raja would simply go to sleep and never wake up. We weren’t to be so lucky. On a sunny Saturday in October we drove Raja to the vet’s office for the last time. My husband quickly returned to the car, unable to stay for the inevitable. I held Raja as he lay shivering from fright on the floor of the exam room, his usual reaction to a visit to the vet. Dr. Krick ever so gently injected Raja’s right front leg, as I kept whispering to him, “Mommy’s here. Mommy’s here.” It was only moments until Raja’s head quietly sagged in my arms for the last time. As long as I live I’ll never forget that scene or my gut-wrenching sorrow at that moment.
Raja’s story is not unlike so many others. A mangy, unwanted animal ends up in our life and we are helpless to do anything but love it with all of our heart and soul. Raja landed in my world just before I moved into my first apartment. Many times it felt like it was me and him against the world. I had very little money and even less furniture, but I had someone to share my new adventure. My fear of trying to make my way on my own quickly subsided when Raja needed to be walked or fed or bathed or taken to the vet. It’s funny how responsibility for someone else’s wellbeing can overshadow our own and what at first seems a burden becomes a blessing. Raja was that to me – a blessing. I’m forever thankful for that coworker who ignored my protests and brought Raja into my life.