Cleo is a German Shepherd dog who came to our lives in August of 2001 (one month after moving to our new house). She came from a loving home with farm animals and horses, and she had several male siblings. The male puppies played with us but they didn't stay long. There was another puppy around the corner, just peeking at us. When she finally came out to greet us, she played with us non-stop and never left our side. She picked us! That's how lucky we were. We were so excited to take her home, and knew that she will be a big part of our lives. I jokingly said that we would name the puppy Clifford or Cleo depending on the gender. Cleo's name somehow just stuck.
As a puppy, she was so easy to train. This poor puppy didn't know how to go downstairs. The kids coached her on how to go downstairs one paw at a time. She didn't like thunder. One day she hid under the bed, and my kids followed her. I took a picture of that precious moment. She hated firecrackers, and broke a leather leash to get near the exploding firecrackers to "attack" it. She didn't leave until it was over, and came back smelling like burnt hair. This is how I knew she would put herself in dangerous situations to "protect" us.
Cleo had been guarding our house, watching everybody from the upstairs window. She was a constant presence, her head moving side to side. She would be the first one you'd see if you looked up that window. Our neighbor who didn't recognize me asked if I lived in "the house with a german shepherd". It is funny how she was the popular one.
She hated school buses, and barked at them even when we were at a stoplight next to them. I kept reminding her that school buses take the kids in the morning, but always bring them back in the afternoon.
We always threw parties at our house, and Cleo could recognize our friends and did not bother them at all. She was known to be so calm, and you can actually forget that we have large dogs at home. She loved walks, and whenever there is nobody around, I allowed her to walk on her own. She walked with a predictable pace, and would stop at intersections to "ask" where we were turning. She knew our walk/run routine, and followed the same track everytime. One day she just stopped walking in the middle of a new trail. We knew it was a warning. When I walked close enough to her, I saw the big muddy area but the soil looked dry. We would have all stepped on it without the warning.
Cleo did not like drinking warm fountain water. We always brought a big jug of ice water and even a rolling cooler during hot summer afternoon trail adventures. She didn't like the dog pool at the dog parks. She was a diva, and stayed away from wet and muddy dogs. All she did was walk around the trail numerous times. She was not distracted by barking and playing around her. She just wanted to walk.
My best friend Helen witnessed how Cleo got up everytime I snored while sleeping on the couch, as if she was scanning my body head to toe. She did this repeatedly until I woke up. She was also good at emotional support. I would pretend to cry, and when Cleo heared the "sniffling", she would come running from wherever she was, and would start licking me as if trying to console me. She also loved to dance. Whenever I danced, she would sit in front of me, looking up as if she also wanted to dance.
She was a wonderful protector of the other dogs, too. My black labrador retriever named Mason is too friendly at the dog park, and I think he annoys some dogs in the process. One time several large dogs started growling at Mason, and Cleo rushed and positioned herself between them and Mason. Those large dogs walked away.
My kids learned to roller-blade using her leash. Cleo walked a little faster to pace with them. She kept up with the growing kids. She was their canine sister, after all. She likes to play ball. We lost every ball that touched the ground because she would bite them and make them her own.
She had a habit of hiding her toys and treats. We found tennis balls and dog treats under rocks, on pots, between sofa cushions, etc. When the black labrador came to our lives, it was hilarious how Mason would find the toys and treats... just to annoy Cleo. Mason was her canine friend, who showed her how to enjoy the dog pool, how to drink warm water, how to enjoy the mud, and how to dig in the backyard. Cleo has been less of a diva since. I saw how her "strict" protocols changed when Mason showed her the ways of a happy-go-lucky dog.
We had another addition to our pets with the arrival of a shih tzu last year. Her name is Oreo, and she also brings so much joy to the family. We noticed that Cleo would eat the little dog's poop. At first we thought something was wrong with her. We later learned that some dogs do this as part of survival instincts. They do not want other dogs/predators to trace their whereabouts or maybe Cleo didn't want Oreo to "get in trouble" with us. We love our dogs dearly and accepted the fact that the house will never stay perfectly clean. We chose this life, and will not have it any other way.
On December 16, 2010, I felt like my world came to an end. My beloved Cleo was diagnosed with cancer to the lung and liver. She did not appear sick until the day before. She was weak, but ate with very good appetite. One thing that caught my attention was that she started falling because of lameness of her front legs. Then she would go around the sofa several times. When she stopped, she would be still for a few minutes as if she forgot what she was doing. This was a very intelligent dog, and this behavior did not make any sense.
When I took her to the clinic the next day, I asked the vet if she was "close to dying". The vet denied this, and continued to examine and perform tests on her. CXR came back with the dreaded findings. I broke into tears, and knew there would be a dying loved one in my home during the holidays. The vet told me she had a few weeks.
We came home with a heavy heart. Richard carried her inside the house. I thought we could maybe take her out for a short walk one more time. She regained some energy when she heard the leash and "walk" together. Allan walked the dogs, and that was to be Cleo's last walk in the neighborhood. She walked slower, with her head down, and fell a few more times. That night, she managed to go upstairs, but couldn't come down anymore. I was in tears as we helped her down, one paw at a time... just like the first time.
From that day on, all my energy went to her. I didn't blink during the night and listened to every sound she made. I brought her food and water every one to two hours. She got belly rubs and back rubs frequently. I photographed and videotaped her snoring, eating, drinking, barking, and looking around.
She gave us another ten precious days of her life. She received the best care our family could offer. She was the most comfortable as she could ever be. When she stopped eating on her own, I hand-fed her with her favorite food and dessert. Then she became too weak to chew. We fed her using a small syringe, making sure we are giving her enough calories for her battle with cancer. She started eating and drinking again, resulting in frequent soiling. We kept her dry and clean, with a lot of help from my husband and four teenagers.
She was never unattended, and the whole family took turns staying up all night to take care of all her needs. When she was turned to the side, she never faced an empty wall. Her cart/bed was also turned to make sure that she can see us and feel our presence. During the night, she was rolled into the family room while somebody slept on the couch. During the day, she would be in the kitchen area to be in our midst. As the weather permits, we would roll her cart/bed out in the backyard, and let her experience the sights and sounds one more time.
When Mason would see her in the backyard, he always got so excited, thinking that Cleo was ready to play with him. It was a bittersweet sight that a canine friend acts very cheerful around his dying friend, maybe trying to appear normal around her. He knew, because he had "cleaned" her face so many times.
Christmas came and went. I was so relieved that we did not have to make any decision yet. It was a dampened celebration, but we made the most of it. Cleo did not look any sicker or any weaker, and I thought that she would last a few more days. My family said that she stopped swallowing food at around 10 PM on Christmas day, and I got the dreaded phone call the next morning while I was at work. My colleagues were also in tears upon hearing the terrible but expected news. I went home early that morning, and was sobbing all the way home.
Cleo looked very peaceful, beautiful as ever. She was laying on a clean bed, covered by a light blue blanket with the word "Angel" and wings drawn all over it. I thought that was the most appropriate blanket for her. We said our final goodbyes, and thanked her for our nine and a half years together. If our love alone could save her, she never would have died.
Her eyes never gave up, so I couldn't. She looked around, stared, and wagged her tail slowly until the end. She left in her own time and in her own terms. And waited until after Christmas... because that's how she was.
The cart we used as her bed reminded me of her. And it was really hard to look at the empty cart so we parked it where space allowed... in front of the Christmas tree. That wasn't any easier.
I was fortunate to have the benefit of "knowing" what was to come, and had numerous opportunities to document her last days with pictures and videos. Now, I watch them with tears in my eyes. She will always be in my heart and in my thoughts. And I will never forget the way she looked, moved, or sounded like. Those moments were all immortalized for me and the next generations to come.
Missing Cleo terribly,
Arlene Araneta and family