I'll Miss You Forever

This will likely be the most difficult post I'll ever try to write.

As I sit here... with tears streaming down my face... I'm not sure if I can do it.
I don't have the words I need.
I don't have the strength I need.

Because...
Right now...
At this moment...
I'm more broken than I've ever been.

Regardless...
I'm going to try anyway...

With a shattered heart... I share the following news:
I had to send another rescue dog to Heaven.

That's right.
I lost two of my children... in one week.
I don't have words...
I'm beyond devastated...

However, despite my pain, each of my dogs deserves to be honored with a special "In Loving Memory" post, written just for them.

Especially... this particular dog... 
She's been my baby... for one full year now.

Heidi & I

So... here goes...

This one's for you, Heidi...

On April 27, 2011, Heidi survived the devastating F5 tornado that ripped through the city of Tuscaloosa, Alabama. She managed to survive that storm... alone... outside... on a chain.

Heidi had lived on that short chain... all 10 years of her life.
She was never able to walk.
She was never able to run.
She was never able to play.

For 10 long years of her life... Heidi never lived.

In addition, she'd been forced to endure many other forms of unimaginable torture. When she was younger, her owners made the cruel decision to "crop" Heidi's ears themselves... with scissors or a knife. She'd also been neglected, abused, under-fed, and over-bred... all 10 years of her life. 

Honestly... Heidi lived one of the saddest existences I could ever imagine.

Following the storm, Heidi was rescued from one of the hardest-hit areas.
Her home was completely destroyed...
Everything was gone...
Everything... but Heidi.

Shortly thereafter, Heidi came to live with me.
For the last year... this has been her home,
and I have been her mom.

For one full year...
I was lucky enough to spend all day, every day... with my Heidi.
It was one of the greatest joys of my life... because Heidi was one of the greatest loves of my life.

When I made the decision to save Heidi last year, I knew that her chances of adoption were slim. A 10-year old, formerly-chained, severely over-bred, Pit Bull, with no ears...
She barely stood a chance...

However... after 10 years of unimaginable torture... Heidi deserved to know love. 
And... it just so happens... I've got a ton of love to give... and so did Heidi.
We were a perfect match.

For me, it didn't really matter whether or not Heidi would ever be "officially" adopted...
Because... last year, at the moment I saved her... I'd "unofficially" adopted Heidi myself.

That day, I looked into her eyes, and made the following promise: "You're home now, baby girl. And from now on --no matter what else happens-- you and me... are family. If it comes down to it, you can live out the rest of your days here with me... and I'll love you every second. I promise."

Heidi took me up on my offer. She spent the last year of her life... and the best days of her life... here with me. It was the best year ever.

Heidi brought more joy into my life than I could ever put into words. She had the kind of smile that could light up my whole world. She had this beautiful energy that could push me forward. She gave the kind of love that could set my heart on fire.

Every day of the past year, Heidi has shared that love with me. And every day of the past year... she finally got to hear, "I love you, back."

However... from a health standpoint, Heidi had plenty of issues.
So, this past year, I made sure that Heidi received every bit of vet care she needed, every time she needed it. 

Yet... that was just 1 year...
Out of the 11 years she'd been alive.
For the first 10, she got nothing she needed, every time she needed it.

And eventually, those 10 years of neglect... finally caught up with her.

Honestly...
Right now... 
My heart is just too broken to list all of the ailments that would bring me to the painstaking decision... to end Heidi's suffering.
And really... at this point... those specifics don't really matter.

In short, Heidi was old; she was sick, and she was tired.
She needed me to help her go...
And that's honestly all that matters.

Basically... this week, I realized what Heidi needed from me.
Even still, it was almost too much to bear.
I was still grieving for my Delilah, and now... I was going to lose my Heidi, too.

Delilah was here for a month...
And yet... the pain of her loss was almost enough to break me.
Heidi was here for a year... so...
I couldn't even imagine...

Sure... I could've waited... and said: Sorry Heidi. I know you're suffering, but I just can't handle this right now.
But honestly... no matter how much pain I was in... I could never do that to Heidi.

After she'd shared the best year of her life with me...
I owed her that much... and she deserved that much.

So... I called the vet, and made yet-another appointment. I sobbed uncontrollably... as I told them it was for Heidi. Of course, they already knew the reason behind it. They knew that it was time.

Heidi's last day, at the lake

Then, I asked Caycee to help me make Heidi's last day on Earth... everything she deserved for it to be...

We took Heidi down to the lake... to let her play as much as her little heart could stand. When we got there, Heidi's excitement was contagious. And even with my shattered heart... I felt an insane-amount of joy. 

As Heidi stepped into the water, she looked back at me... with this massive smile on her face. Then--without another thought-- I jumped right in with her... fully-clothed in my t-shirt and shorts. Heidi thought that was pretty funny of me.

That day...
We walked. We swam. We splashed.
We played. We smiled. We laughed.
We talked. We hugged. We loved.
That day... we truly lived.

In those moments there with Heidi... I almost... almost... allowed myself to forget ...
That it was the last day we'd ever spend together.

For the rest of my life... I'll cherish every second of that day with her... along with every minute of this year with her. Loving Heidi... was the honor of my lifetime.

Soon... when Heidi got tired of playing, we headed back to Lucky Dog.

Suddenly... reality set in. Our day of fun was over... which meant... Heidi's life was almost over, too. I just couldn't believe it... the pain was simply unbearable...

Then, Caycee offered to dig a grave for Heidi in the Lucky Dog pet cemetery.
I said, "Wait, I'll come help you." ... but she refused:
"No, Ash. Please let me do this for you."

So, as Caycee left for grave digging, I walked inside, sat on the floor, and sobbed... as quietly as I could.
I didn't want Heidi to hear me.

When Caycee had been digging for at least an hour... the thunderstorm hit.
Suddenly, it was pouring... harder than it's ever poured before.

I ran outside, looked out in the distance, and saw Caycee... drenched from head-to-toe... and still digging.
I called out to her: "Caycee! Please stop digging and come inside!"
She yelled back: "No! I'm okay!"

I stood there for a second... 
In amazement...
And in agony...
As the image of my best friend...
Out there digging my baby's grave...
In the pouring rain... 
Slowly burned into my memory...
Forever.

Caycee is such an incredible friend to me. She only refused to let me help her... because she didn't want me to dig the very-grave... where I'd soon bury my own child. She wanted to take that pain from me, and she'd wanted to do something special for Heidi.

Regardless... I wasn't leaving her out there alone, any longer.

So... I ran out into the storm... to go help my friend.

That's when I saw her... head hung low... walking back... through the rain. 
She was completely soaked... so it took me a minute to realize... that Caycee was sobbing.

She said: "Heidi's grave is filling-up with water! I tried to get it out, but it just keeps coming in! I don't want to put her in there like that! I don't want to do that to Heidi!"
The tears welled-up in my eyes, as I said: "I'm so sorry. We'll fix it. I promise."

Then... we stood there... hugging and sobbing... in the pouring rain.

When the time came, we loaded Heidi into the car, and headed to the vet.
With the rain beating down on my windshield... and the tears filling my eyes... I almost couldn't see the road.
Caycee said: "Okay, pull over. I'm driving."
I wiped my eyes, and said: "No. I need to do this. Plus, we're almost there."

When we pulled up at the clinic, I laid my head on the steering wheel, and sobbed.

I looked over at Caycee, with tears running down my cheeks, and said:

"I don't think I can do this..."

She tearfully said: "I'll be there with you."

I cried: "But... this is Heidi! How can I say goodbye to Heidi?? It's just... I love her so much."

She replied: "Heidi knows that, and she loves you so much, too."

That's when I realized...
I had to do this...
I had to say goodbye...
because it was the right thing to do...
For Heidi. 

So, I wiped my tears, opened the door, and stepped out into the rain.
Then... Caycee and I took Heidi inside... for the last time.

As I headed toward the exam room, the vet tech was waiting with a box of tissues, and quietly said: "I'm so sorry, Ash."
I mustered the words: "Thank you."

In the room, Caycee and I waited for Doc to come in.
Meanwhile, I sat on the floor with Heidi, and she gently laid her head on my shoulder.

Tears rolled down my cheeks, as I choked out the words:
"It was a good year, baby girl...
And you were a damn-good dog."

When Doc walked in... he already knew:
It was time.
As we lifted Heidi onto the table, I said:
"I'm right here, Heidi-Boo. It's okay."
Those words seemed to make it better...
For her, at least.

Then...
For the second time this week...
Doc picked up the syringe...looked at me... and asked:
"Are you ready?"

So... I leaned down, and gave my Heidi one last hug... one last kiss... and whispered one last "I love you."

Then, I looked at Doc...
And simply nodded.

In those final moments...
I looked down at Heidi... she looked up at me...
And our love for each other... was so damn real...
It was almost tangible.

My last day with Heidi

Then...
I watched her eyes glaze over...
And felt her heart stop beating...
As she took her final breath.

Just like that... I knew:
Heidi is in Heaven now.

That's when Doc stepped outside of the room, to give us a minute alone with her.
I laid my head on her chest... and sobbed uncontrollably...
As I realized that this was the very last time...
I'd ever see my Heidi. 
Heidi was gone forever.

Shortly thereafter, Doc carried Heidi to my car. 
Her body was wrapped in bags... and baby blankets.

And once again... I lost it.
I couldn't talk; I couldn't see; I couldn't breathe.
I felt broken. I felt empty. I felt... dead.

At this point, it was still pouring outside.
So, Caycee drove us home, while I curled up in the passenger seat, and bawled like a baby.

Then, Caycee broke the silence, simply saying: "I have so much respect for you today. You are so strong, Ash."
In a tiny voice... that didn't sound quite like my own... I replied: "I don't feel so strong, Caycee..."
She said: "I know you don't, but you are."

When we pulled up at Lucky Dog, Caycee parked near the cemetery, and said:
"Wait here. I'll be right back."

I knew what she was doing. She was checking Heidi's grave for standing-water, and she didn't want me to see. But luckily, it had all been absorbed by the earth.

And yet...
Unluckily...

That meant...
It was time.

I stepped out into the rain... 
And walked the heartbreaking path...
Toward Heidi's grave.

A few minutes later... we laid Heidi in the ground.

Seeing her down there... I could barely contain myself.
I was bawling... I was shaking... I was weak.
I wanted to crawl in with her...

Then... Caycee picked up the shovel... looked at me, and said: "I'll go slow, okay?"
I nodded: "Okay. Thank you."

As she gently placed the first pile of dirt on top of Heidi's body...
Once again... I lost it. I wanted to scream: "No!!! Please! Stop! That's my baby in there!!!"

In that moment...
The rain was pouring down...
My tears were streaming down...
My Heidi was in the ground...
And my world was crumbling around me.

It's a moment that I'll always remember... no matter how much I'd like to forget it. 
It's the moment when I realized...
That my Heidi was gone forever.
She's never coming back.

And then...
When Caycee was finally done...

There was a mound of dirt...
Where my Heidi used to be.

Afterward... for a while... Caycee and I just stood there... in the rain... in silence.
I didn't have the words...
She didn't have the words...
There were no words left to say...

At some point, I looked at Caycee, and said: "I couldn't have gotten through today without you."
She replied: "I know... and I wouldn't have let you."

Then...
For the second time that day...
Caycee and I stood outside...
Hugging and sobbing...
In the pouring rain...

Honestly... at that point... it's all we knew how to do.

Afterward... we turned... together... and walked back... through the rain...
Leaving my Heidi behind...

Later that night...
I walked back to my little pet cemetery...
Alone. 
It was dark... and quiet... and peaceful.

I sat on the ground, in silence.
I looked at the stars.
I picked at the grass.
I stared at Heidi's grave.

I guess I just wanted to feel close to her.

As the tears ran down my face...
I didn't try to wipe them.
I just let them fall.

In that moment...
As I sat there next my precious baby...
I really wanted to say something...
Something meaningful...
Something respectful...
Something special.

I guess I just wanted to talk to Heidi...
As I'd done every single day...
For the past year...

And for once...
Just this one time...
I kinda wanted her... to talk back to me.

Even still...
I couldn't find the words...
And she couldn't say the words.

Because I was empty...
And she was gone.

Then... it hit me...
And suddenly... I understood...
The weight of tomorrow's reality...

Tomorrow...
For the first time in a year...
I'll go to work...
And Heidi won't be there.

I'll pass by her kennel...
Kennel #25...
All day long... 
But she'll never be there to greet me.

And from now on...
Each time I want to sit next to her...
I'll have no choice, but to visit...
This heartbreaking mound of dirt...

In that moment...
As I searched for the words to say goodbye...
I had nothing.

I wasn't ready to say goodbye...
Or even to admit...
that my Heidi was really gone.


And yet...
I felt the need...
To say something.

So...
I simply said:
"I'll miss you forever."

With that...
I stood up...
Blew a kiss to the sky...
And walked away.

Knowing in my heart...
That nothing here at Lucky Dog...
Will ever be the same...

*If you'd like to donate in memory of my Heidi, please click below:

CLICK TO DONATE TO LUCKY DOG RESCUE

Goodbye, Delilah

*A follow-up to my previous post: Hey There, Delilah: http://luckydogrescueblog.blogspot.com/2012/05/hey-there-delilah.html

Today --Wednesday, May 9, 2012-- my Delilah went to Heaven.
She left the world in peace.
She left the world with love.

However... Monday was actually meant to be her last day on Earth.
I'd made a promise to her that it would be.
It was a decision I'd made... for her.

Yet... when Monday morning came, Delilah was doing a little bit better.
Not a lot better... but a little better.
And I'll be honest... it was just enough to give me a glimmer of false hope.

That morning, I took her to the vet for her follow-up appointment.
I told my vet what I was prepared to do for Delilah that day...
But first... I asked for his honest opinion.

Doc looked at her...
Then at me...
And said: "She's still got a little fight left in her, and I know how you are, Ashley. You want to give her every possible chance to make it, and you'll never forgive yourself if you don't. So, let's just give her a couple more days, and see how she does. If nothing else... she'll have a little more time with you."

Hearing those words, I have to be honest with you...
I felt a sense of selfish relief.
I'd always wanted to save her... I'd never wanted to end her life...

So... even though I knew better... I chose to see what I wanted to see in her.
Instead of the sick little girl that laid before me...
I saw a tiny fighter... who deserved the chance to fight.

Delilah & I

I didn't want to take that chance away from her.
I didn't want to give-up too soon.
I didn't want to believe that she couldn't pull through this.

But really...
If I'm being honest...
I just didn't want to let her go.

So... I rejected my gut instincts...
I abandoned my promises...
And I allowed myself to feel a sense of hope... that never really existed.



And so...  that day...
I took my Delilah home...
One more time...

Sure... for a little while... Delilah seemed a little stronger.
She seemed a little healthier.
She seemed a little happier.

Of course... that was never her reality.
She wasn't strong, or healthy, or happy.
And honestly... she wasn't even fighting for her...

She was fighting... for me.

She was smiling... for me.
She was stronger... for me.
She was living... for me.

Initially, I was blinded by hope...
Her "strength" gave me strength.
Her "fight" ignited my own fight.

But... in reality, my Delilah had all-but given up.
She didn't want to hurt anymore.
She didn't want to fight any longer.

And yet... she couldn't let go...
Not because she wasn't ready...
But because I wasn't ready. 

The truth is: She needed me, and I failed her.
I made a promise to her... and I broke it.
Not because I didn't love her... but simply because... I did.

Regardless, it was selfish of me.
It was wrong of me.
It was the wrong decision... for her.

And yesterday... I had to face reality...
Because any "fight" I'd seen in Delilah the day before...
Was gone.

Suddenly, I couldn't deny the truth: Delilah was never doing better...
She was never going to make it.
She had never rejoined the fight.

I'd only seen what I wanted to see.
I'd clung to a hope that just didn't exist.
I'd attempted to fight... because I'd wished to save us both.

And yet... I saved neither.
Delilah is gone...
And she took my heart with her.

But even still... before she left this earth...
Delilah's one wish in life... finally came true:
She was loved.

At the very least... I did something right...

Last night... on her last night here, 
I lifted Delilah into my bed...
And pulled her close to me under the covers...

Then...
Just before she fell asleep...
I whispered into her ear:

"Hey there, Delilah
I'm right here if you get lonely...
Close your eyes...
I'm by your side."

Then, this morning, I drove Delilah to the vet.
When Doc walked into the room...
He looked sick... when he saw my tear-stained face.

I nodded. He nodded.
It was our signal:
It's time.

I wiped my tears... and laid Delilah on the table.
Then, Doc looked at me, and asked: "Are you ready?"
 I replied: "Almost."

I leaned down... one last time...
And whispered into Delilah's ear:
"Remember: when you get there, ask for Rudy. He knows me."

Then, I said: "Okay. I'm ready."
I looked down at Delilah... she looked up at me...
I smiled... she smiled...

And just like that...
She was gone...

Today... for the very last time...
I took my Delilah home...
Forever.

When I pulled back up at Lucky Dog... 
I saw Caycee digging Delilah's grave...
And my heart could barely take it.

As I got out of the car... I was sobbing uncontrollably.
That's when Caycee walked over...
And gave me the biggest hug... that 2 best friends have ever shared.

Then... we laid Delilah to rest.

Today... I honored my promise to her.
Today... her suffering ended.
Today... my Delilah went to Heaven.

Today... Delilah's pain is over.
And yet... it seems for me...
That the pain has just begun...

But even still...
In my heart... I know the truth:
Every bit of pain was worth it... for each moment here with you...

"Hey there, Delilah... You know it's all because of you... This one's for you..."

*If you'd like to donate in memory of my Delilah, please click below:

CLICK TO DONATE TO LUCKY DOG RESCUE

RIP Mister Kitty

My name is Mister Kitty.

I went to Heaven last night.

I'm not here to share the story of my death.
I'm here to share the story of my life...

In my few short months here on Earth, I was so proud to be the Lucky Dog Rescue kitty. I was the only kitty there, which made me the luckiest kitty in the whole wide world.  

But early on... I didn't feel so "lucky."

When I was just a tiny baby kitten, I was dumped on the Lucky Dog property by some not-so-nice people. They threw me out of their car and drove away real fast... without me. It was the meanest thing that's ever happened to me, and I was just so scared to be alone in the dark.

After that happened, I knew I couldn't trust people much... so I hid out in the bushes, hoping that no one would find me...

But even though I tried to pick the very best hiding spot, it didn't take long for someone to find me. Her name was Miss Ashley. The day after I was dumped, she was walking this big ole dog right past me, when she spotted me hiding there in the bushes. She stopped, smiled, and said, "Well hello there, Mister Kitty."

But I wouldn't dare come out for her. No way! I was just too scared. So... I felt pretty relieved when Miss Ashley walked away from me. But then, a couple of minutes later, she came right back, with 2 bowls: one food, one water.

Each day, Miss Ashley would come back to my secret hiding spot, with more food and more water. She'd never force me to come out of the bushes, but I could tell that she really wanted me to.

Even though she was so nice to me, I still didn't trust her. But if I'm being honest... I felt some comfort in the words she'd always say: "Maybe you don't like me, Mister Kitty, but I sure do love you. Maybe one day you'll love me, too."

I guess now would be a good time to tell you... that I'm actually A GIRL KITTY... NOT a Mister Kitty. But since I'd never come out of those bushes to let Miss Ashley get a good look at me... it took her a while to realize that I was really a girl. But either way, I kinda liked that name: Mister Kitty. I'm a tough little kitty... so the name felt right, and it stuck. 

Over time, I got a little more brave, and I started to follow Miss Ashley around the property. I didn't know why... but I really wanted to love her as much as she loved me. She never forced herself on me, and I think that's why I liked her. She slowly gained my trust, and soon... she stole my heart. 

But it took me a while to realize... that I'd stolen her heart, too.

Missy & Mister Kitty

One day, I was being my silly kitty self, and I climbed right up a real big tree. While I was up there, on top of the world, my leg got stuck between the branches, and I couldn't get back down. I was up there for a real long time, and I was so scared that Miss Ashley would never find me.

Finally, I heard her calling, "Mister Kitty?!" from real far away. So, I let out the loudest meow I could muster, hoping it would help her find me. Then, she came running toward me, looking up in the trees, until her eyes found mine. And do you know what she did?? Miss Ashley climbed right up to the top of that tree... freed my leg, secured me in her arms, and brought me back down to safety.

That's when I knew that Miss Ashley would always be there for me, and finally... I knew that I was home...

Being a kitty who lived at Lucky Dog Rescue, I soon decided that I wanted to be a dog instead. I quickly learned which dogs liked me... and which dogs didn't. I had the best time of my life living as a "Lucky Dog."

But yesterday, I got hurt, and I cried out for Miss Ashley. She ran to me, scooped me up, and rushed me to the vet just as fast as she could. My body was going into shock, and I was so scared. I could tell that Miss Ashley was real scared, too, but she didn't want to show it.

In the car, my Ashley-Mom was crying. As she gently rubbed my head, she was pleading with me, "Please, Mister Kitty... just hold on for me. I'm right here, and we're gonna get you all better. Please, just stay with me."

I wanted to stay with her forever, but I knew in my heart that I wasn't going to make it. But Miss Ashley didn't know that yet... or she just refused to believe it, because she wasn't ready to let me go.

When we got there, Miss Ashley was sobbing as she talked to the vet. Then... she looked at me, and gave me one last hug, one last kiss, and one last "I love you." That's how I knew it was okay to go.

I left my Ashley-Mom for Heaven on November 20, 2011.

Today, my Ashley-Mom and Miss Caycee buried me at Lucky Dog Rescue. As Miss Caycee covered my body with dirt, Miss Ashley sat on the ground next to me, and sobbed. She didn't know that I could see her, but I was right there with her the whole time. I've always been right there with her... since my very first day here... and I'll never really be gone...

When she gets to Heaven, my Ashley-Mom hopes to see a long line of dogs waiting to greet her. But now... a kitty will be waiting there too. A Mister Kitty, the Lucky Dog kitty.

*Dear Mister Kitty, my heart is so broken today. For months now, you've been right here by my side... my constant companion. I hope you know just how amazing it was for me... as you learned to trust me... to love me. It was nothing short of incredible. I save dogs for a living, but you were the kitty who stole my heart, in a way I didn't know was possible. I hope you know just how much I love you, and just how much I miss you. Now, there's a huge hole here at Lucky Dog... where you used to be. And there's a Mister-Kitty-sized-hole... in my heart. Love, Mom

A Gift From God

*If you haven’t read Annie’s story, CLICK HERE to read: Before You Go to Heaven

The following blog post is Part 3 of my special anniversary tribute to Rudy.
CLICK HERE to read Part 1!
CLICK HERE to read Part 2!

For my birthday last year, I ordered a special memorial for my Rudy garden, a small statue of a dog with angel wings. On July 21, 2010, the package arrived, and I lovingly placed the memorial on Rudy’s grave. Then, I let my foster dog Pepsi out to play in the yard, and walked inside.

Pepsi was devastated by Rudy’s death, so she spent most of her time mourning by his grave. Well… apparently, that day, Pepsi decided to take a stab at eating concrete statues. Within 30 minutes, she’d chewed most of the paint and some of the concrete from my special Rudy memorial.

When I went to let Pepsi inside, I found the gnawed statue lying on the doorstep. In total disbelief, I picked it up, examined the damage, and said, “You have GOT to be kidding me! Pepsi!!! Concrete?!” Then, I quickly checked her mouth for broken teeth and her throat for any debris. She was fine. The statue… not so much.

Saddened and super-embarrassed, I sent a message to the Etsy seller who made the statue, Mary Ferguson of PhenomeGNOME. The message said:

Mary, I received my statue today, and I love it! It’s perfect! Well… it was. I’m pretty embarrassed to tell you what happened. Rudy’s best friend, my foster dog Pepsi, hasn’t been handling Rudy’s death very well. So, I guess she decided to take it out on my statue today. Thirty minutes after I placed the memorial in Rudy’s garden, I found it by the door. And it was… um… missing some paint, and some… um… concrete. Yes, that’s right. Concrete. Pepsi chewed on a concrete statue.

Sadly, I can’t afford to buy another right now. But I think touching-up the paint may hide some of the teeth marks on the concrete. (There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.) So anyway, I was wondering if you could tell me what color and type of paint I could use to do touch ups? I know you’re busy, and this isn’t your problem, I just hate to put the chewed-up memorial back by Rudy’s grave. I want it to be special for him. Let me know. And thank you, by the way. Your work is amazing. -Ashley

Pepsi, the culprit

Mary was so gracious and funny about the whole thing. She asked if I could send some photos of the damage so she could determine the best way to fix it. I sent pictures with a message that said: “Welcome to my crazy life!” Mary’s response to the photos made me laugh: “OMG Ashley! She really chomped away at it, didn’t she?!”

Then, Mary generously offered to send me the paint to touch-up the statue, and I offered to pay for shipping. She mailed that package on July 30^th and sent me the shipping confirmation. When I tried to send reimbursement, Mary simply said, “Consider it my gift to you. It’s been a pleasure.”

Now, keep in mind-- Mary and I were total strangers at this point. Our interactions had been limited to my initial online purchase and the messaging back-and-forth about Pepsi’s destructive chewing. So, this woman honestly owed me nothing. But that little gesture on her behalf touched me in a way that brought tears to my eyes… and hope to my heart. And honestly, at the time, that was everything to me.

After that, my life got pretty crazy, and my brain wasn’t always functioning at full capacity. A month or so passed, and one day, I suddenly realized that I’d never received the paint. I contacted Mary, and she was shocked to hear that it hadn’t arrived. She re-sent the tracking number, and I checked the status, which said: In-transit. Since Mary didn’t want me to wait any longer, she generously offered to send me another package of paint.

Here’s where it gets good:

When Mary sent that second package, neither of us had any way of knowing that I was about to take-in a special dog named Annie, who would soon leave me for Heaven. So it was ironic that Mary’s package arrived on September 14, 2010… the day Annie died.

That day was incredibly painful for me. While Annie was in my home, I refused to expose her to any sadness. So, the day she died, the walls surrounding my pain finally collapsed.

As I drove home with Annie’s dead body in my backseat, the floodgates opened… and the pain in my heart poured down my face as teardrops. For the first time, I allowed myself to feel the despair I’d held inside since my very first day with Annie. I sobbed uncontrollably… for Annie… for Rudy… and for me. I asked God why He thought I could handle so much… why I was forced to let go of another baby so soon after losing Rudy. It was just unbearable.

Suddenly... I could feel the change taking place within myself. That devastating pain was back in my life… the despair I’d fought so hard to overcome after Rudy’s death. At that moment, I could feel all of the hope slipping from my heart, and honestly, I was ready to give up.

I pulled into my driveway, took a deep breath, and prepared to bury yet another dog. I couldn’t believe it… I was back here once again. But this time, there was no denying the truth: it was real; it was happening; and it was time. I got out, unloaded Annie, and chose a spot right next to Rudy. As I laid her in the ground, I fought back the tears, the pain, and the anger I’d been avoiding for days... and really, since Rudy died.

After I covered her body, I stood there in silence. Then… with the realization that yet another piece of my heart was resting beneath the Earth, I surrendered and walked inside.

That’s when I spotted a package on the counter. The label said, Shipped by: Mary Ferguson. In an attempt to distract my broken heart, I decided to go ahead and open it. I wiped the tears from my eyes, peeled back the tape, and opened the box.

And then… my heart stopped…

There are moments in life where God proves His existence, His compassion, and His mercy. In all my life, I have never known a moment quite like this one.

Because Mary’s package contained more than just touch-up paint. I reached inside to find a brand new memorial statue for Rudy’s grave… and something else. A second memorial piece… shaped like a heart… with a paw print in the middle.

Chills ran down my spine and tears filled my eyes… knowing that this moment was truly beyond all coincidence. My hands were shaking as I opened Mary’s note:

Ashley- I thought both you & Rudy deserved much better than a chewed-up statue, so I sent you another. I also made a second piece just for you. I’m not sure if you have somewhere to put it, but hopefully you can find a place. You have a big heart Ashley -- I can feel it through our communication -- and that heart should be rewarded with more than I can ever give you. -Mary

Suddenly, tears were streaming down my face, as this woman—a complete stranger—had just managed to touch my heart more than anyone else ever had. I was truly speechless, shocked, and awestruck. In that moment, I could feel a divine love surrounding me… a power that was larger than Mary, or myself, and both of us combined.

Because, in truth, Annie didn’t enter my life until after the package was shipped, so Mary had no way of knowing that I would actually need a second memorial, or that it would arrive on the very day I needed it. But through her generosity, I now had the perfect way to honor Annie’s grave, as well as Rudy’s. It was an unbelievable gift.

But, there’s more:

The original package was never delivered to my home, and it was never returned to Mary. We only have the confirmation that it was shipped to my address.

The last time I’d checked the status on that first shipment, was the day before the second package arrived. And, as always, it said: In Transit. So, when the second shipment finally got here, my curiosity got the best of me, and I decided to check the status on that first package one last time…

When I entered the tracking number of the original shipment and hit Submit, I read: There is no record of this item.  In disbelief, I rechecked and reentered the information again, with the same result: There is no record of this item. I felt chills all over my body, sensing the power of those events we can’t quite explain. Because… for more than a month, that status had read: In Transit. Then, upon the arrival of an unrelated shipment, there was suddenly no record that the first package had ever existed:  There is no record of this item.

I have no idea what happened to that package, but I know one thing for sure… it was never coming here. My greatest hope is that God re-routed that shipment to someone else with a broken heart. Maybe it brought them the same hope it brought me.

The package from Mary was honestly the turning point for me. Finally, I knew that Rudy was okay; I knew that Annie was okay. And most of all, I knew that I’d be okay, because God still cared about me.

How did I know? Well… on September 14, 2010, I received a gift from God. It came in a cardboard box. And when I opened it, these are the words that filled my heart: “Ashley, You can’t give up, because this is why I created you. Keep going… It’s just about to get good…”

--The story was meant to end there. But, in another ironic turn of events…

Ali & I

Last week, Ali’s new dad, Paul DeLeo, searched online for a surprise gift to send me for the anniversary of Rudy’s death. I had no idea he was doing any of this, and he knew nothing of this story or my relationship with Mary.

So, when he ran across the perfect memorial statue online, he contacted the seller. And ironically, it was none other than Mary Ferguson. When Paul explained that he was buying a surprise gift for his friend Ashley Owen Hill, Mary laughed and said, “I think Ashley already has one of my statues. In fact, she has 2. Well, really, 3!”

Paul was totally confused, so Mary told the story I just shared with you. Then she said, “How about this. Instead of buying something from me, send the money to Ashley as a donation. Also, I don’t believe in coincidences anymore, so make sure you tell Ashley about our chance encounter. I know she’ll be just as excited about it as I am.”

Paul & Ali

And I was. After his talk with Mary, Paul sent me a message, and ironically, I received that message as I was writing this very story. Yet again, I was completely blown away. I responded: “You’re kidding!!! You contacted Mary Ferguson?? My Mary?! I don’t even know what to say!!! I love Mary!”

I smiled and laughed to myself, knowing that, once again, there was no explanation for this event. Honestly, it was so unlikely that Paul would ever contact Mary… eerily unlikely. Yes, Mary Ferguson sells the most incredible garden statues (which you should all BUY!), but there are literally hundreds of other statue/memorial retailers online. When I initially searched for Rudy’s memorial, I looked for hours before I ran across Mary’s wonderful store and the perfect item within it. But of course, Paul found Mary right away. Of course he did.

And so, just in time for Rudy’s anniversary, Mary would enter my life again, to remind me of that unbelievable hope she gave me before. After I replied to Paul, I sent Mary the following message:

Mary- It’s funny how life works its way back around. It’s almost been a year since you first gave me hope… and here we are again.

You probably don’t even realize what you did for me last year, but honestly, you changed everything. At a time when my life could’ve easily gone another way, you were the turning point for me. You showed an incredible amount of compassion to a complete and total stranger, and in doing so, you gave me back my life. I’d always wondered what it feels like for the dogs I save… when someone who owes them nothing… gives them everything. Now I know.

If I tried to explain all the things that have happened in my life since Rudy died, you probably wouldn’t believe me. But believe this: you made it all possible. Thank you, Mary, from the bottom of my heart. Your generosity saved more lives than you could know, including my own.  -Ashley

*Mary Ferguson is an incredible human being with a heart of gold. Please thank her for what she did for me by doing 2 things:

PLEASE LIKE her PhenomeGNOME facebook page, & tell her that I sent you! 

Please visit her Etsy shop, PhenomeGNOME. She specializes in handmade garden statues, and her work is amazing! Please buy something!

CLICK HERE to read all of my blogs about Annie!

CLICK TO DONATE TO LUCKY DOG RESCUE!

One Year Later

*CLICK HERE to read Part 1: One Year Ago Today

The days and weeks after Rudy’s death were some of the toughest of my life. Especially that next day, July 9, 2010, when I had to accept that he was really gone forever.

During that time, I let the pain break me; I let the grief change me; I let my spirit die with him. I became so far removed from the person I was before, that I honestly didn’t even recognize myself anymore. I was just… there. And barely.

While so many friends tried to comfort me, my only request was to be left alone. Because that’s exactly how I felt… alone. Abandoned. Shocked. Angry. Heartbroken. Devastated. And alone.

Even still, I was lucky to have so many people who cared about me. I received more calls, emails, and special gifts than I had at any other time in my life. I had messages from across the country, from people I’d never talked to, reaching out to offer comfort and support. Each person also took the time to explain how I had personally inspired them in some way, and those words truly meant the world to me.

But honestly... I couldn’t see myself as any kind of inspiration. I felt like quite the opposite… a complete and total failure.

One night, I talked to my friend Katie. She was trying to cheer me up by reminding me of all the lives I’d saved over the years. But for me, it had all lost its meaning. I said, “I don’t even know if I care anymore. I honestly think it’s best for me to take a break for a while. Maybe forever.” Katie said, “Ash! No! These dogs need you! You can’t take a break! Please don’t quit!” I responded, “My heart is too broken for this right now. I just can’t do it anymore.” And I got off the phone.

In saying those words… the words I’d promised myself I’d never say… I never wanted to give up on the dogs who need me. But after Rudy’s death, I suddenly felt like my heart just couldn’t take it, like every bit of strength and optimism I’d held inside had been ripped away. For so long—but not long enough—Rudy had been my comfort… from the pain of the work I do, from the cruelty of the world, and often, from reality itself. And now, he was gone. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. And tragically. In addition to Rudy, what really died for me… was hope.

Rudy died on July 8^th. My 26^th birthday was on July 11^th, and it was easily the toughest birthday I’ve ever had. I hadn’t left my house in days, and the last thing I wanted was for people to wish me a “happy” birthday. I just couldn’t bear to talk to anyone. I knew how depressing it was to be in my presence, and I hated myself for being the person I never wanted to be. I was suddenly so different… in the worst possible way… and I didn’t want to burden others with my pain.

For my birthday, I ordered a special memorial for Rudy, a small garden statue of a dog with angel wings. It was just perfect for the flowerbed I’d planted over Rudy’s grave. *Remember this part of the story… it comes back later… in a big way. I’ll share that tomorrow.*

On my birthday, Katie called, asking if she could stop by my house. I nicely told her that I didn’t want to see anyone. But she insisted, saying, “Ash, I’ll only stay a second. I have something for you.”

So I reluctantly agreed… but I warned her that the person she’d see when she arrived was not the same Ash she knew and loved. When she got here, I could see the initial shock on her face in witnessing what the grief had done to me. Despite that, she said, “You look good, Ash.” I responded: “I look like hell. But thanks for caring enough to lie.” Katie said, “Hush. You always look beautiful.”

She had a big smile on her face… which I found odd… but I assumed she was just trying to help me feel normal again. Then, she handed me a card. As I went to take it from her, she stopped me… and said: “The day after Rudy died, I started calling everyone we know. I wanted your birthday to be special, and I couldn’t stand the thought of you giving up on rescue. If I’d had more time, I could’ve done more… but in 2 days, this is what I was able to do for you…”

I asked, “Katie, what did you do??” She grinned and said, “Open it.” I opened the card to find more than $600 in donations… which at the time, was unprecedented for me. The card itself held more signatures than I could even count.

I was completely speechless. I sat there, staring at this card… a representation of so much compassion… tangible proof that so many people in my hometown actually love me and the work I do. I’ve often asked myself, “Does anyone here really care about my work… about my attempts to change the world?” That day, I knew the answer. They do care. Many of them.

With tears streaming down my face, I said, “You didn’t have to do this.” She said, “I wanted to do it… for you. And for all the dogs who need you. Ash, please don’t give up. Just look at how many people believe in you.”

That was the first time since Rudy died that I thought, maybe… just maybe… hope still existed.

A few days later, a tagged photo on facebook would inevitably lead to the purchase of Lucky Dog Retreat… and the realization of my lifelong dream. Suddenly, I was beginning to understand why Rudy had to leave me. In truth, the void in my heart after his death was ultimately the catalyst of change in my life. That loss would push me forward… guiding me towards hope and opportunity… and allowing me to reach my dreams.

And so... instead of despair, I grabbed hope... and held on for the wildest ride of my life...

Over the next few months, so many positive things happened for me. Lucky Dog Retreat became incredibly successful, and I was able to save many more lives through Lucky Dog Rescue. One of those special dogs was Annie, and later sharing her story would change my life in a huge way. (There’s another piece of Annie’s story I haven’t shared before… an event after her death that would give me all the hope I needed for the rest of this story to be possible. I’ll share that story tomorrow. It’s unreal.)

Over time, as each new rescue dog came through, I could feel their love slowly patching the holes in my heart. There are far too many dogs to list them all by name, but they each changed me, healed me, and further saved me from despair. And in December, I adopted my dog Riley, who would provide the final piece of healing.

Also in December, we launched Pet Pardons, a small idea that became huge. I didn’t understand at the time just how huge it really was, but it was a total game changer for me personally, and a life saver for so many pets on death row. Pet Pardons has restored my faith in humanity, compassion, and action, and to date, more than 150,000 users have helped us save more than 3000 lives.

  

In January, a friend of mine, Catherine Moore, suggested that I start a blog, and she offered to build it for me. Writing has always been a passion of mine, and while I was nervous about putting myself out there, I didn’t have much to lose.

I decided on the name “Lucky Dog Rescue Blog,” and lovingly dedicated the site to my Rudy. On January 12, 2011, I launched my first post, My Story.

In all honesty, my greatest hope was that a couple of people would read it, and maybe one person would feel inspired to get involved. That was honestly the extent of my dreams for this thing. But I had no idea… that this blog would completely change my life...

I started writing, and people started reading. And more started reading. And then even more joined in. Messages from across the country—across the globe—were filling my inbox, and my heart was so full at the realization that people were not only connecting with my words, but also finding comfort and being driven to action.

Then, in March, I wrote the story that would change everything… Annie’s story. Yes, that Annie. Annie was a terminally ill death row rescue, who lived her last days in my home. At the suggestion of some friends, I wrote about her time with me… hoping it would inspire someone to do the same for another deserving dog. On March 7, 2011, I posted Annie’s story, assuming it would be just like every other post.

That’s when I was contacted by Care2.com, asking to feature the story in their “Rescue of the Week” segment. I was truly honored, but I still had no idea how far Annie’s story would reach. Adopt-a-Pet shared the story, Alyssa Milano tweeted the post, and Dogster.com, BellaDog Magazine, and countless other sites and publications also featured the story.

Suddenly, rescues and shelters from across the country were asking for my help to develop end-of-life programs for terminally ill pets. The fabulous Dr. Pia Salk of Adopt-a-Pet also called me for a long chat about how the story had personally impacted her. Pia and I would later work together on a post for Martha Stewart's blog. In addition, Guarding Dogs-The Documentary decided to make Lucky Dog Rescue part of their upcoming film project.

Before March, Annie’s life had only ever mattered to me. Now, her memory lives on in the hearts of more people that I ever could’ve imagined…

Because, to date, Annie’s story has been read and shared by well over 100,000 people… and growing.

Following that post, major websites contacted me to write guest blogs for their readers. For my Dogster.com guest blog, I chose to write a story I’d shared in the past… but from a different perspective. That story… was Rudy’s story… and it would be the next game changer for me. I sobbed as I poured my heart into the story of my little boy, and the writing process healed my heart in places that I didn’t know were still hurting. But in sharing that post, I had no idea just how huge it would be…

After Dogster’s feature, I was flooded with calls and messages from people around the world who had been touched by the piece… and the outpouring of compassion and support was nothing short of incredible. American Dog Magazine featured Rudy’s story in their summer issue, along with another of my blog posts, and a 2-page feature on me and Lucky Dog Rescue. That's 6 pages in their summer issue. Unreal.

Ahh yes, the "Barbie" photo

Following the Rudy blog, several other posts would hit it big, with an insane number of clicks and shares. Every week, I’m contacted by another site or publication that wants to feature one of my posts. It’s completely unbelievable. I wish I had the words to explain how honored, touched, and appreciative I am for the outpouring of support I’ve received. "Thank you" just doesn't seem sufficient.

My blog also led to another amazing event this year. A few months ago, one of my blog readers, Michelle Sathe, author of “Pit Stops,” added Lucky Dog Rescue as a stop on her cross-country book tour. In May, she finally came to visit, and it was one of the highlights of my year by far. Also, the blog post Michelle wrote about her time with me was one of the most wonderful pieces ever written about this ole Mississippi girl.

Today, six months after my very first post, Lucky Dog Rescue Blog gets more than 55,000 page views per month… and growing. I’ve received messages from readers across the world, in more than 30 different countries, and I’ve connected with more people than I ever could’ve imagined. Each day, so many special readers take the time to tell me how I’ve inspired them, changed their way of thinking, or driven them to action. After reading my posts, people are suddenly stepping-up to volunteer, foster, and transport… and those very readers are truly changing the world. It’s just more than I ever dreamed possible.

Because... if I’m being honest... I’m still shocked that anyone at all is reading this thing…

Last month, Lucky Dog Rescue received its official 501(c)(3) nonprofit status. That was another huge game changer. At 26 years old, I achieved my ultimate goal in life, giving me the chance to save so many more lives going forward. On that day, I felt Rudy, right there with me, saying, “You did it!” But I never would’ve done it, without him. His life inspired me beyond belief… and his death motivated me like nothing else ever could.

Receiving my tax exempt letter was a major accomplishment and the perfect ending to an amazing year… or so I thought. But just before the year ran out… the final piece fell into place. More on that later, but it’s the biggest game changer of all...

One year ago, my life changed forever. And every day since, it’s changed forever too. But the biggest changes only happened, when I altered my mission… from mourning Rudy’s death… to honoring Rudy’s life.

In doing so, I opened my heart, I followed my dreams, and I fought my way back… to hope.

And wow… what a year it’s been…

*Rudy, I love you so much. Thank you for changing my world as much in death... as you did in life. I hope I've made you proud, buddy. When I get to Heaven, I expect to see a long line of dogs waiting to greet me. Please make sure you're first in line. I miss you.
-Mom

**Next, I’ll share one of the most incredible moments from last year, the event after Annie’s death that made this entire year possible. Click below to read that post (Part 3):

http://luckydogrescueblog.blogspot.com/2011/07/gift-from-god.html

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