TIME TO SAY GOODBYE
There's never enough time. Sweet little Oliver was a part of my life for nearly 15 years, but it wasn't nearly enough. He's only been gone for barely a week, but it feels like forever.
Their "facility" was in a rowhouse in southwest Portland. The facilitator told me she currently had 33 dachshunds living in a 3 bedroom rowhouse. I wasn't allowed in, but she (Jenell) would bring them to me one at a time and let me visit with them in the driveway. I brought Ramsey along to make sure they would get along. (Jenell had originally said I needed to adopt a female rather than a male.) One by one, Jenell brought them out until at last, she brought out Oliver (Ollie). He was adorable and furthermore, was literally hugging her as she carried him out. I could tell he was her favorite, but then, he was also mine. I brought him back to Hermiston and tried to acclimate him to the house.
Unfortunately, Ollie proved to be a challenge, but in his defense, I think it was because he was a part of such a huge household of dogs, and his bathroom habits left much to be desired. He did eventually catch on and became so wonderful that I only had to ask him to go potty, like if we were going to go somewhere in the car, and he would venture outside and take care of business before we left.
Ollie had a complicated life with me, mostly because of the many moves we made. We moved from the Hat Rock house to the Hermiston house, then to Tri Cities, Pendleton and eventually San Carlos, Mexico! He endured several very challenging relationships with me as well: a manic depressive and a narcissist. Believe me when I tell you that Ollie was my rock. In each of my heartaches, beginning with the loss of Tito and through the various relationships, he was my comfort and my sanity. We developed an incredible bond. He had a way of sensing when comfort was needed.
For a brief period of time before moving to Mexico, I lived with a friend, Melissa, who was presumably "not a dog person". Melissa was dealing with lymphoma and had lost complete use of her right arm. Ollie surprised both of us when he leapt into her lap and decided to spend some quality time with her.
Eventually, we made the drive from Pendleton, Oregon to San Carlos, Sonora, Mexico. It was a 3 day road trip, accompanied by by friend, Jan. What a trooper he was, right down to the fact that he would "tell" me when he needed a potty stop. He stayed in Utah, Las Vegas, Arizona and then on to San Carlos. Shortly after moving to San Carlos to move into the house I purchased with my husband, he informed me that he wanted a divorce. I was the new kid in town and knew no one, but fortunately, had connected with the local spay and neuter clinic. One of my co-volunteers there needed someone to house sit for her and her husband while they returned to the states for the summer. Ollie and I moved in to a huge house with an even larger yard with a pool on the golf course. Ollie was delighted to be able to bark at the golfers. We lived there for 7 months until they returned from the states. From there, we moved into a house in the Bahia with a friend from church, Meg, and her 90 pound giant schnauzer, Misha.
Misha must have wondered what exactly Ollie was, being he was so small, but she loved him. As for Ollie, let's just say that he tolerated Misha. Not only was were the soothing waters of the Bahia a comfort to my soul, but Meg was working through her own demons as her husband had been murdered a couple of years prior. When either of us was feeling sad or depressed from the death of her husband or my impending divorce, we'd gather up the dogs and go for a walk. We had a fantastic route along the Bahia to a secluded, rocky beach. From the time I moved into the house in the Bahia until 2 years later when I moved into a duplex across the street, it became apparent that Ollie was aging. Initially, he could make the walk along the Bahia (with a little help up several of the steep hills), but then the walk just became too much for him. We'd take a stroll around the neighborhood, and that was just fine for him. As my friend, Laurie, would out it he liked "reading the news", so we'd take a slow pace walking to visit a friend down the street, with Ollie sniffing everything along the way.
Ollie had a brief relationship with another rescue dog from San Carlos, Diva. She lived with a pack of nearly 200 dogs, but definitely stood out from all the rest. She was a standard dachshund, so she dwarfed little Ollie. She had quite the personality, but again, Ollie basically only tolerated her. I had hoped that they would become friends, but that never happened.
Unfortunately, Diva had some health issues that weren't apparent when I adopted her, so she died within the year in spite of our many trips to the vet.
Ollie lived with me in San Carlos for about 4 years and totally
enjoyed the warmth of the sun! He would sit on top of the couch in my living room and survey the neighborhood. He also made many friends there. Everyone who met him thought he was pretty cool. He even accompanied me to the local thrift store when I volunteered there on Saturdays. He had his "regulars" who would seek him out to pet him. As one of his friends said, "Ollie's superpower is his cuteness." One of the local restaurants even knew Ollie as he would often accompany me to meals. His favorite was eggs benedict: he loved the hollandaise sauce. The servers would gather up the remaining sauce from our meal and send it home with him.
Probably one of his more difficult times was when he flew from San Carlos to Portland, Oregon. I had re-connected with an old "flame" and we married in San Carlos and moved to his home on the Oregon coast. Ollie was 15 years old by now and had never been on a plane. Worse yet, we ended up spending the night in the Phoenix airport due to flight cancellations. He was definitely glad to be on the ground again when we arrived to his new home in Netarts. But now, he had not only 2 new dog brothers, but a brother cat as well, Hector. Hector probably outweighed Ollie by close to 8 pounds and was definitely not amused to have another dog in the house. Quincy and Zane accepted Ollie immediately, and Quincy, in fact, seemed to like to "mother" him as he would seek Ollie out to "clean" him with licks.
For the first time in his life, Ollie had a man in his world who loved him. Roger and Ollie took to one another almost immediately. We began a morning ritual where Ollie was the last one out of our bed. I would literally scrape him off the sheets and gather him up like a baby to carry him out to the kitchen for his good morning kiss from Roger. He got so he would choose to lie next to Rog on the couch or while we were reading in bed.
It was so wonderful to feel like Ollie finally had a home with two people who adored him and other pets to keep him company. Well, except for Hector who would often take a swat at him. (I think Hector was jealous) I had been told for some time that Ollie had a heart murmur, but it hadn't seem to effect him. Then, In August of 2023 he had a series of coughing episodes that scared me. The vet confirmed that he was in heart failure and prescribed a series of medications that he had to take twice a day forever. It wasn't so bad, at first, as I could hide the pills in a piece of hot dog, but Ollie became more picky. Later, it became more and more difficult to hide his meds. I tried everything. For a while, he would take them rolled up in a piece of banana bread, but then, even that didn't work. So, we went back to the vet who ran some tests and advised that not only was Ollie in heart failure, he was also in renal failure. We tried some new medications (on top of the ones he was already taking) to try to stimulate his appetite. Nothing worked.
His last night, it was apparent that he was going. I had told the vet that I didn't want to take heroic measures to keep him alive, but yet, I wasn't ready to let him go. That night, his coughing worsened. He was inconsolable. We went to the living room where he either laid on top of me on the couch, or else on his pillow with me next to him on the floor. Of course, no vets were open in the middle of the night so we struggled to make it through the night with the hopes that the vet could come to he house in the morning. About 7 that morning, it was obvious that my little man was dying. I gathered him in my arms like a baby and held him, telling him how much I love him and that it was okay for him to go. I have no idea if he had any clue what I was saying, but my hope was that I was a comfort to his as much as he had been a comfort to me all of his life with me. I felt his little heart stop beating at 7:30 that morning. It was devastating, but I knew that it was what was best for him. Still, it was comforting to me that he passed in my arms the same as he began each morning: cradled in my arms waiting for his kisses.
I don't know when, or if I'll try to adopt another dachshund. Funny, when Tito passed, I was sure there would never be another doxie who could replace him, but Ollie more that met and surpassed that challenge. I know there are other dogs out there who desperately need a home, and I miss my little man incredibly. Maybe when we slow down on our travels it will be the right time to brig another dog into our lives. For now, it's best just to cling to our remaining dog, Zane (oh, and of course, Hector!)
