Pet obituary

Aza – Faithful to the End of Her Life

By David Dastych

Sunday, April 15, 2007

It was a very cold, frosty Winter day in February of 1996, when our neighbor Maria brought a dog to our apartment. "Keep her for a week or so, until I find a home for her. She's so beautiful. She's wandering in a snow blizzard and her paws are frozen." – Maria told us. She had a small shop in front of our apartment building and she used to feed stray dogs and cats there. A good-hearted woman, indeed.

Sophie and I were a bit startled. Only a year ago we returned to Poland from France, after my accident in the mountains. I was recovering from a broken spine, half-paralyzed, moving around in a wheel-chair. We rented an apartment from Polish friends living in New York City, neither of us had a job or regular income yet. The black-haired bitch was a cross a German sheep-dog and a Doberman, quite a big animal, distrustful, maybe dangerous. She mounted our couch in the living room, lifted her head and howled sadly. But we agreed to keep her for a time. Sophie fed her and combed her ruffled hair. For some time, the bitch stood at the door and wanted to flee. But then she calmed down and went to sleep.

In the next days, Maria used to come to walk her and would return the bitch back home to us. One day I told my wife: "She's going to stay with us. How shall we call her?" Sophie thought for a moment and then said: "Aza", it's a popular village-dog name. I said: "Why not Aza. Let's call her by this name." The following weeks were difficult for me. Each time I moved in my wheel-chair, or I tried to walk with the help of crutches, Aza barked at me, or even tried to bite my foot or hand. Sometimes I thought I would turn the dog back to Maria. But she told me: "Aza had to be beaten by somebody and she reacts with aggression." I calmed down and soon Aza and I were best friends.

In Spring, when I went to a rehabilitation center for a few weeks, our bitch became very sad, she refused to eat and laid in front of the door, looking out for me. It was a joyful day, when I returned home.

Years passed, and Aza was always with us. We moved to a suburban house with a garden, and she was happy there, running around and guarding the house. She would not let any strangers in and she chased other dogs, cats and would-be-thieves away. She loved to travel in a car and to walk with Sophie to the nearby woods. It was a very happy time for us and for her. Then, one year, she was poisoned by someone. But our neighbors, vet doctors, saved her. Five years ago Aza wounded herself in a neighbor's backyard. She got an infection and became paralysed. The situation looked hopeless. Our bitch was laying on her mattress. We had to carry her to the vets, to wash her, to change diapers. Then Iza, our vet doctor, started to inject Aza's own blood into her muscles. The auto-vaccine worked. The paralysis was slowly receding.

It was Easter Holiday. Iza and her husband (both vet doctors) came to our house with their daughter, Ada, to greet us on the Resurrection. And suddenly Aza got up and started to walk. We all cried with happiness. It was like a miracle, when our dying bitch began to recover and soon after she was running around the house again. In the same year, we got a little Canadian oci-cat, we named Mickey. Aza took the kitten for her own pup (she was never in pup herself), and soon both animals got along very well. When Mickey fell off from a window and broke his paw, Aza helped him by licking his hair and his rear end.

In Autumn of 2004, we moved again-- to a small apartment in downtown Warsaw, on the 4th floor. Aza didn't like the neighborhood. It was a busy street with poor and dirty lawns and some trees in the backyard. She had to be walked with a muzzle and on a leash. She strongly disapproved of that. There was also little room for her in our very small apartment. But, after some time, she got used to the new conditions of living. And, as before, she used to "protest" whenever I left the home, sometimes for several weeks in a hospital. When our cat was very ill, almost dying, Aza played a "mum" to Mickey and he was confident staying with her. Every morning the little cat started the day by rubbing himself against and playing with Aza. Our life was much centered on our pets. Sophie and I couldn't go out together, and when we went to a restaurant nearby (with a Summer garden), Aza accompanied us at lunch. When I had to go out alone, she pulled my wife to that restaurant, looking for me. Sophie and Aza went shopping together, and some shopkeepers treated Aza with a piece of sausage. She was also allowed to go in a pharmacy, where she behaved well.

At the end of 2006, we noticed that Aza was lame. Her rear feet became stiff and she could barely walk. Sophie took her to the nearby veterinary clinic, where she received medicine and some injections. In January of 2007, Aza became very ill. It took several weeks before a final diagnosis could be reached. She had to be sterilized and it was really the last moment to operate on her. On March 16, 2007 Aza had a surgery, and she recovered well. But then our bitch, over 12 years old, became weaker and weaker. She couldn't walk, she had trouble breathing and she lost much of her red blood corpuscles. Several blood transfusions didn't help much. Aza was dying.

The vet doctors and students took marvelous care of her. Sophie had to call a taxicab each morning and bring Aza to the clinic for drip, injections and other treatments. Now our bitch was receiving chemo-therapy every day. The clinic helped us to pay for a very expensive cancer treatment.

It was Easter Sunday again. Aza was laying on her mattress, while we had our Easter breakfast. Then our family visited us and Aza crawled to their feet to greet them. In the next few days she was carried to the vet clinic again and the doctors did their utmost to save her life. But it was a very rare kind of leukemia, practically incurable.

On Thursday, April 12, 2007, Aza was unable to walk and even to hold her head up. Sophie took a taxi to transport her to the clinic for treatment. None of us supposed it was the last day. The doctor's examination was a death verdict. Our beloved bitch had almost no blood left and she was in agony. She was put to sleep with love and tender care. Sophie came back home without Aza, crying. Our home seems to be empty. My wife can't stop crying when I talk of Aza. Our bitch went to a "dog's paradise", faithful to the very end of her life, calm and happy to be with us.

Pursuant to Title 17 U.S.C. 107, other copyrighted work is provided for educational purposes, research, critical comment, or debate without profit or payment. If you wish to use copyrighted material from this site for your own purposes beyond the 'fair use' exception, you must obtain permission from the copyright owner. Views are those of authors and not necessarily those of Canada Free Press. Content is Copyright 1997-2024 the individual authors. Site Copyright 1997-2024 Canada Free Press.Com Privacy Statement