Saying Goodbye to a Friend

Disclaimer: If you get queasy or emotional, skip this post. Just don't read it.

When the chapa dropped me off at my new house on my first day here, I was nervous. I was all alone in an empty house and I didn't know anyone. I was overwhelmed.

That first day, as I sat glumly on my Peace Corps-issued trunk in my barren living room, wondering if I'd just made a huge mistake, I got attacked by a tiny, energetic, happy fur-ball.

Poppy.

Even though it was the first time we'd met, she greeted me like we were old friends. She made me feel instantly more at home. Poppy was my first friend in Mavudzi-Ponte.

This morning, I had to say goodbye to her.

Poppy was supposed to be having puppies, but she had complications when she went into labor. My neighbors tried to help, but she clearly needed surgery. This being rural Africa, there are no on-call veterinarians available. There was nothing I could do but watch and wait.

All I could do was sit with her and stroke her head. She delivered two puppies, both stillborn, and got progressively worse as the evening wore on. I stayed up with her all night, sitting on the kitchen floor, holding her head in my lap and mopping up the pints of blood that she was losing. She just kept staring at me, her big brown eyes filled with love and pain.

It was the longest night of my life.

This morning, she was just barely hanging on. My neighbor came over and offered to carry her outside so she could spent her last moments sitting under the tree she used to nap under. I said goodbye to Poppy and thanked him. He gathered Poppy up and carried her away.

It's a nice day outside. Sunny. I hope her last moments were happy. She deserves it -- Poppy was a wonderful dog, and I will never forget her. I hope she's at peace now.

Rest in peace, Poptart.