I found it in my computer files today and wanted to see what you guys thought of it. I think I'm going to re-write another short story version of it too. 
I hate the style of writing she made us use; it quite literally makes me gag, so don't think this is how I write all the time, because believe me it's not. Anyway, here it is!__________________________________________________________________________________________
HOW YOU LIVE
Sometimes sacrifice is the best we can do for someone we love. Even if we want to help them or to save them, if it's not what they need then what is the purpose? If we love someone enough, we should be able to let them go if they're in pain, and not wish to keep them around for ourselves. This was the lesson I learned last winter, when I first met the little dogs who changed my life: Mia and her puppies.
It was unusually cold by late November. I remember being thrilled when it was just five degrees. Compared to the weather lately, that was warm. The temperature was the bone-biting kind of chill; you could practically feel every cell of your body freezing, even beneath layers of coats and sweatshirts. No one wanted to go outside. There were no little children building snowmen, like previous years. There were no puffy, chipping sparrows going about their daily life. All living creatures were resigned to staying indoors (or, in the sparrows' case, in their nests).
To well explain what happens next, I must tell you about my mother's job. She is a preschool teacher, and has been since I entered middle school. One of the ladies that helps teach is a very kind woman named Karen. If it weren't for her, I never would’ve met Mia.
The call came when my mom was driving me out to the barn to ride my horses. “Well, Karen,” my mom said after a long pause when she answered her cell. “I suppose we could, if it was temporary... no, we've already got two dogs... alright, just call in a bit and let me know.”
“What was that about?” I asked curiously, and she proceeded to explain the situation: Karen's neighbor had a dog they weren't feeding that was being left outside in the cold. They were willing to give it to a new owner, and she was wondering if we wanted her. I, of course, was thrilled at the prospect of getting a new dog. My family members are quite animal lovers, and at the time I was considering becoming a veterinarian when I grew up.
I couldn't seem to concentrate the entire riding lesson; I was far too absorbed in thinking about this new dog that might join our family. That's when I gave myself a reality check – I had no need to get ahead of myself; there was no guarantee this would really happen, and I did not want to be disappointed if it didn't.
Of course, this doubt was unnecessary, because as soon as I was done riding and after she had called my mom back, we headed over to Karen's to pick up the dog, whose old owners had willingly given her to us.
She was small and scared. Despite her current condition, she reminded me of an Italian Greyhound I used to have, except for the fact that she was so skinny I could count all of her ribs. If it hadn’t been for the thin curtain of skin and matted tan fur over her bones, she could have been a skeleton.
Instantly, any question in my mom’s mind as to whether or not we would take her vanished. Quickly, she had me run out to the car to grab the towels and blankets we had brought to wrap her in.
When I was holding her in my arms, I could barely feel her weak body heat. It seemed impossible for this tiny creature to still be alive, and I didn’t believe any dog could be neglected worse than this.
Before we left, Karen told us her name was Daisy.
The first thing we did when we brought her home was isolate her from her other dogs (until they got used to each other, and in case Daisy was sick) and give her some food. Much to our surprise, she didn’t eat it, but instead ran around and hid it in odd places, such as shoes, as though she was saving it for later because she wasn’t sure when her next meal would be.
Sadly, because of the way she was treated in the past, Daisy developed a lot of food aggression. If anyone came near her while she was eating, person or otherwise, she would growl and get more than a little vicious.
Fortunately, my mom is friends with a lady named Nancy who works at the Humane Society. She was kind enough take Daisy in and nurture her back to health, since it would be impossible for her to get along with our other dogs.
And now where, exactly, do Mia and her puppies come in? Without Daisy, we never would have gotten Mia; it’s important to explain both stories.
As I said before, it was freezing outside and only getting colder with each passing day. Plymouth kept getting pounded by more and more snow and ice. The chill was relentless.
By now, it was mid-December and according to Nancy, Daisy was doing fantastic. We made plans several times to come and visit her, but little things kept popping up. After a week or two, we finally made it to the Humane Society one day after school.
My dad was at work, so it was just my mom, brother, and I. Nancy was working today, and when we walked up to the front desk, her whole face lit up as though she had thought of a brilliant idea. After greeting us enthusiastically, she asked if we were here to visit Daisy. When mom told her that we were, Nancy just kept on smiling. “She just got adopted this morning! I was going to call and tell you guys, but I didn’t have a chance to yet… however, we got a new dog in last night… would you be interested in fostering?”
That was a lot of information to take in at once. “She was adopted?” My mom grinned. “That’s fantastic! And, I suppose we could be interested in fostering… what’s this new dog like?” I was a little surprised by her response. Twice in the same month of almost getting a new dog? It hardly seemed possible.
“Well,” Nancy began. “She’s a Chihuahua.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mom grimace. Chihuahuas aren’t her favorite kind of dog; she says they’re too ‘yippy’ and that their bulging eyes are kind of creepy. Nancy must have seen Mom’s face, because she corrected herself quickly. “But a big Chihuahua; she really doesn’t look like one a whole lot. Oh, and, umm… she’s pregnant.” My face fell. If we had any chance of fostering her before, it was gone now. Nancy knows my Mom well though, and continued, knowing that telling this dog’s sob story would tug at Mom’s heart strings. “Someone dumped her and another Chihuahua, we assume he was the father, in the Wal-Mart parking lot. What kind of person would do that to two dogs, one of which was pregnant, in the dead of winter I have no idea, but… she’s a sweetheart, real lapdog. She’d curl up inside you if she could.”
My stomach clenched when she said someone left them there; for God’s sake, we’re lucky when it gets over zero degrees right now. How did they survive?
“Can we see her?” Mom asked. I smiled, knowing that the instant Mom laid eyes on her, we’d take her home.
Nancy led us to one of the back rooms – I was surprised the dog wasn’t in the kennels – and swung open the door.
The first thing I saw was her eyes. They didn’t fit her midnight coat color; the only way I could describe them is chestnut. The way they looked around anxiously showed her emotions clearly, and when her eyes locked on me I took a step back because I was surprised at how… intelligent they were. Nancy scooped her up in her arms and said, “This is her. We’ve been calling her Mamma Mia – Mia for short.” It’s then I saw her huge bulging stomach. “We were almost surprised she didn’t have them last night while we were gone.”
What exactly happened after that I don’t remember, but somehow we ended up in our car on the way home – with Mia in a dog bed on the console between the driver and passenger seats. As she slept, I watched her. Mia’s coat was like a Doberman’s – all black with tan points. But those eyes… gosh, I couldn’t get past them. Even though they were closed now, I could still see them clearly in my head. I knew she was something special.
Nancy was right; Mia did not look much like a Chihuahua. She did not have the abnormally large head, or the short, stubby legs characteristic of normal dogs of the breed.
Day after day went by, and still no puppies arrived. By now, we’d taken Mia to the vet to make sure she was healthy – there we found out that there were four puppies inside her, and she also had worms. After the worms were taken care of, we waited. And waited some more. Waiting became our new hobby; our new pastime. Since the holidays were nearing, we came up with Christmas-themed names for the puppies during this time. For a boy: Cocoa, Comet, Rudy (short for Rudolph), Nicholas; for a girl: Annabelle (from Annabelle’s Wish, a movie we watch every Christmas Eve), Noelle, Cupid, Holly.
Then, something quite odd happened.
For a while, we had been noticing that Mia did not respond to the sound of her name. We figured it was simply because she had not been called Mia before, and did not know her name yet. But one evening, Mom went to work late at the preschool. When she got home, it was very late and everyone was asleep, including Mia, who had relaxed on a dog bed in the kitchen. As she walked in, Mom dropped most of what she was carrying. She said it sounded like a gun going off. The other dogs down at the other end of the house began to bark furiously, but Mia, who was only a few feet away, never even flinched or awoke.
We were very concerned that she did not react to sounds, so we took her to the vet yet again. After listening to what we told them, and performing some tests of their own, they confirmed our fears: Mia was almost completely deaf.
It was about that time we began to wrap some presents to put under our tree. My brother, Kennedy, knew how much I loved Milk Duds, so he had gotten me several boxes of them and wrapped them up together.
At least, they had been wrapped together.
We came home one day to discover that Mia had gotten out of the section of the house we had fenced in for the dogs and chewed open the present so she could eat an entire box of Milk Duds. She was very mischievous.
This became even more obvious the day we came home and found broken glass all over the floor. Mia had gotten out of the dog fence again, but this time she had jumped up onto the couch and through the kitchen pass-through onto the counter. There, she had proceeded to knock several tea bottles onto the ground.
It was getting closer and closer to Christmas. That weekend, we were going to go to my grandparents’ house in Ohio, and because Mia was so close to giving birth we had decided to take her with us. That’s when we got the sad news that Nancy’s husband had died. With all the funeral preparations, she’d been unable to come to the Humane Society for a while, so it was a good thing we took Mia when we did – she could have been all alone to have her puppies.
The weekend in Ohio was fairly uneventful. My cousins all gushed over Mia and every single one of them wanted one of the puppies. We ended up leaving early that evening, because Mia was getting restless and we could feel the puppies kicking more than usual.
Mom woke me up at 5:38 the next morning. Mia was having her puppies, finally. It was December 21. When I got down to my mom’s bathroom – the place Mia had decided to have them – she was panting on the floor with a bunch of towels laying around her.
Next to Mia was a box we had set up with a blanket and hot pad in it so the puppies would stay warm.
The first puppy born was a tiny gray male. It seemed impossible for such a little animal to be alive, but he was. We named him Comet. Sadly, Comet passed away shortly after birth. It was devastating for me to see this tiny circle of life and death in a matter of minutes.
My exact thought when the second puppy was born was ‘the world has been hit by something big.’ She was a brindle female with a lot of white markings. We decided to call her Noelle.
The remaining two puppies were born quickly after that; first a dark brown female, Annabelle, and then a dark brindle male, Cocoa. All three were incredibly cute.
We marveled over their colors, and tried to guess whether or not the dog Mia was found with was the father. It didn’t seem like it; these puppies barely looked Chihuahua.
Over the next few weeks, their personalities developed quickly, although their eyes still weren’t open yet. It seemed that whenever anything happened, it happened to Annabelle (we called her Annie for short). If a puppy fell out of the box, it was Annie. If one got laid on by Mia, it was Annie. Noelle was the boss, she was always the first to nurse and she nursed the most. She quickly outgrew her brother and sister. Cocoa was fearless, although sometimes we weren’t sure how smart he was.
I spent as much time as I could with Mia and her puppies. I would go and read in the bathroom for hours on end; I was like a paranoid parent – I always had to make sure they were okay.
Noelle was the first to open her eyes. It was odd to see; her eyes were open, but did not focus. Annie and Cocoa opened their eyes quickly afterward.
We had decided that we were going to keep Mia (because of her sweet, loving personality) and one of the puppies, but we weren’t sure which. Noelle captured all our hearts, however, and eventually we decided it would be her we kept. She was so friendly, always licking her brother and sister and mom, although they were so busy they rarely licked her back.
I loved holding and petting Noelle. She was like a dream dog; all she wanted to do was be loved all day, every day.
Not long after opening their eyes, Annie and Cocoa began to walk. Soon they were running and tackling each other, all roly-poly and clumsy as young puppies are. However, Noelle just lay and watched calmly from the side. She didn’t walk.
The younger two began to grow into their bodies, and no longer appeared disproportionate. Cocoa and Annie were so fun to have around. They had so much energy, and we were beginning to realize that Annie was quite a firecracker.
Still, Noelle did not walk. She had not lost the big belly, and short, skinny, weak legs. We began to get worried, so we took all three of them to the vet.
The doctor came to the conclusion it was probably just worms, since their mom had had worms while pregnant. After deworming all the puppies (just to be on the safe side), we returned home. But Noelle still did not get better.
When Annie and Cocoa began running and jumping and acting like puppies should, Noelle did not.
When Annie and Cocoa began to eat ‘real’ food, Noelle did not.
She stopped eating, and we got concerned. She was still not walking. She still wasn’t using her back legs. She still had that chubby puppy belly.
Again, we took her to the vet. They said she was just developing slowly. Not believing it, we did some research, but came up empty.
Then, Noelle took a turn for the worst. She began whining all the time; a pitiful, heart-breaking sound. There was nothing we could do to stop her pain. At that time, it was almost a blessing Mia was deaf – I know she would have felt terrible if she could hear how hurt her daughter was.
I could see all the high hopes and plans I had for her going up in smoke – there goes agility at the 4-H fair, dog shows, no longer would I hope for the day we would be able to play fetch. Instead, I just hoped she would live to be a month old. I prayed every morning when I woke up that today would be the miracle – she’d be running and jumping like she should. But it never happened.
It was so tough, because I was supposed to be the one to protect this puppy. She came into the world defenseless, and it was my job to look out for her. It killed me when I couldn’t. I felt helpless.
Every time I heard her whine like that (she didn’t stop), I cried. I began to almost wish we could put her out of her misery. But a little voice inside me nagged and said, what if she could get better? But it didn’t seem like it could happen.
Finally the day came. It was Friday, January 23, and I knew that today was it. She was whining still (louder, if that was possible), sounding like she was crying, like she was begging us to save her. Mom had taken her to a different vet earlier in the day, to see if they thought the same thing. However, if anything, they were more pessimistic.
At our regular vet’s recommendation, we decided it was time to put Noelle down. I was crying before we even left to get in the car, because when I set her down to say bye to Annie and Cocoa, they both licked her back. That was the first time they’d ever done such a thing and it set me off bawling. It was as though they knew.
She whined the whole way to the vet. As we turned out of our drive, a song called “How You Live” came on the radio. The lyrics were all about living your life to the fullest, before it was over. I cried more – Noelle was a living testament to that. It said you should love everyone while you can and not sweat the little things. I felt as if the song was written with her in mind. There was so much I could learn from my little puppy.
We didn’t go into the room with her at the veterinarian’s office, but even the vet cried when we kissed her goodbye. They sent us a card a few weeks later that sent on a fresh wave of tears.
After an autopsy was done, it proclaimed that at the time of her death, Noelle had a staph infection in every organ of her body. It could have come on in utero, or even after birth. It was impossible to know. Nothing could have saved her.
She was ‘an old soul in a young body.’ Her whole personality shined like silver; it was as though she had been alive for hundreds of years and had realized what life was about. I wondered how this little animal, who seemed to know what her purpose here on earth was, could be so much wiser than I. She was unfailingly loving, which made it that much harder to see her in pain. I wondered how she could keep loving us so much, even though there was nothing we could do to keep her alive. She must have been an angel – sent here by God to teach us a lesson, and called home early.
Not too long ago, we brought Annie, Cocoa, and Mia to visit Nancy at the Humane Society. When we told her we found out Mia was deaf, she said that she had discovered the other dog Mia was found with (who was named Max and also adopted) was deaf as well, and most likely Mia’s brother, not the father of the puppies. After much debate, we decided the father must have been a Yorkie.
Cocoa got a new home with one of my friends, and we decided to keep Annabelle. She never ceases to make me smile, and is unbelievably intelligent, just like her mother.
I believe the lesson I learned from this is live your life to the fullest, but don’t forget the little things along the way. Don’t hold on to someone if what you want is not what is best for them. I still think about Noelle and Comet every day, but I don’t worry, because I know they are now free of their earthly imperfections, and in heaven can run and jump and play as puppies should.
