In Memory of Athena

Athena was my foster for only one month. She died after coming out of anesthesia for surgery to remove a mass that was pressing on her rectum. Her heart stopped and she could not be revived, despite the efforts of a highly competent and trusted veterinarian and his staff. Athena was 8 years old and originally from a puppy mill. She was purchased by a breeder who surrendered her to FBRN when her last litter of one pup failed to survive. Athena was tired and scared when she arrived at our house. She cowered in the back of her crate and avoided all attempts to coax her out. I let Athena hide for 3 days and then I put the crate away. I told her we were good people and it was a beautiful day outside. Her first days out she was like a crab at the beach, always wary and scurrying away a few feet ahead of us; then the distance closed. Athena was true to her breed, and the pull to sit on a lap and hear another’s heartbeat was overwhelming. We all held and cuddled Athena and she luxuriated in the attention. When we returned home she barked with joy, did zoomies and licked our fingers. Close friends insisted that we adopt this one. My husband proclaimed her flawless. Athena regained her health faster than any of my other fosters. She put on weight and muscle, her appetite was robust and she was happy. We marveled as 8 year old Athena reversed time and grew younger, not older. She started to play like a puppy and loved to tug on the straps of my bike bag. Athena mined the flotsam and jetsam of my son’s room for little plastic things that she’d carry around and collect in her bed. Her favorite was a pink and blue gecko. She became very close to our Frenchie Gigi. They spent the day napping together or exploring the underbrush of the backyard. Athena loved to be outside. She watched the birds, chased the chipmunks and danced after butterflies. She stayed out in the rain, and wind and dark. (I have had Frenchies I had to take out in the rain, but never one I had to bring in from the rain.) At night I’d go out with a flashlight to bring Athena in for bed. Often I’d find her sitting with a cat just listening to the night. Athena was ethereal in moonlight. Athena is why I foster. There are those of my species that have cruelly betrayed the dog and I feel the need to make amends. Despite her years of abuse, Athena held no grudge. When I dropped Athena off at the vet’s I kissed her (twice) and told her not to worry and that I would be back to get her. My daughter and I buried Athena in the rain under the moonflowers in the garden she loved.

Rebecca Merica
10-23-08