by Cyn Bagley

Created on: August 12, 2007   Last Updated: December 29, 2009

This memory is not dramatic. Herky, a Jack Russell terrier, did not drag me from a burning building or save me from drowning. He didn't fight off a burglar. But, he did help me through the most traumatic experience of my life. At the time, he was seven years old. I was 41, and I was dying.

I had been diagnosed with a rare disease called Wegener's Granulomatosis. My husband, the doctors, nurses, and most of my caretakers were not sure that I would survive. My kidneys had shut down. Every three to four weeks I would have out-patient chemotherapy. The nurse would help me into a comfortable chair. She would put an I.V. into my arm. The chemo, cytoxan, would course through my veins for about four hours.

Once the anti-nausea meds were out of my system after I went home, I would sit next to the toilet, heaving out my stomach contents. It was not the best time of my life.

My immune system was so suppressed with the chemotherapy that I was told to stay away from the hospital. I could easily pick up a superbug from an institution that was supposed to cure me. Also, my doctors were quite concerned about me being around large groups of people. If anyone sneezed in my direction, I could get extremely ill. Or more ill than I already was.

At the time, I was staying with my brother and sister-in-law. Herky was the house dog. As soon as I walked into the house, looking like a skeleton from the weight loss due to kidney failure, he jumped up next to me and put his head in my lap. Whenever I rested, he would be right there with his nose resting on my knees. He'd curl behind the back of my legs.

At first I was scared to sleep. I had been so close to death that I knew that if I fell asleep that I would die. Herky would lie next to me. I would rub his head and know that he guarded my sleep. Then, I would fall asleep, comforted.

As I grew stronger, he was there to take me on walks to the mail box. He was ready to play ball. And, he was there to jump at bubbles. He made me laugh. And, I needed that laughter. I had been so scared and so tired that I had wondered if living was enough. He would jump and grin, making me feel alive.

When we finally left the house, I had to leave Herky. It was very hard. He had gave me something else to think of rather than my illness. It comforts me that he is now guarding the sleep of his two favorite boys, my nephews.

Herky saved my life. He gave me happiness in the present. He didn't judge my mental, physical, and emotional losses. He taught me to value love.

Herky will always remain in my memory as the dog who saved me from depression during the worst time of my life.

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