How do you describe your devastation when he dies?
We are feeling the deepest grief since we had to say goodbye to our Dear Satchel on Wednesday, June 23rd, and I am searching for the words to honor him now.
The Sun Shines on Satchel
The Strongest Person We Know, that is our Satch Man.
Though messages were no longer traveling through his spinal cord, Satchel wanted to do everything. We began calling him "The Divining Rod" as his greatest goal was to locate each water dish in the house and drink as much water as possible.
We've had many nicknames for Satchel. An incomplete list includes:
Satchie
Satchie Tuna
Satchimus
Satchimungo
The Satch Man
Big Guy
Buddy
Lovey
The Divining Rod
Count Satchula
Top Dog
The Satchinator
The Great Urinator
Peanut Butter Houdini
Satchel is the strongest person we know because despite his many many health issues he flourished in his nearly 16 years.
*He was abandoned and left in a basement for 5 months at 3 years old.
*He is severely carsick.
*He survived surgery for soft tissue sarcoma and 18 radiation treatments - each event required a nearly 1hr car ride each way. One treatment had to be postponed due to his overwhelming anxiety and vomiting.
*He survived surgery for laryngeal paralysis which causes a dog's throat to collapse. His eyes rolled back into his head the day Jason and I returned from a weekend in Glen Arbor because he couldn't breathe. I took him to a specialist the next day. Surgery occurred 2 weeks later.
*Satchel endured my need to be near him as well. When he was recovering from laryngeal tie-back surgery, I slept in the car in the parking lot. The anesthesia caused a heart arrhythmia and he had to stay an extra 2 days. I was miserable and Satchel just wanted to be home.
Satchie cuddled up right where Jason sleeps
But Satchel was not strong merely because he survived health problems. It is his motivated spirit that I hope to draw strength from. Satchel can find pleasure in siting in the grass, but he would rather walk the yard exploring the scents. Satchel can enjoy a snack on the patio, but would prefer to alert us to raccoons, birds, large insects and airplanes. Satchel should lie down and rest, but he prefers walking through the house to find all the water and to keep his heart pumping and to keep his lungs expanding. That's not just strong. That's SatchelStrong and that is our new motivational phrase.
The pain of missing him is intense and I have to keep repeating, "I am SatchelStrong," to get me through the moments that hurt so badly I cannot breathe. If Satchel can survive everything including laryngeal paralysis and a demyelinating of his spinal cord, I can breathe through the pain of living without him.
The Big Satch Man
Before he died, I told Satchel I was concerned that he didn't really have anyone waiting for him to show him the way through Heaven. I thought he could look for Koko in some woods. I was relieved to feel the calm of Satchel's independence inform me that he might like to have some time alone. He would find a nice lake and have a good swim using his restored body. I asked him to look for me when I come. Part of me cannot wait to see him splashing through the waves again or to walk through woods and neighborhood streets with him again.
An Absolutely Gorgeous Satchel Enjoying Lake Michigan
I expected to feel relief for him to no longer be struggling, and I do, but I did not expect to feel a pain that doesn't waver for a second even when I think about how he would bark at dragonflies and then look at me as if to say, "Good? You're going to shoot them right? I'm a flusher. That's my job you know."
Satchel on the lookout, even in winter
I'm trying to be SatchelStrong, but the distress I feel is deep. I miss snuggling him, which was a vast part of my daily activity. Satchel would always allow me to smother him with kisses and rub his forehead with mine until I'd been refilled for the moment. I would say, "Thank you, Satchie. I love you." He would look at me to say, "No problem. Anytime. I'll be right here." And these words ended up being mine to him when he needed me to lift him to drink, or when I fed him by hand. He would look at me to say, "Thanks Leanne." And I would say with either my eyes, my touch, or even with words out loud, "No problem. Anytime. I'll be right here."
Photo taken by Tammy B Photography
Satchel Curtin-Hess
July 29, 1994 - June 23, 2010
July 29, 1994 - June 23, 2010
