"A Decision  of the Heart"   By Arlene O'Neil.  Twelve years ago, I held the lifeless body of a tiny newborn pup in my hands.   As his mother, Pepper, laid nursing healthy little ones, I saw her canine eyes burn into mine.  “Please help him. Don’t let him die,” her eyes seem to say.

January 4, 1995, Pepper decided to deliver new life to the world. I provided two whelping boxes and had the phone number of my vet technician in case of complications. When Pepper entered the whelping box, I sat back to witness the miracle of life.   The first birth was exciting and Pepper handled everything beautifully. After securing her first pup, she slept soundly. As the second puppy emerged, she barely stirred. Panic-stricken, I called my vet tech. She coached me through the delivery, and remained on the phone until I was adept at breaking the sack, cutting the cord, towel drying, and placing the newborn in position to nurse. Pepper would lift her head trying to help, but fell back exhausted. Feeling confident, I patted her head and told her to rest. All went well until the birth of the seventh puppy. This one was not breathing. I tipped him upside down to clear his airway: nothing happened. I rubbed him with a towel: no response.   A decision of the heart was made. As I placed my thumb on his chest, I knew that if I pressed too hard I could break his ribs, yet if I didn’t push hard enough, it would have no effect. I breathed into his face, knowing that if I breathed too hard, I might collapse his lungs, but breathing too shallow would fail to inflate his lungs. Unexpectedly, I felt a slight movement as he drew his first breath.   By midnight, there were thirteen healthy squealing puppies. My non-breather – just a little bit of a pup compared to his littermates – was promptly named “Little Bit.” This tiny miracle pup would be mine.   The first month consisted of a hectic schedule: changing bedding, providing supplemental feedings, and screening adoptive parents as these bundles of mischief began to thrive.   Suddenly, things went horribly wrong; Little Bit started having seizures. Rushing him to the vet, I was not at all prepared for the diagnosis. Little Bit had placement problems that caused him to stumble, a left-head tilt indicative of brain damage, one underdeveloped eye, and frequent seizures due to a lack of oxygen at birth. I had a severely handicapped puppy that would soon become a severely handicapped, very large adult dog. After much discussion, I made an appointment to have him euthanized the following week. It was my son’s fourteenth birthday and I could not go home without our puppy. I wasn’t able to face the truth; our puppy had to die.   Two days later, the Alpha female in the litter discovered Little Bit’s weakness and attacked him – clenching her teeth around his neck in a vice-like grip. As I pried her sharp puppy teeth from his throat, the protectiveness I felt for my poor helpless puppy was unexplainable. Little Bit moved out of the whelping box and into my bedroom. Each time I looked into his beautiful face, I cried. He hadn’t lived. What right did I have to decide that he should die? I had breathed life into him and I had no right to take it away!   Medications brought Little Bit’s seizures under control. His placement problems disappeared and he no longer stumbled. He was smart, trained easily and there was no evidence of brain damage. The vision in his left eye was gone, and he had developed a cataract in his right. Our last trip to Tuft’s University, I left knowing that Little Bit would be completely blind in a few months and the process was irreversible. After hundreds of miles, thousands of dollars, and millions of tears, I had a nine-month-old puppy condemned to a life of darkness. What had I done?   I chose to take action rather that let nature take its course when he was born – a decision of the heart. How can a decision based on love be wrong?   That was twelve years ago. Today, Little Bit is a happy, healthy, 100 – pound blind dog who sleeps snuggled in my arms, has more toys than I care to pick up, and is guided by the eyes of his sixteen-year-old Mom, Pepper. It is said that “Blind dogs see with their heart.” If this is true, Little Bit has a vision that is unparalleled. When he looks at me, I see nothing but love and devotion in those sightless eyes.   For years, we worked in Pet Therapy and assisted an Animal Control facility with fundraising. The joy he brought to those confined to nursing homes assured me that my decision was the correct choice. Little Bit’s blindness opened my eyes to a new world of compassion, kindness and a love that is boundless. What he has taught me exists in no book, nor can it be measured on any scale.   Euthanasia is not the answer when life offers you a pet with imperfections. If I had followed logic instead of my heart twelve years ago, I would have deprived myself of the bond we share: a bond so strong that only when he takes his last breath, will it be broken. And even then – I am not so sure.     Little Bit O’Neil   January 4, 1995 – August 31, 2007   My Little Bit fought as hard as he possibly could, but just didn’t have enough left in him to rally one more time. His valiant effort was part of who he was. It’s amazing how life can change in the blink of an eye. Tuesday, he was using his front legs to walk, and Thursday morning he crashed once again. I knew his body could not take any more.   We had ten days together since I brought him home from the hospital – time spent with cuddles and kisses, and every minute was so important to both of us. My life has been forever changed by this wonderful creature who came into my life by accident and stayed on purpose for the past 12-½ years.   Part of me died with him as he was my heart, my soul, my spirit. I have no regrets and I know my vet and I did everything possible for him. She was kind enough to come to my house to let Little Bit fall asleep for the last time as he had all his life – in bed with me, wrapped in my arms, surrounded by love. I was there when Little Bit took his first breath, and was with him when he took his last – another decision of the heart. Run free my Little Bitty Buddy. See all the wonders of the next world.   On August 31, 2007, a brand new star graced the skies. Its name is “Little Bit,” and he shines brightly on us all. Godspeed My Love, until we are together again. I love you my sweet baby boy – my Little Bit of Heaven on Earth.   Copyright 2007 - 2008 Arlene O’Neil All Rights Reserved   About the Author:   Arlene R. O’Neil is the parent of a US Soldier, and author of “Broken Spokes,” a soon to be released novel. In addition to being an author, Arlene is a self-employed editor and proofreader, and is a regular contributor to www.goarmyparents.com. A member of several blind dog lists, Arlene is involved in animal rescue and transport. Currently, she resides in Connecticut, and may be contacted at arleneoneil@aol.com.