I wrote this story a long time ago and meant to publish it, but I didn't. So here it is for you now. It is the story of my dog, McKell.
People always say to write a story while it is still fresh in your mind, but sometimes you can't do it. This is one of those stories. I tried to write it shortly after McKell's death, but it was too hard. Now, a few months later, I hope I am ready.
It was October 29, 1997, and we were at Chuck-a-Rama eating dinner for my twelfth birthday. A friend, Casey Ellingson, was at home watching our dog, McKayla, who was ready to have puppies any day. The waitress came up to our table, and said that we had a call. It was Casey, McKayla was having her puppies! We finished eating extremely quickly and rushed home. It was a crazy night! I don't remember for sure if there were one or two puppies by the time we arrived, but I do remember when the first female arrived. The Pickering sisters had a list of names that they were considering for the pups and one of the names was McKell. I knew when the first female came that her name was going to be McKell, and she would be mine one day.
McKell was actually the Pickering's dog. There ended up being two females in the litter and Pickerings kept both of them. About two years after McKell's birth, on Saturday, July 8, 2000, I finally got the courage to call Ava and ask if I could buy McKell. I called and to my disbelief, Ava said I could have her. She said, "She really is your dog anyway." I was the happiest girl on earth.
Let me tell you a little about McKell. She was, or at least she thought she was the top dog at our house. She was a princess who loved to be comfortable. McKell thought she owned my bed; she would go to my room all the time and sleep on the bed. She loved a belly rub. McKell would fall down on her back for anyone if she thought she would get a rub out of it. McKell had the softest fur; I could pet her all day. She loved to go and visit Grandma and Grandpa Stenquist. I am pretty sure this is because Grandpa would always sneak her food under the table. Her nickname was Fred. McKell looked like her beautiful mother, McKayla. They both were pineapple heads, which means there was hardly any white on their faces or that their faces were all golden colored. (Pineapple head is a term created by Rebecca Grossman.) McKell had a fitted coat. She loved her brother Joel and always took care of him, especially as he got older. He was also her favorite playmate. She would clean his eye when it was full of drainage and take naps with him. McKell also thought her pills from the vet were treats. This made it super easy for me to give her pills to her. McKell, like any other dog, loved food!
McKell was always watching out for me. She loved to follow me everywhere. As long as we were together she was happy After my foot reconstruction surgery she was always close by my side. I knew that she was there to take care of me.
McKell died quickly and quietly on Saturday, September 17, 2011, early in the morning. A few months earlier she had been to the vet; he had diagnosed her with a heart murmur. She did not show any outward signs of slowing down. On Wednesday, September 14, 2011, McKell had a bloody nose; it wasn't too bad so we didn't worry about it. But then on Thursday she still had a bloody nose and it had gotten worse during the night. My mom and I decided that we should take McKell to the vet. I scheduled an appointment for Friday. My mom took her because I had to work that day. When I got home I was told the very unhappy news. The bloody nose usually means a couple things, but to confirm either of them would require thousands of dollars in vet bills. Because McKell was so old even if they did all the tests to find out what was wrong there was probably nothing they could do to help her get better. Apparently, most animals in this situation end up getting put down because the owners get tired of cleaning up the bloody mess. That night McKell took a turn for the worse. She was having difficulty breathing and was coughing most of the night. The next morning I decided that it was time to put her down. Our neighbor Warren Hess, who is a vet, came over. He was wonderful about the whole thing; I was a wreck. McKell went very peacefully in my arms. Warren said that her heart was working very hard to keep her going. My dad then went out and dug a hole for her to be buried in. It was one of those days when I felt like my heart was being ripped from my chest.
My personal belief . . .McKell waited for me to get a new dog before she passed. Not long after I got Kate, about 2 months, McKell passed away. I think she wanted to be sure that I was taken care of before she left me.
I will always be grateful for McKell. She was a wonderful dog and a best friend.
