Hannah loved animals. She loved all animals, but she especially loved dogs. People widely believe that dogs have an intuitive sense that allows them to connect with their humans. Whether this is simply related to their perceptive ability to observe and notice small facial expressions or something else, there is no consensus with animal experts. One thing is certain, humans and dogs are capable of very special relationships. Every dog that was in Hannah’s life deeply connected to her and she loved each of them.
Hannah was smart, small, but bigger than life for those of us who knew and loved her. She had compassion for people and loved her family and friends. She was wise beyond her years. She suffered more than any child should ever suffer. She had a profound impact on so many people. Hannah had a chronic illness that plagued her with discomfort, long days in bed or on the couch, and acute episodes that led to hospitalizations and ER visits. She received home care around the clock. For that reason, my wife and I adapted our careers in ways to best meet her needs. I was home with her as much as possible. Her dogs rarely left her side at home.
There were five dogs in her life. Two died when Hannah was young. Then, we adopted two beagle-weenie mixes we call “beanies” and later got a male Great Pyrenees. We named him Nova. The two “beanies,” still with us at the age of 13, are Nutmeg and Chai. Chai was Hannah’s emotional support dog. He is the sweetest, most emotionally connected dog I have ever known, except perhaps for Nova.
Nova was a giant, regal, majestic animal. He would sleep by the front door to guard us at night. He would lie on the floor near Hannah, when she was on the couch. His facial expressions were more varied than some of his breed; he general looked stoic. His eyes had a smoky depth to them that I will never forget. He and Hannah had a unique bond.
Hannah's first day with Nova
Nova loved to roam around the border of our fenced yard. There were times that he barked a bit too much. He paced the yard some. We became concerned that he might escape. Being close to a major interstate also was unsettling. He was born on a farm. Perhaps he needed to find a home that was more suited for his needs.
Hannah also noticed that he didn’t seem as happy as her other dogs. She loved him and he loved her, but she selflessly began to consider other options for Nova. She found a Facebook group of Great Pyrenees lovers and became friends with a lady in the group that lived in the country, a little over an hour from our house. She and her husband were looking for another Pyrenees. Everything was set up to meet Nova's new family. I believe it was on New Year's Eve, 2014. Hannah had just turned a very mature 13 years of age a few days before.
This was understandably difficult for all of us even though we knew it was for the best. We cried. We hugged our big bear before we left. Tears continued as we drove away. We became friends with the new owners, who gave us frequent updates, but we only saw him in person one other time. They renamed him “Gibbs,” a perfect match with their other Pyrenees, “Ziva.” He had an amazing life there with more room to roam, other dogs, and owners who loved him deeply.
For Hannah, early 2015 was the most difficult time of her life. Hannah spent nearly three months in ICU at Nationwide Children's Hospital. It seemed like divine providence that she found such a wonderful home for Nova before we would have to be gone from our house for so long. After her discharge in the spring, there was a slow recovery for the rest of the year.
Hannah would go on to have the best years of her life. From late 2015 until early 2019, Hannah grew emotionally, spiritually, and socially. We witnessed healing that defied scientific explanations. There were still medical complications, but her quality of life was much better. However, as time went on, Hannah became less content with her medical situation. She was attached to a pump almost 24 hours a day, keeping her hydrated or fueling her with nutrition. She had to carry that thing around in a bag and she hated it.
Hannah developed other complications that began to get worse as time went on throughout 2019 and early 2020. She eventually reached a point at which she was ready to leave this world. She loved many aspects of her life, but she did not want to continue living with these problems that were more than just an inconvenient nuisance.
One complication involved a drug-resistant organism that had spread throughout most of her body. Every time we tried a treatment course, it would get slightly better short-term, and then come back stronger. I had read in medical journals that the prognosis of infection with this organism in patients with other complications was not good. Even with treatment, it would eventually take her life.[1]
Hannah knew this without us telling her.
She wanted to be well but was increasingly weary of the fight. As an older teenager, Hannah was always proactive with her care, but once she turned 18, she legally had the right to make all medical decisions. She chose to refuse major medical intervention, other than those that supplied her basic needs like routine hydration and nutrition. She understood what was at stake. We pushed her to continue. I even wanted her to be more aggressive pursuing care, but I also wanted to respect her decision. Ultimately, we loved her enough to let her go. I supposed that Hannah in her own mature, selfless way, had taught us something about letting go several years before. She still took care of herself. As parents, we did our part as well. She believed that God could heal her if that was His will, but she encouraged us to let her go.
In March, we began Hospice at home to help us to manage Hannah's care. We have written in detail elsewhere about all of this, but this article is about a dog and his first love. Hannah went home to be with her Lord on May 28th, 2020. Our grief was intense. At times, it was all we could do to get up and find a new routine. Chai and Nutmeg were noticeably sad. The three of us, including my wife and son, found some solace in hikes, prayer, and lots of long tear-filled hugs. Chai and Nutmeg joined us on many of those hikes. We had each other but were mostly alone since covid had shut most of the world down.
What we did not know, until later, is that two counties east of us, there was a gentle giant who was grieving with us. Nova’s new owners would later share with us that he went into the garage for several days and moped. He had no interest in his normal routines. Food didn’t interest him. His companion, Ziva, wasn’t able to comfort him. He needed time. He knew that something in the world had gone terribly wrong. His first love had left this world for another.
Gibbs (Nova) and Ziva
His second love later wrote this to me privately, "When I heard the news about Hannah, I was devastated. A little bit later I went out outside to feed the dogs. Gibbs was nowhere to be found. Figuring he was in the garage, I went to see. He did not look up from where he was laying when I went in the garage. It scared me…I thought he might be sick. He didn’t offer to get up either. Really concerned I sat down on the floor beside him and wrapped my arms around his neck, he finally looked at me and he looked at me with such sad eyes I was really scared. Thoughts were whirling through my mind and then it hit me. He KNEW Hannah was gone. I said that to him: Oh Gibbs, you know Hannah is gone, don’t you? He laid his head in my lap looking at me with such sad eyes…I bawled. I told him, “That’s okay…. I know she was your first love. We are ALL going to miss her but one day you will be reunited with her.” He didn’t eat much for a while and wouldn’t patrol the perimeter at night like his usual self…several days, I think. . . . One day (maybe a week) he just came out of the garage and was back to his old self. I have watched animals grieve. Gibbs grieved HARD. It was obvious. Not a surprise to me considering who Hannah was." I don’t understand. I suppose that there cannot be any scientific explanation for these kinds of things. We can only speculate on a spiritual or cosmic level, but all I know is that while our world collapsed beneath us, there was a big dog with an even bigger heart hurting as well—a dog who had started his life with us, a dog that Hannah had picked out, loved, and caressed, a big boy who laid by her side for hours during his earliest and most formative years.
There is much of our canine companions about which we are still learning; there is much that we do not understand. Throughout the millennia of dog-human relations, something amazing has happened—the ability for a very strong bond to develop. It seems that God has given us a gift that, on a certain level, defies explanation.
If you have a furry friend at home, be sure to give that friend a hug today. He or she may need it more than you realize.
Nova/Gibbs found a way to leave the garage and get back to his life. He had three more years after Hannah passed before he joined her in leaving this world. I leave you with the announcement of his passing from his second family:
[1] We knew this because we were able to work with Hospice and her home health care agency to continue treating this infection, even during the last weeks of her life. Hospice was able to make this exception because we argued that it would make her more comfortable, which it had the potential to do. However, deep down, we also were hoping for it to miraculously change our trajectory for the better.
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