Malamutes I Have Loved: Belle

The funniest, most lovable, most obstinate dog I’ve ever known.

[from 2013]

Seven years ago, I adopted a couple of Alaskan Malamutes — Beast and Belle. Those were the names they came with, and I decided they fit. Two very different personalities, both somewhere between two and four years old, one black with white accents (Belle) one white with black and sable accents (Beast).

Since that time, these two characters have made our life richer by far, and I love them both to pieces. But I have to admit I’ve had a favorite: Belle, in her quiet, confident, pushy way, took up more room in my heart than any dog I’ve ever known. At over a hundred pounds, she still managed to convince me that she was, in fact, a lap dog.

Mals frequently live to be somewhere between ten and fourteen years old, and both of these guys have been for the most part healthy and definitely happy.

But cancer doesn’t care about healthy and happy. In July, we found lumps in Belle’s armpits. The diagnosis was multicentric lymphoma and the prognosis wasn’t good. We discussed the options with the vet, mainly no care, palliative care using prednisone, and full-on chemotherapy. Doing nothing simply wasn’t an option, but with her age and the fact that the vet found swollen lymph glands all over her little body, and after searching everywhere for every bit of information we could find, we decided that we’d go with prednisone, manage her pain and love her all the more until the end.

Belle tolerated the medications pretty well, but the tail rarely wagged any more, her frequent vocalizations were almost nonexistent, and the playfulness wasn’t there. She lasted a few weeks, and had some good days, including a few head-butts and even a couple of here-I-am-in-your-lap-deal-with-it moments, and I held her all the more closely, knowing those moments would be among the last.

One day in August, something was clearly different in her behavior, a certain stillness. When we arrived home from work, we had a long talk, cried a bit, and decided it was time to put our girl down. The animal hospital was backed up a bit, which turned out to be a blessing, as we sat out on a lovely lawn, Belle clearly enjoying lying in the cool grass. The staff was sensitive and kind, and Belle passed away quietly with her nose up against my leg and our hands holding her. We were, and are, devastated.

On returning home, Beast clearly knew something was up, ranging around the house, stopping and staring, parking himself at the head of the stairs, waiting for Belle to appear, even barking, just once. When I realized that he was simply doing, vocally, what Sarah and I were doing silently, it broke my heart all over again.

Run fast and far and free now, my lovely girl.