The Horn Family: Our Darla

We said our final goodbye to Darla on December 7th 2015 at 11:16 PM.

She and Molly had escaped from my parents' side yard moments before she darted off the sidewalk to be with my brother working on his new van across the street. She was just a few feet from the curb when a car hit her and kept speeding down the road. Jamie heard her desperate cries and turned around to find her staring squarely at him and fighting to stand to get to him. He scooped her up and grabbed Molly, who was still on the sidewalk near the mailbox and ran inside to get my parents. Cradled in Jamie's arms, Darla calmly rested the whole way to the Emergency vet. There, they determined she had a herniated abdomen, broken leg and broken pelvis.

Nick had just left after dinner to go back to the Business School to study for his dreaded Finance final not twenty minutes before he returned home. I was sitting on the floor of the twins' room with one baby on each knee reading them a bedtime story when Nick told me he needed to talk to me downstairs. I asked if everything was ok and he said "No." When we got downstairs, he held my arms and said, "It's Darla." Which was all he needed to say before my legs failed me and I was writhing on the floor pleading with God that it not be so. He went on to tell me that she'd been hit by a car and her injuries were substantial but that she was still alive. We needed to make a decision if we'd spend the estimated $15-$20,000 to complete the necessary surgeries. Nick, a tough man with a tender heart for animals, was nearly decided that we needed to push ahead with the surgery. I was so worried about Darla's quality of life, but we both knew that couldn't make the decision without all of the information and laying eyes on our precious girl.

Thankfully, Bridie and Dave had not yet left for their month-long trip over winter break and Bridie came over to watch the three littles while Emmy, Nick and I drove out to the east bay. It became clear very quickly that Emmy was not emotionally ready for this and Nick and I weren't ready to answer her questions. We were so grateful that Kris and JP took Emmy in on our way to the vet. She was consoled by her beloved auntie, uncle and cousins and Nick and I could focus on the decision we needed to make.

We arrived at the vet, tear-stained and with pounding hearts, we were led to a room filled with an over-stuffed chair and loveseat and pamphlets on losing your pet. They took us back to see Darla laying peacefully on her side in a kennel with a pink fleece blanket covering her body. She tried to raise her head when she saw us and then settled down drifting in and out of sleep. There are not words for how difficult that moment was. The vet, Dr. Jason, explained to us once more that her injuries were substantial, but fixable. While he couldn't promise that complications wouldn't arise, from what he could tell, she could, after 6 or so weeks of recovery, go on to lead a healthy, active life. The main consideration was the financial commitment. Nick was convicted that we should proceed with surgery, and give her a chance, that our savings would cover the expenses. Trusting him, I agreed to the surgery.

Dr. Jason left to draw up the consent papers, and I couldn't help but wonder what God wanted us to do. I felt an urge that we pray, and ask Him, if it is His will that Darla pass, that she do so before the surgery. So we prayed. Twenty minutes later, Dr. Jason came in with a concerned look on his face. He had repeated Darla's assessment and found that she had defecated on herself-revealing that she had no muscle tone, her posture was of great concern and a test to reveal her deep pain reflex showed that she had none. He was convinced that he had had a major spinal cord injury and even in the very best case scenario she would never walk again. God had answered our prayer as gut wrenching and devastating as it was.

They carried Darla to us, wrapped in cozy blankets. We held her, stroked her fur and sang her "Oh my Darla," a song I'd sing her every day. We kissed and talked to her, thanking her for being such an amazing girl and promised her that we'd take care of Molly for her and that we'd see her again.

Dr. Jason came in with the syringe and just moments after he injected it into her IV, he nodded to confirm that she was gone. It all happened to fast. He left us to hold her and cry. We snipped a locket of her fur, which is something that I will forever cherish.

The kids have had a really hard time with it. They miss her terribly. I think in some ways God was protecting our hearts in that she hasn't lived with us for the past 6 months. The most difficult part of being here, is the fact that our family is separated. We are so grateful to my parents and Jamie for taking such wonderful care of our girls, but have been counting down the minutes until we can all be together under one roof. The children pray for Darla every night. The first several nights, Emmy cried herself to sleep because she missed Darla. Just last night, Julia was asking me over and over again where Darla was and she finally seemed somewhat satisfied with the answer that Darla is with God. I know that time will heal, but for now, we hurt and we miss her so much.

I will always miss nuzzling my face into her soft fur. I will always miss feeling the weight of her body in my arms and using her back as a pillow. I will miss her little pom-pom tail waving around whenever she was happy. I desperately miss how I could cradle her like a baby and she would trustingly lay outstretched on her back so I could rub her belly. I miss how she would sit at attention with her nose pressed to the door and wait for Nick or I to walk back in. I miss dearly how she would be the little spoon when we were sleeping. I feel compelled to write as much as I can to remember my Darla, I am so worried that the memories will become more distant and I will forget them.

I was ready to have babies the moment Nick and I were married, but in an effort to hold me off, he agreed to a puppy. He wanted a big dog, but with his intense training schedule and frequent trips and deployments, I knew I preferred having a little dog that wouldn't need quite as much exercise and stimulation and that I could travel with as I was traveling to work in California every 6 weeks. Kris and JP had a little hypo-allergenic toy poodle, PJ, and I loved him and focused my search on a puppy of the same breed. Nick's one stipulation was that we rescue a puppy, something that I whole heartedly agreed with. I searched high and low on petfinder.com for months without any success.

Mom and I were visiting a very pregnant Kris in Naperville, Illinois on August 7, 2007 (Nick's 27th birthday!) As was my daily routine, I checked petfinder.com as I was getting ready that morning and adjusted the search to the local area. As luck would have it, Molly (previously named Ashley) and Darla's (Snowflake) pictures popped up and an in-home shelter in Joy, Illinois, a three and a half hour drive from Kris and JP's home. Mom and Kris were as invested in my search as I was and it wasn't long before we were piled into my car headed to Joy.

We arrived and found Molly, a bit of a loner, hiding behind the kennel and Darla running around in the middle of the pack of dogs. My Mama's heart was immediately drawn to Molly, seeing that she could really use some love. While Mom was smitten with Darla. Come to find out they were litter mates, rescued from a breeder who couldn't sell them because of their defective knees. I was so saddened by the prospect of separating them, knowing how awful it would be if someone separated my Kris and I for the rest of our lives. I tried calling Nick to see if I could bring them both home, and kept getting his voicemail. I tried calling Poppy, thinking that maybe he could make the decision for my Nick, being his father and all (I was desperate!) Thankfully, Nick finally called me back and said that I needed to bring them both home.

They were teeny-tiny little puppies, born on June 9th 2007, and, at eight weeks old, were both just over 1 pound. While I drove home, Mom held the white puppy and Kris held the black puppy and we decided on their new names: Darla and Molly, respectively.

They were such brilliant practice for having children. Nick and I were challenged to work together like we never had before with puppy training. They quickly became our favorite thing to talk about, and we would regale our friends with Molly and Darla stories at dinner parties like one would brag about their children.

They grew out of the puppy stage and their distinctive personalities emerged. Molly is the high-strung, rule-following alpha, and Darla is the mischievous, laid-back sidekick. Before traveling with kids, I practiced with the dogs, flying with them frequently between Tennessee and California for work. It was always exciting for them to start barking, or worse yet, get into a tussle in the dog carrier under the seat in front of me. But we were a trio, we went everywhere together.

Nick was gone so much in the early days, that it was usually just me and the dogs. They kept me company in everything I did and kept me warm at night. They'd flank me on the couch while I watched TV or worked on the computer and slept, Darla between my legs and Molly next to my right hip every single night. They were with me through everything. The night that Nick called me from Afghanistan to tell me that there'd been a crash and we'd lost soldiers, I cried desperately into Darla's back. They offered solace when no one else could.

They were so sweet with every new baby that arrived. Their places on the totem pole were taken down notches, but they were always so gentle and loved to be near the new babies. Being on the couch for the better part of the 35 weeks I was pregnant with the twins was made better by my two canine heating pads. I'll never forget laying on the couch in labor with the twins. I was preterm and scared and hurt so badly. The big girls were at Mom's Day Out and I was trying to decide when I should go to the hospital, they listened while I waffled between talking through my decision and breathing though the contractions. They kept me company for every single night time feeding, and assumed their positions accompanying me for every pumping with the twins.

They were always so funny together. Molly would assert herself as the alpha, not letting Darla eat until Molly got her mouthful of food, and Darla would comply. Molly would sometimes sit on Darla's back and Darla wouldn't budge. They would cuddle in one dog bed when they spent time in the laundry room. Molly has an uncanny ability to climb over baby gates and when I mistakenly would only secure one gate (instead of the necessary two) Molly would climb out and leave Darla on her own, which always prompted loud barks from Darla to alert me to Molly's whereabouts.

Darla had a penchant for shredding paper, and for humping my leg when she got anxious. It drove me nuts, but it was uniquely Darla. Darla had an insatiable appetite for table scraps, and was always at the ready every time anyone sat down at the table. She so loved it when the kids started feeding themselves because they always generously shared their food with her. Darla's appetite sometimes got her into trouble- and Nick became very proficient at inducing vomiting after Christmas Day 2009 when Darla ate almost a pack of Trident gum. I've always said that I was coming back as Darla in my next life, she was masterful at finding a cozy place and melting into it. Her favorite place to be was the the back of the couch or in a giant pile of laundry (which are plentiful in our home.) She loved laying in a patch of sunlight on our hardwood floor. She was so funny how she'd lay on her belly with her hind legs stretched out behind her. Molly and Darla both would climb onto my calves while I scrubbed the floor on my hands and knees, it was the funniest darn thing.

Darla sat on my lap for most of the drive to California. Mom and I got a good laugh when we pulled into the front of the Drury Inn in Amarillo, Texas, and I stepped out of the car to find the Darla had slept so soundly that she had an accident on my lap. Walking in to the check-in desk with a giant wet spot on my crotch was memorable to say the least.

Driving away from the shelter with Molly and Darla was a profound moment for me. It was my first taste of motherhood. These puppies were helpless and relied on me to meet all of their needs. I was truly overcome by the responsibility and really scared of it. But I loved them so much already that I was so fearful that something bad would happen from which I couldn't protect them. This all is such a nightmare realized and it cuts so deeply. But I understand that there is so much risk in opening your heart to love, but the joy that can come with it is so worth it.

I spent the says after she passed away searching everywhere for all the pictures I could find of Darla:

At the shelter in Joy, Illinois. August 7, 2007. "Snowflake" and "Ashley."

The car ride back to Naperville, Molly in Kris' very pregnant (with Andy) lap.

Mom cuddled Darla the whole way back.

First night with our new babies.

Back at home in Tennessee.

Darla would chew holes through baby gates.

Welcoming Andy!

We started off kennel-training these two, but, as first-time parents, we found we got better sleep if they slept with us, so they ended up sleeping with us every night from early on.