The story of Stevie.

The date was February 21, 2020.

This was posted to our volunteer foster page:

Alright compassionate, loving, kind friends ... I have a "tug at your heart strings until there are no strings left" dog that needs a foster home ASAP. Meet Stevie! Stevie is a twelve-year-old Hound dog who weighs about 36 pounds and is completely blind. He has no eyes at all. Stevie may also be deaf, and if not, he is very hard of hearing. This sweet, loving, lazy dog is looking for a foster who can give him some TLC. He's very skinny, and we'd love to learn what he's like in a home setting. Based on how he does in the home, he has the potential to turn into a long term Fospice animal. If you can help us out, please let us know!

My [then] husband and I already had a blind foster puppy at home, in addition to our own dog, and we had never housed two fosters at once, but Stevie was speaking to me on a soul level. I could not say no to this old man, I just couldn’t.

So, an hour later, I picked Stevie up.

Our main mission was to get him adopted, so he could spend his remaining days knowing love, praying that that would be enough to somehow cancel out a decade of neglect.

Then, COVID happened, the world was shut down, and adoptions were closed. So many people were encouraging us to adopt Stevie, but little did they know … Because Stevie was a foster, his medication and specialized food was paid for by our local humane society. In addition to the hours a day it took to care for him, should he formally be ours, the costs would no longer be covered.

But realistically, no one wanted to adopt a 12-year-old blind dog in diapers, who regularly peed and pooped on himself and didn’t even like to cuddle, likely having only weeks or days to live.

Our Humane Society suggested that Stevie enter the Fospice program, which means our home would be his home for end-of-life care, all costs still covered.

Stevie had other plans. He lived for 13 months.

To be honest, I don’t let my mind think about Stevie too often. It’s too hard. I especially don’t let myself think about his past, because I will never know if that last 13 months were enough to erase the damage of the previous 12 years. I don’t let myself think those thoughts, because they haunt me.

Nobody wants to be defined by their trauma. So, today, in honor of Stevie, I will tell you the important things about him.

Stevie was not overly affectionate, but he loved a good “social distant” cuddle. When he became tired of wearing his old man diapers, he self potty trained. Stevie loved no one in the world more than his brother Bruiser and his Grandma Cindy. Stevie had two favorite activities – eating and marching. Stevie always knew if he was in the back yard (which was fenced in), or when on special days, we let him “march” in the front yard with careful supervision (not that he was marching anywhere fast). When he was in the front yard, I think he felt the freedom. He marched with more joy, with more purpose. His favorite day of each month was “Clean The Fridge” day. His favorite snack of all-time was a good cheese roll up from Taco Bell. His favorite place to lay was the Basket of Lonely Socks. No matter where it was in the house, he always found it. He loved chasing rabbits in his dreams. His nose got him into so many predicaments. He was labeled as “deaf,” but a cough from three miles away could wake this man from a deep sleep. Most importantly, Stevie became a symbol of hope to so many people, all over the world. Stevie did not let his past define him.

Medically, I am sure Stevie could have chosen to cross the rainbow bridge long before he did. We often told him he could go when he was ready. But I think, deep down, Stevie knew this was his second chance – his chance to live the life he should have lived all his years. And Stevie wasn’t going to take that chance for granted.

Stevie made it known to us that he was ready to cross the rainbow bridge on March 29, 2021, after 13 months of tugging on hearts, sharing the message of optimism and knowing love.

I hope it was enough.

Stevie "Steve" Deitering, you will always be loved, missed and cherished. I hope you are still chasing all the rabbits.