Days after I achieved remission, my dog started losing his balance and I’d find him in strange places looking confused. One time, I took him to ER believing that he'd had a stroke. Then, he started having these horrifying seizures, which I’ve since learned only happens in adult dogs when there is a brain tumor. Coincidence?
I don’t know... I just really miss my beloved pal, first born fur-baby and soulmate, Latte.
He held on long enough to get me through my own cancer and now he’s gone.
On his final day with me, he seized until he fell asleep in my arms and got one last, cherished nap with me and his pup-sisters. When he woke up, he was himself again, which thrilled me because he got to go out on top.
I had called a company called The Restful Paws that sent a lovely human being to our house to set him free. She brought him two different kinds of cat food with a palette cleanser of peanut butter because he still totally had an appetite and enjoyed eating. It turned out to be a fun distraction for both of us - sending him off with a final meal he never would have been able to enjoy otherwise because cat food is, well, for cats and can have adverse effects on the canine tum-tum when allowed to digest.
In this case, he got to have the thrill of a lifetime as he ate until he collapsed under the warm wave of morphine that I know from experience to be quite delightful. Then, she administered the final shot and I got to watch the breath in his lungs turn to air. She left my husband and I alone with him to cry over and cradle. Then we let Mari and Chevy join us to sniff his body and get a sense of closure too.
The doctor wrapped him in a blanket and let me carry him to her car where she had a lined basket waiting. I never thought I’d be this person, but he’s being cremated alone so I can keep and treasure (and more than likely sleep with) his ashes.
It was a perfect farewell, and one I would recommend to anyone with the means and the right doctor. It truly made an otherwise earth-shattering event lovely.
Fall down seven times, get up eight, right!?
I definitely planned to go into the new year running, but 2020 got one more blow in at the last second, so I’m starting on my arse instead.
I will get back on my feet... eventually. In the meantime, I'm using the angst of losing such an important facet of my daily life by writing. The lyrics are pouring out of me at the same rate as my tears - a torrential flood that is completely overwhelming.
My Spunky Cup of Joe. My Sweet Vanilla Bean. Perfect in every way.
There are so many facets to the love I feel for him. On Earth, he was made up of an amazing personality that was held in this incredible vessel. What I realized as I held his limp little body, kissed his cool lips and stared into his blank eyes, was that I had always adored those two parts as one. On the day of his departure into the unseen, I got to cradle the vessel by itself and, from now on, it's the energy I'll be spending time with solo. It'll be an adjustment for sure - but I'll always drive with the windows down just in case.