Okay, so I wasn’t going to belabour the point (of our loss and grief), but: this is my blog “and I’ll cry if I want to. You’d cry too if it happened to you…”. Those are words borrowed from an old pop song, if you don’t realize.
It will get better, I know it will. I’m functioning … the rest of our pet population is cared for, as are our boarding dogs. Still, I feel so heartbroken that I just want to wail. I look for the family dogs everywhere … especially Lady.
Dear old McKenna was little trouble all of her life including her senior years, here with us. We all loved her very much. Near the end, we were carefully walking around her, not wanting to startle her, helping her outside and back in, encouraging her to eat, and changing bedding. I was glad to do these things.
But Lady was always at our sides, so animated and joyful, for 11 years, since she was abandoned here. She’d bring whatever ball was handy. The dog thought that even feeding the guinea pig was a delightful event, as was throwing hay to Bud, the horse.
You know how one can sometimes look back and realize there were “signs”? Now that I think of it, Lady was wandering off to rest more often when she wasn’t the focus of the moment. She had changed the way she slept in the house. And while McKenna was fading, Lady seemed unusually subdued. I thought little of it … we have a fairly quiet household anyway, and in the last month it was like a hospital zone.
The day that McKenna was put to sleep, at an appropriate moment, I made an appointment for a checkup for Lady, which turned out to be just two days hence. She stayed with Dr. Vogel for X-rays, which turned out to be very concerning, suggesting a mass on spleen or liver. The dog’s gums were white.
We were planning to wait for the results of the blood tests before deciding a course of action, if indicated. But the very next morning, this Thursday, Lady collapsed, and then moved about with difficulty and obvious discomfort. We decided that we could not try any heroic measures or let her suffer longer. Dr. Vogel did not question our decision.
Oh, how I had hoped that Lady’s ailment was treatable, but no. And now it’s over.
Thank goodness that I never went to bed without telling her that she was the best dog in the world. Call me crazy, but I would KISS the top of her head and sniff her fur, because she was the nicest smelling dog.
Thank you for staying with me while I tell more of the story. It is awful to be “dogless” so suddenly.
We have our precious “charges” around, the boarding pets, and that truly helps.
Grieve not, nor speak of me with tears,
but laugh and talk as if I were beside you.
I loved you so,
’twas heaven here with you.
– Isla Paschal Richardson