I can't believe it, but I do.
Once again this VESMB has proved itself real, real, real.
It will be puzzling to future philosophers to figure out how cyberspace most changed lives.
I think the difference was when people figured out you could send love, not just information.
THANK YOU. Your messages made me laugh, felt like hugs, and your encouragement and especially your willingness to do this tangible support for my silly but real struggle just heartened and moved me through. It wasn't a brilliant performance and I kept battling, but you DID help me keep going (or re-starting), and I got through 99% of it fine. The deadline turned out to be a bit more elastic than I thought --whew--so I have one last SHORT piece to do today, and then that's it. Back to the regular job Monday. All in all it is good!
I want to thank you individually but I hope a group hug will do this time.
I'm wrung out because yesterday morning I took my 14 y/o big old dog to be euthanized. It was time, for a host of reasons (among them me traveling soon and worrying about her pain and maybe some neglect, not fair to leave the worries to our tenants, and she had become very weak and totally incontinent and collapsed regularly), but even when it's right you know how hard that decision is. I had made it once and chickened out, and there was resistance (but no help) from my D. Not awful though.
Pooch's death was so gentle, we snuggled on her old sheepskin in the back of our van with the door up -- we didn't even have to go inside. And after the kind vet gave her a sedative, we just enjoyed the sunshine and trees and breeze full of awesome smells (for her anyway! from the pet-walking area) for about half an hour (we were the only ones there, early a.m....it was very peaceful and private). They left us alone for about 30 minutes and I had plenty of time to stroke and talk to her. While she relaxed I fed her chunks of fresh liver (not an accustomed treat so an amazing taste was about the last thing she was aware of, except how much she was loved). I am not sure she was even aware of the final shot.
Then I took her to our favorite park and parked by her woods for a long goodbye, then to the SPCA to leave her to be cremated, where the sweet man carried her like the most precious thing in the world. He kept talking to her, telling her how beautiful she was and that she was in a better place. Waaaah. True.
Wrung out and weary but relieved. Saying goodbye HURTS. But I had let two other pets wait too long and they suffered and I vowed to never do that again. And I didn't. Sweet B. had a passing I'd love to have myself (substitute chocolate for liver).
Though my D didn't want to let her go, she was also decent about it. She didn't go with me (I think she just couldn't--too many losses) but came out to say goodbye. And she went to see a friend this weekend which I'm glad about. Our tenants come back tomorrow, and I'm glad I took care of pooch without them. They mean well but the wife is pretty insensitive so it felt better to be private for old B. What a sweet, majestic dog she was.
In her prime, running across the fields, she was amazing---huge thick double coat with glints of chow red amid the black, feathered tail flying, shepherd-ish ears, collie-ish face with rottie coloring. She was just a magnificent dog, so beautiful I used to have people stop and tell me so and what breed she was. Hah! I told them, part chow with black tongue patches, we figured that much, and part shepherd mix (her stray mother looked like a white shepherd, B. had a few white hairs), and part traveling salesdog. I may have told y'all this story, but she was born in a veterinary school student surgery clinic, where they learn procedures on unwanted dogs...operate, rouse, re-sedate, operate again, euthanize. Awfully sad but probably necessary to learn. But they hadn't realized B's mother was pregnant with 7 premature pups. B was the only one born breathing and was hand-reared (they also were able to resuscitate one other) by the vet student, son of a friend of mine. So she was kind of a miracle dog. I was going to name her Fetus but at that time I lived in a very conservative neighborhood of very observant Jews who were extremely nice to me (had me over for seders and were just wonderful people) but I was already stretching their tolerance way past their comfort zone by being a twice-divorced Unitarian single somewhat wacky woman. So I decided not to try their nerves by standing on my deck yelling Feeeee-tus several times a day.
I will be 60 in a few days and feel about 80 but I know time is elastic and with self-care I can recoup. And with friends like you.
Thank you all so much for taking all those moments to send me care and encouragement, which were received so actually, as though you were bringing cups of tea (and oh, a shoulder massage)--
What an extraordinary thing, to say, will you help me? And have a bunch of kind people say YES.
with love and a very grateful heart...
Hops
