Waiting for the Pain to Subside

Before I put my dog down, the vet went over everything that would happen. According to him, Shep would be given a sedative, but what he would be given would be an overdose of the sedative. The sedative would allow him to slowly fall asleep with no pain.

Maybe they should offer the option of a sedative to the owners as well. Not an overdose, of course, but just enough to help the pain go away. Perhaps something that you could self administer  with the push of a button every time you hit one of those painful moments. Someone says "sorry about your dog" (push); you need to put away all of his toys and grooming combs (push) and figure out what to do with all the dog food you just purchased before he died (double push.).

I am not serious, of course. I also know that going through the pain is helpful. It is a necessary part of the grieving process. And I know crying, even at the worst possible times, can be helpful, too. I just spent an hour talking to my apartment manager who had lost her own dog less than a year ago. She patiently listened to me and understood my need to break down every few minutes. That in itself made me feel better.

Killing the pain seems easy, but I know you never kill the pain; it comes back when you least expect it. Processing it, while difficult, is best. In time, the painful reminders will be replaced by warm memories of a wonderful companion who brightened by life in the years he spent with me.

A Time to Be Born; A Time to Die

When I moved into my house in 2000, I had promised my son that we could now have pets. The first was a black and white cat, Crocus, who we adopted from the woman who had lived in the house next to our previous apartment.

About a year later, we adopted a black, brown and tan rescue Australian Shepherd/Border Collie mix. The name he was given at the agency from which we had adopted him was "Shep." My son decided we would stay with that name, and so it was; he was Shep. The first night, he hid behind the unlit wood stove. However, he started to come out of his shell, and not long after that, he was traveling in the back seat of my car, gnawing on the seat belts and door locks, and barking whenever we would stop and he would see another dog.

He was very active in the house, and loved the back yard. It often took several hours to get him into the house once we had let him out in the evening, regardless of whether it was summer or winter. Once a wind storm had knocked down part of the fence. I didn't realize it when I first let him out, but a short time later, I was watching him from the kitchen window, and saying "He's not going through that fence, he's not going to go...oh, damn, there he goes." Shep was afraid of everyone, though, so he was walked home by a neighbor who walked behind him, and "scared" him to the right property.

After I lost the house and moved on to my apartments, he patiently sat by my son's side in the Budget rental truck. He made it through 2 more apartment moves after that, each time being patient and never making a fuss.

When we moved to this apartment, I was glad he had a lake with a path that he could walk on. He loved his walks, especially in the summer, when he could chase chipmunks and squirrels. He was slowing a bit by October, but still up for his walks. In November, though, he started stumbling more and the walks were slower. Mid-November was when we started to take him to the vet, and I spent as much as I could to find out what was wrong with him.

Today I found out that his liver and kidneys were failing. He hadn't eaten a meal in three days, and hadn't eaten a full bowl of food in several weeks. He was losing weight rapidly and becoming lethargic and listless. It was time to put him down.

As Shep was the first dog that I owned from puppyhood to senior, I had never had to do this. I was glad my son drove out from Batavia to witness this with me. He cried as much in the hours that he was here as I had been crying in the past few days. I was fortunate that I had been able to prepare as I saw Shep's condition deteriorate. He had to deal with in within a few short hours.

I was amazed how peacefully Shep slipped away from us. No pain. He was there one moment, and then I saw him go limp in the vet tech's arms, and I knew. No fear in his eyes at all. Just slipping out of this world, into, I hope, a better one. One without pain. One where he can run free without collar, leash. One where he can take as much time as he wants sniffing everything, chasing rabbits and squirrels. One where he is happy and free.

The Year of Letting Go

This has been a tough year, although I can see how much I have grown in just 12 months' time. A year ago, I was still trying to end a long term relationship. Here I am a year later, and I have not only fully let go, but I have accepted that he has moved on (something I kept hoping for, but you never know exactly how you will react until it actually happens.)

As the year comes to a close, I am also working up the courage to let go to my companion of the past 12+ years; my dog, Shep. He was doing good until this fall, when his health suddenly went bad. I have taken him to the vet more in the past 2 months than I have in the past 3 years, and while it has taken quite a hit on my bank account, I don't regret it in the least.

He has lost interest in food, and has had a very hard time getting around. I am finally accepting the fact that I may need to say goodbye to him in the few short days before the year ends. Yes, I have been crying each time I take him in, but I realize the tears are for myself. I know that he will be happier once he gets to that point where he is past the pain.

Letting go is a bitch, but it is a necessary part of life. This is my lesson for 2014. I will need to see what 2015 will bring.

The Winter of Our Discontent

November was rough here. It was bad enough that we got 6 feet of snow in a few days, and the roads were closed for a week. But, even worse, during that time my dog's health deteriorated rapidly, to the point that I thought I was going to have to send him off to "dog heaven" by Thanksgiving Day. Fortunately, as soon as the roads opened, I got him into a local pet hospital and he was put on analgesics and anti-inflammatory drugs to help with what was, apparently a serious onset of arthritis. Unfortunately, I paid out with the money that I was planning on spending to visit my brother and his family for Thanksgiving (as well as much of my Christmas money.) I also had to juggle my finances a bit; some loan payments would have to wait.

My dog was fine for 2 weeks, then the anti-inflammatory drugs ran out, and I couldn't afford to go to the expensive pet hospital (although, fortunately, the analgesics that I had spent a good amount on, were still holding out; as long as I could trick my dog into taking them, those would help a bit.). This week his walks were shortened to about 1/4 of the usual distance, as he slowly and stiffly made his way to the end of the apartment drive and back. He also started to relieve himself indoors at night; I spent the better part of the last two days trying to clean this up, and, today, splurged and got one of those indoor fake grass "pet potties." I am hoping that will help!

Monday he starts with a new doctor (one with a less pricey location.) I have already started to eat more cheaply (ground beef rather than steak or other cuts of beef; more macaroni; possibly some Ramen soup.) I'm trying to lose weight anyway, so, why not? My son's birthday is next week, and he is still getting a present. He has helped me survive the past year; he deserves this.

I know things will change eventually. Some things are changing already that may help. With my son's birthday, he turns 25, so I will be paying less for our car insurance. The loan from work that I have been paying off for the past year comes to an end soon, and that along with my recent pay raise will help. I have to remember that it just takes the little things like this to turn things around. As I have been saying throughout this blog, things can only get better. Right?

Who I See in the Mirror

It's funny. For the longest time, when I would look in the mirror, the person I would see would look like this picture (below). However, whenever I took a picture of myself (or anyone else took a picture of me), I always looked heavier. The face was fuller. The body was larger. I would look and wonder - who was this person? Not me, certainly!

I hid behind that excuse for a long time. Then I decided to do something. I started to work out more seriously. I mean, yes, I was working out already, and I was probably in better shape inside than I had been in a while.

But I decided to pay the extra money and join a gym, and it was worth the expense. The person I see in the mirror now is also the person I see in my pictures. And I am inspired to continue.

I've added more cardio to my workouts (I was at around 22 minutes and now I am close to the 30 minutes necessary to really make a difference.)  I work out at home on most of the days I don't get to the gym, so that I am, on average, working out at least 6 days a week (and working to make that 7.)

And maybe I'm selfish, but I don't do this for anyone else. I do this so that I can look at the person in the mirror and say "I remember you! Yeah, you're the person with the body I remember!"

I like that.

Because That Is Who I Am

I just had another dating opportunity end before it got started. Of course it was on the site, and we seemed compatible, then there was this mix up with the messages, and it seemed he wasn't able to respond to mine, except for one message that got through, which stated that he had written several  within a short period of time that hadn't gotten to me, and he sounded a bit panicked about it, and, right away that made me a bit nervous. I mean, I wondered why he was so desperate to get through to me. So, I wasn't too concerned when he finally did get through after I checked with the site, and questioned their practices of possibly blocking messages (and, okay, not my finest moment) and he told me there was just a mix up and he was already talking with someone else.

But I had this moment of clarity in all this. Before he responded with that last message, I decided to send a message, saying if he wasn't interested, that's fine, and explained in quick detail that I had extricated myself from an obsessive relationship and wouldn't do that to anyone else. But I did one more thing.I noted that I sang in a choir in my church. Part of me did that in case he wasn't able to contact me; he could come see me. But a big part of me did it because I wanted to put it out there that this is an important part of my life, one of the things that gives me pleasure, and, well, that's who I am. And, I guess, I needed to know if he would accept me,  just as I am.

Well, as I said, he went his own way. And, although I was a bit frustrated after all the effort I put into finding out what the problem was, I was sort of relieved, too. There was this tension of not knowing if this was right or not, and it was answered for me.

It is tough, sometimes, being alone. But I think it is more difficult to be with someone just for company; someone who you can't be yourself around. I would rather be alone, and know that, eventually, someone will want me just because of who I am.

Where I Should Be Focusing

I've probably gone over this in my blog before. In fact, I am fairly certain of it, because I know this is an area that I need to work on and keep coming back to.

It is very easy for me to note the issues of everyone else, especially the men I am dating. this one isn't interested ("he must be superficial/interested in appearances/emotionally unavailable") and that one is too interested ("emotionally needy/clingy") Yes, I can come up with what I assume to be their faults quite easily.

Looking at myself and finding fault? Now that's more difficult. I can, of course, look at the extra pounds of weight that I strive to shed with each trip to the gym. But I am not looking deep enough, and part of me knows that.

What about me? How do I appear to others and what do I need to work on? If I make certain choices, I could appear to be just as superficial. I may be emotionally needy at times, when I show that I long for conversation.

I can't be perfect, but I can keep learning more about myself, and keep working to be better.