Farewell to a Friend

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

It’s been a month since the Saturday that began with such great promise.  I’d managed to get myself up early and got in a good run; 40 minutes, pouring sweat and feeling exhausted.  Not the “I think I’m going to die,” exhausted. It was the kind of exhaustion that makes you feel great knowing it was damned good effort. Longest run in as far back as I could recall. It was going to be a good day.  Changed into a dry shirt and headed for Starbuck’s for morning coffee.  The Starbuck’s drill on a Saturday morning is to cruise by and peek inside.  Yeah, lined up to the door.  Never mind the coffee I needed to get home to see how our dog Rainey did overnight. When I walked in she was lying in the downstairs bedroom.  She sensed that I was home and struggled to get up on her three legs to greet me; a good sign.

Then came the screams.  

It's Just A Dog

“It’s just a dog.”  That’s what she said.  That was her first offense.  Her second offense was saying it to someone who had had to put down her two Rottweilers within about a year of each other.  Actually what she really said was, “It’s just a fucking dog.” Which only served to redouble the offense.  This was part of a friend to friend conversation. 

After ACL surgery

Tripod

That’s odd - I’m dreaming about a braying donkey.  A few moments of confusion when I came out of that deep sleep and the donkey hadn’t gone away.  Geeze, it’s my dog and that’s not a dream.  Rainey had rolled over onto the site where her leg had once been and was screaming in pain.  I got up and helped her to sit up.  She whimpered and quivered while I rubbed her head and held her.  Once calm I made sure that she laid down so that she wouldn’t roll onto the wound again.  Back in bed I wondered, ‘Did we do the right thing?’  I glanced down and she was already back to sleep and once I calmed myself down I reasoned that this is going to be one of multiple challenges for the next 10 days or so.  ‘Don’t get hasty with doubts.’

It's Not My Time Dad

I’m not an overly spiritual kinda guy.  I pray, though not religiously – so to speak.  That is to say I don’t pray nearly as much as the wife but more than my daughter – who doesn’t pray at all (so I guess that would be damning myself with faint praise).  When it comes to praying I can’t hold a votive candle to the wife. In my own spiritual defense though I do pray for things more substantive than the elusive winning lottery ticket or the local nine going to the World Series.  And while my devotion is often fleeting there are those times when I’m given pause to consider that there may be some sort of providence at work.  But providence does have to hit me in the face – hard.

My Buddy, My Friend

You're my buddy, my pal, my friend

It will be that way until the end

“How do you know when it’s time?” I’d asked the vet a couple weeks ago.  “Well, she’ll have good days and she’ll have bad days .  You’ll learn to recognize those and then when she has more bad than good then you need to start considering putting her to sleep.”

Good days and bad.  Last Saturday (a week ago) was a very bad day.  Late in the evening I literally thought that she was dying.  The next morning when I got home from a morning run she looked at me with bright eyes; alert and inquisitive.  “Welcome home, where have you been?  Running without me?” she seemed to ask.  Sunday was pretty good.  Sunday was also the day that I decided to pull out two little left over bunk bed mattresses.  I laid them one on top of the other next to her dog bed and spent the night in my sleeping bag.  When she seemed a little restless I reached over and stroked her head.  That was in the little downstairs “computer room.”

Boundless Love

Dogs have given us their absolute all. We are the center of their universe. We are the focus of their love and faith and trust. ~ Roger Caras

She’s trying gamely to walk around the house, 

albeit awkwardly with the pink bandage on her lower front leg.  She’s eating again.  She comes around and hits me with her nose, her way of saying, “Hey old man get me some head scratching.”  There’s no moping in a crate, raising a painful paw in supplication It’s starting to feel like I have my dog back.  She’s alert again - pissed off when someone has the effrontery to ring the bell on HER door. She goes back near the open kitchen window to stick her nose up and see what kind of smells are out there. I feel like I have my dog, my best friend, back again.   She’s not totally whole yet.  She struggles to get to her feet because that one paw is still weak and doesn’t give her the leverage to lift her up.  It’s certainly still sore but she isn’t afraid to put some pressure on it.  The stairs are supposed to be off limits but Rainey saw an opportunity when the gate was left down and she bolted up and went to one of her favorite sleeping haunts. The other night she asked to go out on the back patio. So the two of us sat quietly in the warmth of a summer evening.  She stuck her nose up and looked into the night. It twitches as she picks up a scent.  Something irritated her and she barked into the darkness. I’m getting my dog back.

Old Dogs

Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.

I slowed up during the run and Rainey turned back and looked at me.  It seemed almost accusatory.  “What the hell,” she seemed to say, “Are we going or not?”  Hey miss birddog you are the one who practically pulls my shoulder out of joint when you feel the need to stop to point at some bird in a bush, I would think.  She has a beautiful feathered tail that would flip back and forth like a metronome.  Her trot was graceful and effortless. After the run we sat outside Starbucks.  I drank coffee and she lounged like a princess as she took in the compliments, “Such a beautiful dog.”

We got up before sunrise.  When she got to middle age she went day blind.  Couldn’t see past her long nose in the daylight but in the twilight she could see perfectly and so we, as my dad would say, got up with the chickens.  We ran for up to an hour. Years passed and we ran for 40 minutes. A couple of years ago I pared the runs down to half an hour.  Last year I would take her out for about 15 minutes and then I dropped her off at the house and then finished my run. The runs ended some months ago and when I would get up she would get up as well, “Sorry girl, you can’t. Go back to bed.”

Two Stories; Giving and Taking

This is a story about two stories.  Both are typically American.  Both reflect values.  One story is about values cherished.  The other is about values gone awry.  The stories tell a story; about what is good in America and what is wrong with America.  Each story is about responsibility; accepted and denied. Both stories were on the recent nightly news and were broadcast within minutes of each other.  One story can warm the heart and bring a tear.  The other story is a groin kick that makes you wonder about the double dealing we often think pervades our society.    

The Oak Desk

I recently made the decision that it’s past time to get rid of the roll top desk that sits under the window in our bedroom.  A roll top was something I’d always wanted.  I suppose I pictured myself sitting at that desk like some latter day Mark Twain; sipping expensive bourbon from a heavy crystal rocks glass, dipping pen in inkwell and writing the next great American novel.