TheBanyanTree: well, then.

[Monique Colver]

Of course you're not. It's so freakin' hard when they have to leave, and
especially when we have to help them leave. Like we're pushing them out the
door and we know they're ready, but we never are. And while this won't help
at all right now, it does get better. It has to; we can't live with that
much pain and emptiness for very long. So we adapt and the pain gets better.

I said I'd never get another dog after the first one I lost. That didn't
last long.

It gets better.

xoxo

Monique

On Sun, Feb 14, 2010 at 6:36 PM, paul <paul at remsset.com> wrote:

> I got her when she was almost six weeks old.  Half German Shepard, half
> Black Chow.  The chow shows as a few spots on her tongue and the way her
> coat can rise.
>
> It was this time of year and a cold winter for here.  I forget the name
> of the comet that winter, but it had a forked tail.  Puppy was small
> enough to drop into a coat pocket, big enough to peek out.  Incredibly
> cute.  Too cold to put that tiny thing outside when it's sleeting.  We
> had snow that winter and she loved it.  I made her a place in the
> laundry room and used a "kiddie gate" to shut her in. Don't want puppy
> digestive by-products scattered about, right?  Turned off the lights and
> went to bed.  Oh good grief!, the whining and crying and barking!  Ok,
> yipping.  Suddenly, silence.  Good, she went to sleep!  No, she did not.
> She chewed a hole through the plastic mesh of the kiddie gate and
> escaped.  Went directly to the bedroom and let me know, too.  Quite a
> trek for a critter half the size of a small weiner dog.  We repeated the
> process.  She won again the next night after chewing another hole
> (because I turned the gate upside down).  I found an old pair of
> sweatpants that night and that was her bed from then on.
>
> Right next to me.  I reckon we had a bit of love at first sight going on.
>
> Didn't want a house dog.  Got one anyway.
>
> Hey, I have a couple of her puppy teeth in the china cabinet.
>
>
> The arthritis has destroyed her knees plus a pretty nasty job on her
> hips.  It has been interesting, in a sick sort of way, to watch her legs
> deteriorate.  It started with falling up the stairs once in a while.
> But hey, the wooden steps are sort of slick.  She managed.  Her hearing
> went unless I yelled.  So we made up some sign language.
>
> The walking became harder.  You can tell when she doesn't feel good
> because that Chow Tail isn't curled up over her back.  And wagging.
>
> We went to the Vet for meds.  Metacam.  Great stuff.  Then she
> couldn't get down the stairs.  I gladly picked her up, 55+ pounds of Fur
> Bag, and carried her out many times a day.  We went to another Vet and got
> another med to use with the first med.  A potent mix.  She learned how to
> get up the stairs by going sideways... one step at a time.  She learned that
> she can't go on the dining room floor because the wood is too slick for her
> back feet to manage.
>
> We learned how to wheelbarrow around while I hold her up with my hands
> on her belly.
>
> All of the changes happened in steps... and the steps became closer and
> closer.  Like going down a funnel is some sort of Alice in Wonderland
> nightmare way.  And you know what is going to happen.
>
> Suddenly, one Friday morning, she's dragging herself across the living
> room carpet, legs straight back.  I didn't see that myself and by that
> afternoon she's trotting (sorta) around the back yard.  But the next
> day, Saturday night, she was laying on her bed in the living room and
> just staring at me.  Like, "do something".
>
> I upped her meds that night.  That helped some.
>
>
> Wilma.  AKA:
>  Wonder Dog.
>  Queen of Dogs.
>  Queen Bitch.
>  Fur Bag.
>  Fleabag.
>  Damn Pest Waking Yer Ass Up In The Middle Of The Night Because She Has
>  To Pee Or Just Go Bark At Shit Outside.
>  Maker Of Farts In Her Sleep That Will Kill You In Your Sleep.
>
> A Dog of Many Names.  Mostly though, simply, Wilma or Puppy.
>
>
> Tuesday the 26th was a beautiful day for January.  Sunny and almost 70.
> We went for a ride in the car.  She likes going for rides.  The almost
> mile to the mailbox works if there is mail in the mailbox.  No mail?
> She will stay in the car until pulled out by her collar.  Anyway, we
> went for a ride and we looked at horses and cows and goats and stuff.  I
> took the back road for the scenery.  We went to the Vet for our
> appointment.  They had some kind of crisis going on or maybe they were
> just behind.  I didn't care.  No hurry.  I've got my Wilma, she has me,
> right?
>
> Her tail curled up as the pain stopped.  While she went to sleep one
> last time.
>
>
> My heart is buried in the back yard with her.  Wilma no ka 'oi.
>
> My puppy....
>
>
>
> I'm not dealing with this very well.  At all.
>
>