Yeah, life goes on, but returning to normal - normal, without Coop - takes some time

 

          There hasn't been much lately I've been prepared for, and naturally, the before-lunchtime call came a couple days earlier than expected.

          "We have completed the cremation for Coop."

          Daaaaaaaaammit. *Pow*

          Later that afternoon, I went down to Pet Plantation in Warner Robins - very nice people - and picked him up, in a white wrapped container, with some paperwork, and a certificate. He sat next to where he'd be, a big round metal dog container with a paw on the lid as a handle, for the ride home.

          Actually putting him in there, and adding a picture collage sheet around the container, that would have to wait a day or two. Yeah, kinda of putting off some finality, and nope, it won't add closure.

          Hell, I still don't have closure from my dad dying on Sept. 15, 1987, or my mom on Feb. 7, 1988 - and I had moved from home years earlier - or Grandma more than a decade earlier, or, well, some of us don't actually ever get closure from death, I guess.

          There have been kleenexes in about every room in the house, but a few less each day. I walk by his room and look in, and there's a deep breath, and the nose crinkles and all, and it's an adjustment to not hear the tail thumping or see him laying on the bed on the floor - sooo goofy - with his head underneath the couch, sound asleep.

          Couple folks have checked in, and the basic reality is that while the whole thing will suck forever and yes, normalcy returns a little more each day.

The short-term lingering chest-punch is just in those final three weeks where he wasn't himself at all, that he couldn't have had a good stretch a time or two the final week - even though we didn't fathom it was the final week - and more than just for a minute or two. Just the "What'rewedoin what'rewedoin what'rewedoin?" face - he was just so impish in being up for anything - and the active tail that showed his happiness and brought me happiness.

          Cancer in this case was apparently impatient. At least it wasn't vindictive in bringing serious pain to my puppydawg.

          A few weeks before this started, Vander had a good tuneup, with a solid ear cleaning, and some meds for ears and skin and a cough of some weeks. He emerged with a twinkle in his eye and more wag in his tail, and more affectionate. A week later, Coop started going the other way.

          One week of perfect pooches.

          At some point, I'll start another round of organizing of the staggering number of pictures and videos, and every so often, I'll make sure to have a full glass and go through 'em. So Coop will always be Coop, and those last three weeks will all but fade away. All but.

          I read one time that sometimes with two dogs, when one dies, it's somewhat advisable for the surviving dog to see the deceased dog, for understanding and closure. Vander and Coop weren't that tight, more from Vander's side, because Coop was a tail-waggin face-lickin pal for everybody. Until their second altercation, Coop would daily lick Vander's face, and ears, while Vander was on the couch, and he'd give him that big brother "would you pleeeease go away, brat?" look, and Coop would bounce on to whatever.

          But there was something good there, if not a Hallmark video. Alas, a few times a day, Vander will walk into the living room and look around, or go down the hallway and look in Coop's room, and then my room, and stand there for a second. They weren't best buds, but it was good that they shared a house, and some good times, and some face and ear licks, and just the life.

          It'll just be Vander and me until it's not Vander and me, and we might re-visit the dog park (when it's quiet) and maybe socialize a little more, and our walks will last longer, and he'll no doubt enjoy being the sole focus of rubs, snuggles, talk, and treats - even though he never went without any of any - again.

          There's something to that, Vander having been a bait dog, and being found by a team of phenomenal people and so fixed up and ending up with me- our adoption anniversary is Aug. 15 - and then going through those two damn January nights, and emerging again as such a special pooch who deserves nothing but tailwaggin and a rubbed belly the rest of his days.

          Man oh man, these puppydawgs. For the hound humans, the puppy people, the dog dudes and dudettes, they got us. There will be tears, but man, the smiles and laughs and astounding joy are forever.

And just like that, a part of your heart is gone

 

          A from-deep-in-a-bruised-heart thank you to all who empathized yesterday and this morning. Both of us were a little floored and a lot appreciative.  A loved one with cancer taken - quickly and young - is unfortunately too shared an experience. And ohhhh dear Lord, our puppydawgs.

          Save for a period after their altercations when they crushed me for a couple months, Coop and Vander made me laugh a couple dozen times every single day. Every day.

          You don't get that uncomplicated joy like that from people.

          Coop took a chunk of my heart with him at 10:55 today, and by now, he's met my dad and brother, both big dog people. Mom was a dog tolerater.

It was supposed to be something different for this awesome dog. Not Fin cancer

 

          Unbelievable.

          For three weeks, Coop hasn't been Coop. Went from Oprahness energy to Ritalin, like that. No smiles, no tailwagging, no eating, no sniffing, turned down cheese. For a day a half, he just laid around.

          A night earlier, Vander made a very slight 'No, I'm on his lap now' pump fake, and I started worrying if it was from that, maybe feeling unsettled or something. But they interacted fine the next day, only for the funk to start.

          He finally got off his couch, but wasn't Coop. Vet No. 1 checked him out two days later, couldn't find anything. Heartworm, fecal tests, fine. Heart and lungs, fine. Said wait a few days, try bloodwork.

          Few days later, Vet 2 did bloodwork, all normal. But still, lethargy in different forms, and a face that said “When you gonna make me feel better?”, then a paw issue emerged on occasion. Well, shit.

My awesome dogs had another altercation. One's overnight at the vet, and the other ... never thought we'd get to this point

Day 5 of 2020:

          Around 1130ish, the dogs are outside and the tone of bark is of concern, so, in my ‘jammies’ and robe, I go right out. Neighbor’s puppy has been barking, so maybe it’s a dog outside the fence.

          It’s a possum or raccoon or whatever just sitting there, and Vander and Coop are very worked up about it. I had a squirt bottle for them to get them away and back toward the house, but they were hyped.

 

From Jan. 1, eyeing a toy.

         Just like that, as I’m squirting the critter, they run into each other and get tangled up and are into a severe altercation. *Snap*

          Which happened on Day 21 of 2018. After which I said I couldn’t go through that again, and if it happened ...

  

The body operates on its own terms. So did my brother, whose battle after a stroke, and more, ended today

            Every so often, you go through spells of pondering mortality, a little more than you should, and it is then attached to insomnia, which doesn’t need any help.

            And regularly,  everybody needs a reminder of other people’s mortality. The human body, I’ve been saying for years, will do what it wants, which is often not what doctors say, predict, or expect. We all know of medical miracles still bouncing around, and poster children for proper health gone in a second.

            The body operates on its own terms.

            That’s what my brother’s body went and did. A few years ago, he had a stroke, and was living in an assisted-care facility back home in Pa. As per usual, he went forward and backward. Couldn’t really speak, but still could express himself. Things were where they were.

            Then my sister called a couple weeks. Uh oh. A form of cancer had emerged on his bladder, I think. No, he wasn’t in perfect shape when he had the stroke, but he wasn’t a big drinker by any stretch, and had gone back and forth as a smoker. There was chemo, and something else, and initially, it looked like the plan was to go with ‘something else,’ but all that would do was give him about six months or so.

            As it turns out, he had decided against that. He was still normal, despite the inevitability. My sister said to plan a Christmas trip, because it looked like he’d still be pretty good and have a few months left. When the phone rang this afternoon …

Update: Vander and Coop, 11 weeks After Disagreement, more of Life Before Disagreement appears

          Life is not like it was before Jan. 22, 2018.

          The dogs aren’t deciding when they’ll sleep on the bed, or if they’ll just stay in the living room. They’re not falling asleep on the couch a foot or two apart, occasionally one’s head up against the other’s butt or back.

          They’re not doing their own things in the backyard all afternoon, one chilling on the porch and the other relaxing but keeping an eye out for them there varmints: squirrels and birds, or a rabbit in another yard.

Just like that, two brothers are fighting 

 Dogs and Roomie a month after The Altercation:

          They’re not sitting still, proper posture and serious faces, in the dining room watching my every move upon crossing the threshold of the kitchen, because apparently I must depart every kitchen visit with something for them other than loving words.

          It’s been nearly 11 weeks – and overall, about $1,200 – since Vander and Coop went at it (and that’s all I’ll say about that here).

Dogs and Roomie a month after The Altercation: good, but not normal, and normal was awesome

            A month after The Altercation – God, a month? - it’s mostly good, and became mostly good after about a week.

            Not me. On the inside. Better, yes, but not necessarily all that good.

            It was Jan. 22 when the two dogs who had never growled at each other suddenly were beating the crap out of each other, and of me, in the middle trying to break it up.