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.
Riverside
Animal Hospital was able to get us in this morning, which was appreciated, and
the doc and tech were superb. And a thank-you to the anonymous person - the
suspects are minimal and easily determined, so thank you - who handled today's
tab.
He'll
be picked up by Pet Plantation in Warner Robins, and cremated, and I'll have an
urn with his collar - and big ID tag with his name popping out - hanging around
it at some point.
Thursday
night was all it could be: kleenex, singtalking, water, more kleenex,
singtalking, aspirin, more water, and making Coop comfy, whether it was the big
comforter in the living room, or the one in the dining room, or assorted
blankets in two crates, and balancing attention/affection with Vander. But he
really couldn't get too comfortable for long.
He
was his old tailwaggin self when I broke out some turkey and some roast beef
lunchmeat, which he ate with no hesitation, first time I've really seen him do
that - eager, wide-eyed, chow down - in three weeks. Joy and sad at the same
time.
I
didn't want to do too much different. Plus, he's just struggled for a comfort
zone the last couple weeks. We did take a late-night walk, so I could make sure
he tinkled. We went about 60 percent of one of our normal route, and he did
some tinkling and sniffing, but ...
The
night took forever just to get to a point to go to bed. I hoped I could get him
in the bed, but he turned left into his room, and I set up the comforter both
dogs really liked. I finally went to bed around 4:45, got up around 7:30. He
got up, walked into the crate, and laid right back down.
Had
decided that Friday was the day if they could get us in.
Unless
I was dropping lunch meat onto his shnoz, he face showed the discomfort, and I
couldn't handle that much longer. He was no doubt waiting to feel good again,
and his face - expressive all the time - said as much.
I
couldn't tell him anything, that it was going to get better. I couldn't make it
even a little better, except pet him and talk to him and hope to take his mind
off how he felt.
We
took another walk, and it was then time to go. He laid on the other part of the
good comforter, and I sat on the floor with him. I guess general numbness led
to some composure while he drifted after the first shot.
Man,
to keep your shit together when things start ... You're telling him what an
unbelievable puppydawg he is while thinking about what an unbelievable
puppydawg he is, how I happy I was he escaped the idiot who had him before and
let him go, and how he jumped by fence after perusing the neighborhood - after
originally visiting us - and moved in. And how despite the two altercations,
how much of a life-brightener he was.
The
composure, as it was, ended after the second shot, and he was gone. Then, the
15 rounds of the last three weeks and of the last 24 hours hit, and an intended
lay-on-the-couch a minute turned into about four it’s-sure-quieter hours.
The
daze will continue for a bit, and Vander will do his part to shake me out of it.
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