I’ve been pretty quiet here for a few weeks. It’s been pretty fair to say that we’ve taken a few gut punches recently and I’ve not really been ready to talk about it; in fact I haven’t really wanted to talk much at all. But, I’m feeling like I can at least dip a toe back into life and try to see how to move forward and how to keep going while still trying to come to terms with reality.
This past weekend we had to bury our grumpy old man, Gulliver. I didn’t expect it to happen so soon, and I certainly wasn’t prepared with how hard it would hit me. Certainly he was getting old, but not that old. Looking back, though, I can see that the last year he was clearly much slower, much more subdued. He spent the vast majority of his time curled up in the laundry, not really wanting to interact. I’d try to make him come downstairs and sit on someone’s lap, or at least curl up on the couch and be around the family, but he’d inevitably and slowly hobble back up the stairs to the relative dark and comfort of the dirty clothes. Eventually I put a gate up so he wouldn’t keep making this retreat and we could actually keep an eye on him. I also knew he must be developing arthritis, since the stairs seemed to bother him now.
He was happy to have a lap most days, but you could tell he just wanted to go off on his own.
On Saturday he passed away at home, next to Paul, quietly. He simply stopped breathing, and that was that. If nothing else, I am glad he was home, warm and dry, and not alone.
We used to joke that he was going to live forever because he was such a mean little thing sometimes. There’s no one in this house he hasn’t bitten at least once. Nevertheless, I’m going to miss the little booger, quite a lot.
Unfortunately, his loss is a rather “insult to injury” situation, because there is even more bad news.
On Monday the 14th of this month, Cini wandered out for his early morning pee and never returned.
We’ve spent countless hours trudging in the rain and mud through numerous yards, woods, drainage ditches, creeks, storm drains, and neighborhoods. I’ve driven all over the county, even to spots that I know deep down he’d never make it to on his own, with his bad hips. I’ve posted all over the internet. I’ve had conversations about him with everyone I’ve come into contact with who lives locally. I’ve called the shelters. It’s as if he simply vanished. It’s eerily similar to how Gulliver tried so hard to be off on his own, and many friends have said it seems like he probably did just that. I am having a hard time accepting that. True, he was very old for a dog of his size and breed. He was having trouble getting around and he was getting skinnier and skinnier despite being fed more and more. He just didn’t seem close to death’s door…..but then again neither did Gulliver. It’s been a bitter pill to swallow, and truthfully, I keep spitting it out. It’s been two weeks and I am still looking for him every day. Still hoping against hope.
The only thing I’ve been able to do to offer myself any real comfort is simply doubling down on the affection and treats for the remaining dogs. It helps, but it doesn’t fill that hole.
Honestly I don’t think I will ever stop looking. Not knowing is very, very difficult.
It feels very quiet and lonely in the house lately. We’ve put up a tree and decorated, and soon I will unabashedly throw myself into Christmas. For the moment, though, I am not through with my grief, and I have more walks to take through the woods before I can come out and fully join the world again.