The Final Step I Forgot----

I have long known about the seven steps of grief. When the Dawg looked at me  with that look of, "what's happening to me" , I knew that she was really sick.The attack had come on suddenly. I got her to the vet and the other two post tell that story, but when I lost her at the vets, the shock was ever-present. The pain came as I stood by her until the very end. The anger came almost instantly as did the depression and loneliness.

By the end of the first week, I was beginning to make that much needed turn of putting a house, with a loyal pet as a member of that household back on the daily routine. The reconstruction and working through the grief process was finally coming to a close, but something just didn't feel right. There was still a void that had not been filled and I could not figure it out.

This morning, while drinking my coffee, my thoughts raced like the cartoon character, Roadrunner. Then my head cleared and I reached for the phone. After a phone call, I made  another call from the information gathered on the first call. The lady on the other end was nothing less than an angel. She called me back in about ten minutes and gave me the information that I needed. Within the hour, I was on my way up US 75. It didn't matter the miles. It didn't matter the gas. There was one thing that I needed to do that I  had failed to do after the Dawg's death. I had not accepted the fact that the Dawg was gone because I didn't know where she had been taken. I had to see where she was before I could accept the  fact that she was gone. It wasn't final yet and I needed to have that final acceptance knowing the general vicinity of where her remains had been scattered before I could accept that she was, indeed gone and I could finally move on.


It turned out that much as I had expected, a landfill was involved. I could accept that. There is controlled methods even in a waste management facility. Some, I suppose, could not accept that fact, but in reality, it is a much more sane method than most realize.

Before leaving the house, a big old burly man broke down and cried like a baby. I had not done that  process either. The people that became involved were all caring, compassionate individuals.Not once, did anyone display anything but compassion and care. They talked to people I could have never reached on my own and when the process was done, even the truck drivers in line at the scale were not displaying any signs of being mad or angry having to wait in line as the line grew because of me.  It was as if the universe was working together for a common cause, as it should.

It was a bit more of a drive than I had expected, but a drive that had to be made never-the-less. On the way home, there was a much different emotion than I had experienced earlier in the day. There was no question, being able to accept the fact that the Dawg was gone and I knew where her spirit could be free-spirited, was a comfort that I had not had over the past two weeks. The final step of the grieving process had been completed and the relief it brought was like a fresh wind in the county side.  My Dawg was home once again and I could let my heart mend. The pain would grow less over time, although it will never be totally gone. But now, the grief process could begin to finally end. The Dawg is now resting in peace.

Do you see the face in the clouds in the left corner?

On the Upstroke of the Hour

It's been a week almost to the hour when my Dawggie and I parted ways at the vet. It's been a hard week to get through. Things are different now. Little reactions that were taken for granted produced an empty chair for the first time in nearly fourteen years. It has been sad. It has been lonely at times. It has been heart-felt pain--the kind that comes from deep within emotionally.

The sub-freezing weather this week has helped as much as it has hindered. I haven't been outside. The last time I was outside, it was nearly 80 degrees. Today, it will still be in the low 30s. When I checked the hourlys on the National Weather Service Website this morning, It had gone down officially to 25 degrees (F) at DFW International at the 03:53 reporting time. By 04:53, mother nature had pulled up the blanket and the temperature rose to 29 degrees (F). The blanket, of course, is the cloud deck. It acts as a blanket to stop the radiational cooling.

 By now, the Dawg's cremains have been scattered, I suspect. Mom had Murray's cremains returned to her and she scattered them herself. He was a beautiful snow white American Eskimo. While I would be the first one to tell mom that what she did was the best decision, when it came time for me to make that decision, I choose someone else to do it for me. I didn't want that transition between  life and death to be passed to me in a little tin box. I wanted to remember her as I had seen her on the towel-- at the vets-- as she was so peaceful at the end.

So, a week of grieving comes to a close. My Dawggie  has moved on to a better life and I must return to moving my life forward as well. She will forever be in my memory as the greatest pet that I ever shared my life with in devoted  time, energy, care and  my love in the animal kingdom. Of course, the Dawg was more than just an animal. She was a living breathing creature that held exceptional understanding and love, sharing it unconditionally.

The Beloved Hotdog

Letting go of a beloved pet is an emotional thing that I have experienced before. But this time, it was so different. Hotdog came to me when she was 10-weeks old. My mother, and her mother, conspired together and  when I saw this Abyssinian I could not say no. With her long legs and skinny body, pointed ears, triangle face and beautiful tiger grey and black striped fur; with the solid black hind legs, I fell in love with her instantly. We traveled together. When I went home to bury mom and again when mom's marker was set on her grave, the Dawg became a high-mileage road dawg. Each trip was 1,000 miles. Dawgie loved  road trips. But most of all, she liked her territorial domain, especially where ever there was a chair that I sat in at home. Dawgie claimed that chair, as every other chair that I owned.

After a precursor with a lung infection two years ago, she had returned to normal activities until 10-days ago. She went down hill fast and it became very obvious that she labored in pain. The vet thought that she might come out of it but when she didn't she leveled with me that she had suspected cancer in the lungs. She went to sleep peacefully before the vet administered the final dose. It was painful to watch but I was not leaving the Dawg's side.
After leaving the vet's office. I could not go home. I spent the afternoon on a hillside at White Rock Lake. There was excitement at the lake because a bald eagle  had been sighted about a half-hour before I got there. I had first seen two bald eagles at White Rock three years ago. Today, of all days, the eagle was back shortly after the Dawg entered eternal sleep. The Dawg was still working her magic! She is enshrined in my heart for ever and I miss her deeply.