Thursday

This morning I woke up to some unusal gifts of grace and strength, things I strung together from the oddest places, unexpected bits of courage as our time is so clearly winding down and Lila cannot be asked to stay for very much longer at all now. I mean we may say goodbye tonight. It is raining AGAIN and although I'm as sure as one can be that theTramadol is keeping ehr out of pain, she is weak and inappetant and her eyes today are less alert and penetrating and more clouded and resigned.

I called Frances (who is now pretty close to sainthood in my view) to come and just look at Bo, assess her, see what we can/should do now.

Contrary to my remarks yesterday about wanting company I seem to be sliding into a phase of just wanting to be with Dan, Lila and Alex. I am barely able to work and sleeping about 3 hours a night less than I need, so I feel rundpown and mentally fatigued. But my heart is strong. The panic is more or less over and I am blessedly moving into a place of great strength. I was thinking this morning, out walking with Dan, how tough it's been to lose the three beings I've loved most in my life all within four years(and my little Bubby-Howe, who died from lymphoma last Xmas) . But at least with Bo, she has had a long (relatively long) life, she's had such joy and fun and total adoration from me. I've saved her over and over, from her severe panic when she wa a puppy, to her ruptured cruciates at 3, then heart disease, spondylosis, renal disease and lastly, this wretched cancer. Part of this has to be related to her purebred parent - we know one was a purebred and the sire was likely a Border Collie - some may be related to her nervousness, which both Eddie and I feel predisposes dogs to certian issues - and some may, tragically, be related to living in a part of th world where herbicides are normal and everyone's outdoor decks are laden with arsenic. I've done everything I can possibly do to prevent cancers, and we've had three in two years. I admit I do fear for my DanDan, and for myself and all the cats as well. We are to have the deck repalced in a week or two so that at least is something. But with at least 50% of all dogs over the age fo 10 getting cancer, I guess its not easy to pinpoint it so clearly. Lila's tumour probably originated in the spleen, and she has some sort of nasal discharge as well - both of those were true for luke as well. Coincidence? That seems unlikely to me, but anything is possible.

On another note; Luke's death almost killed me as well, the suddenness and shock, the pain of him being ripped away from me like that. But the ongoing grace is, I am a bit of a veteran with this now, and I know a few things I didn't before. I know to pace myself and take some downtime and balance solitude with company, rest with work, indoors with out. I know not to punish myself for being able to laugh at a funny movie or be silly online with a friend - denial, during grief, is a goood thing. Luke always gave me so much strength, and it appears to be ongoing, another part of his legacy. I always expected he would still be here when Bo died, I mean he would only have been ten this August! and he would be my rock when she did. Instead, he paved the way for me to reach inside myself and see how much I could survive. We still feel the Babe close by and I believe he is close to Lila now.
But grief is very hard work.


Danny has more strength than I often credit him with - he's such a happy little ray of sunshine, and his special genius(I believe every dog has one) is LOVE, so I can overlook the fact that he's a young man now too and he's strong for me in his own way. The ability to make me laugh - I mean really crack up - at a time like this is no small talent. But gazing at him, whether hes' running like the wind in the fields out back, curled up on the sofa, fills my eyes with such love that it soon spreads all through my being and I feel like I'm aglow with it.

Or as I say to Aunti Donna, much to her chagrin - he just keeps on getting cuter.
When Dan was a puppy it seemed he was looking at me all the time - I was so sad when he first came here - and he's just sort of, metaphorically yell "BUT I LOVE YOU!!" and how bad can it all be when you have that?

Aw - we take strength and courage where we can. This morning I woke up to lila seeming brighter than in previous days, probably the higher dose of Tramadol. But as the day has gone on she's refused scrambled eggs with cheese, baby food, catfood, warmed up chicken pot pie, milk. She looks interested and then says no way. I feel from her a resignation, a sadness, not anguish, but then I couldnt let her get there. Although we are keeping her reasonably comfortable I do feel her spirits are low.

Anyway I was reading a local paper and came across the words "recovery and celebration" and I just about fell over - because this is what we will need to focus on soon - recovering from this loss, and celebrating what we had and STILL HAVE...I always promised my Bo I'd be ok after she went, and hard as that is, of course I will be.

Frances just called and is on her way over so I'd best get moving. It's good to be able to talk here, just pour it out. I'll be back, no doubt, in a little bit.