Really long post. Get out now while you can! Our dog is dying tomorrow. I can’t stop shaking and second guessing. I can’t stop tearing up. There are sobs on the edge of my throat just waiting for permission to escape. Or waiting till my resolve wavers and then, permission or no, they escape. I feel like I am stuck on the verge of always catching my breath. Khail is a big dog. A beautiful dog. An Alaskan Malamute. Which means he sheds a lot. He sheds another small dog every other day. And although he will be dead tomorrow we will be finding him with us for years to come. And for years after that. The first year we had him we invested heavy in lint rollers. You know those tear away sticky jobbies? We had one in every room of the house. We used them so much that we actually used one of them up. Nobody ever uses one of them up. Everyone uses one for awhile. Misplaces it. Then buys another one. Repeat. That’s the life cycle of a lint roller. But we actually used one up. Not a lot of people know this but at the end of the lint roller is a coupon for one free lint roller and a congratulations message “You’ve earned it.” After about a year we stopped worrying about lint rollers. Now we look at Khail hair as a fashion accessory. We laugh at people who come over to the house wearing black. They lean back on the couch and we know theyre also taking some of Khail back home with them when they go. Khail used to love being up on the couch. That was his spot. And he looked so happy there that we didn’t have the heart to tell him to get down. As his hips got worse and worse he got up on the couch less and less. Sometimes he would climb up and drop his head in my lap and kind of chuff. And I’d scratch behind his ears. Sometimes I’d help him up pushing his back end the last little distance he couldn’t make himself. After he stopped trying to get up on the couch he would still come over and sit as close to me as he could. Pressing his body into my leg. Leaning into me. Khail is the first animal to choose me as their human. When he stopped getting up he would still struggle to his feet to greet me at the door when I came home. Now I lean against him as he lies on the ground. Sometimes he whimpers softly and I pet him and tell him what a good dog he is. He’s started growing weird lumps. One giant one right on his forehead which makes scratching his ears a bit more difficult. And makes him look kind of like a dinosaur with one of those giant bone forehead ridges. He stopped drinking water. And we decided that it was time to let him go. So we took him to the vet, scheduled an appointment. The vet gave us these crazy powerful pain pills. Narcotics. Addictive. He’s supposed to take six of them a day. Three pills twice a day. And they’ve helped him. A lot. It’s like old Khail is back. He gets up on his own without coaxing or codling. He’s been drinking water on his own. We even caught him back up on the couch. We were so surprised. “Khail.” I exclaimed. And he looked up with that guilty start that dogs have when they think they’ve been caught doing something they shouldn’t be and he starts to get down. “No. No. No. You stay right where you are. Good dog. Good boy. Good Khail.” And his tail is wagging. Not the half hearted one or two thump-thumps but honest to goodness wagging. When people see Khail now they don’t see the lying on the floor peeing on himself dog. I don’t see that dog either. I don’t want to see that dog. It’s now easy to second guess our decision. Maybe we should put it off a couple more weeks. The funny thing is the pills are addictive. There are signs in Khail now. He waits eagerly at night for them. The thing is… he won’t take the pills by themselves so we have to hide them in slices of cheese. And because he’s a dog he thinks it’s the cheese. Khail thinks he is addicted to cheese. And I picture him full of urban swagger. Nah! Get that weak ass provolone away from me! I want the good stuff. Where’s that sharp cheddar? I admit to my wife that I’ve been giving him more than the three pills he’s supposed to be getting when it’s my turn to give him the medication. I counted the pills in the bottle. I knew we would have a bunch left over. I looked up the side-effects. Faster addiction. That seemed a little silly to be worrying about seeing as he’s going to be put to sleep at the end of the week. And he’s a big dog. She doesn’t say anything. I don’t know if she approves or if she thinks I’m an idiot. Or if she thinks it’s a mistake. I just know Khail has been getting up onto the couch and he’s been wagging his tail. And it’s either him or me because I am hurting so much and not feeling anything seems like a blessing right now. So you may be second guessing our decision. Maybe you think we don’t have the right. Maybe you think we’re jumping the gun and we should hold off. Wait and see. But those thoughts are not anything that we haven’t already had. Those doubts aren’t anything that we aren’t already experiencing. Right now. Agonizing over. Right now. Our dog is dying tomorrow. My dog is dying tomorrow. You’ve never experienced true unconditional love until you have been chosen by an animal. I say this with the knowledge that I might be sleeping on the couch tonight. I say this with the knowledge that my daughter might well look at me and go “Hey! Wait a minute…” But it’s true. Your spouse will be disappointed in you. You will let them down. You will fail in meeting expectations both the expressed ones and the unexpressed ones. Human relationships are so much more complicated. But Khail never expected anything from me except love and attention. And those he gave freely. A part of me is dying tomorrow too.
Posted on: Fri, 05 Sep 2014 14:52:27 +0000
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