I woke this morning at 5, about five hours after falling asleep. I can’t blame the pitter patter of her pacing for my somnambulism. Her energy is still in the room.
Yesterday, I gave her a pill to calm her before the event. I didn’t need calming. I felt numb.
There is no way that a person could go through this without having doubts. It is not often thankfully when we have control over another creatures life, literally deciding when they will die. I felt overcome with the responsibility.
It was a family decision. Her quality of life was gone. Her pacing was a manifestation of her restless spirit. It became obvious she was part schnauzer as she embodied so many of their characteristics.
A reserve. A resistance to touch. An imperative to explore. Check the perimeter.
Dr. Google advises If I was considering a Miniature Schnauzer, I would be most concerned about...
The variable temperament. This breed comes in all temperaments. ...
Potential animal aggression. ...
Potential barking. ...
Grooming. ...
Health problems. ...
Providing enough exercise and mental stimulation. ...
Independent thinking.
Independent thinking is something to be concerned about? What am I? A college Dean? Did I call in the troops to deal with their variable temperament? Did I buckle to their demands?
She didn’t demand much. Food, water, walks. Love. Received and reciprocated in variable measure.
Do our dogs resemble us or do we grow to resemble them? My daughter made the warning bandana which I saw this morning.
Danger! Total Raging Bitch.
60% Anger. 40% Poop. Or was it the other way around? More poop than anger.
Our neighbours have two cats. I’m not ready for cats yet. Besides Michelle is allergic.
I have to take this moment of melancholy and go for a walk. Breathe through it. Cue the Dua Lipa. Cue the Adrienne Lenker. When the going gets tough, the tough make pie. And crank up the Dua Lipa. That is what I did yesterday.
A strawberry rhubarb crumble pie.
This morning on my walk, I walk alone. No carrying the dog outside. No waiting while they wander, stumble or sit stunned. There are people, not many, on the streets with their dogs. I am just another lone white male. The women with their large yellow labs avert their gaze as I pass. What would I say if our eyes met? My dog died yesterday. Enjoy the time you have with them, because….you know the rest.
I am followed by two black crows. In an alley, one swoops low, right over my head. I can feel the wind move as it passes. I reach for my phone to take a photo, but the crow is not ready for his closeup. It flies off.
Am I looking for clues where none exist?
I’m so sorry for your loss, Dennis. As a massive dog lover and full-time dog walker, the hardest part of canine ownership and companionship is their relative short life spans. I’ve gone through that “is it time/quality of life” yadda yadda conversation more times than I would like. But it’s part of the deal. And It’s somewhat helpful to know that dogs don’t torture themselves psychically around death the way we humans do.
I’ve loved all the tributes to your pup you’ve written over the past year or so. This one too.
There’s no offering of consolation that is sufficient. The best I can do is to say I feel you.
And I will add, that is some yummy looking pie! 🙏🏻💜