Goodbye, My Beloved Dog

It was a sad, difficult day. But also kind of perfect. On Sunday morning, my friend Kristen had passed along the card of a visiting holistic vet based out of Morris (western part of state) who turned out to be kind of an angel of death - so no need to take Elo anywhere (car trip, stress, cold, sterile). I've done that version a few times and it's always pretty horrible, no matter how nice and compassionate the vet is. She was amazing, turns out this is pretty much all she does. She assumed I got her name from my neighbors at the other end of the condo, who used her for one of their cats.

I cleaned up the space, put Elo's adopted quilt down (an old quilt purchased during a top surgery benefit many year ago). It's been my "cover up on the couch" quilt forever, and Elo had sort of claimed it over the years.  I lit some candles, put some quiet music on (Annie Wenz, a yogi / healer / musician who is a mainstay at Falcon Ridge), brought my meditation cushion down and just sat with him, breathing, metta, crying, making contact in turns. I read Mary Oliver's poem "Her Grave", about letting go of a dog, aloud.

He'd been pretty down since Sunday, so I assumed he'd be a lump on Monday, but was able to give him some beef broth, and he made it outside for a morning bathroom trip and then a short walk at noon. That felt like a blessing. I was not planning to post anything online but the vet called to say she was running behind, so I had time to take a few pictures and post some thoughts - it was nice to share it and to feel the love / energy heading inbound. I'm sort of working under the concept that all this sadness has to get out somehow and sometime, so might as well go with it, share it, express it, let it out.

The actual death was very gentle - Dr. Leah got down on the floor, I held him for a sedative shot (no drama) and he slowly dropped off asleep, then she shaved his leg and administered the final shot. No big drama (sometimes there's some hard breathing or nervous system movement).

She went outside to make space in her truck and got a small gurney, it was nice to have a few moment alone with him (no doubt planned on her part). We wrapped him in the quilt, put him on the gurney, and carried him out.

I'm not getting the ashes returned or do the whole paw print thing. I have enough stuff, his memories, his collar, and photos.

Also a house full of dog fur. I suspect Elo will be with me for a while...although now I'm faced with all the potential home improvements I've put off "until Elo was gone" - painting, carpets, floors.

I took it easy the rest of the day, a little nap, a litter walk, starting to gather up his things. Hoping to bring the food, chews, biscuits to the local animal pound along with some old towels that I've been meaning to donate, if they want them. Going through the toys, tossing some, keeping others. Packing up all the leashes and trimmers and brushes in case I find another pup. No plans either way, I need some space, but expect that if I'm meant to have another dog, it will come into my life and make itself known. He was not a big dog but took up space - I've got four doggie beds out on the deck airing out, a set of steps to get onto the bed that he never figured out how to use. So I'll be getting used to a more spartan home. 

I wish I could have taken today off, but long planned jury duty and no luck getting a last minute reprieve (where you call and they tell you to stay home). It will be fine - I'll bring stuff to read, to keep myself occupied.

And persistently, throughout the day, the refrain "This is why we do the work". So that we can meet stuff like this honestly, with compassion for ourselves, our friends or family members or animal companions, for all beings really. That we can feel the profound sadness and loss and know it's not the end of the world - that our sadness means we're still alive, feeling. But that our own mortality is right there with us.