I Fought The Angel Of Death

It is two days since we said goodbye to my furriest child. It came a little more than two weeks after I took him to the vet to see if the good doctor had any suggestions for how to help him.

I knew there was a good chance we might already be on borrowed time because when you are a dog heading towards your 16th birthday you are heading towards the summit of Everest.

The doc offered a few suggestions and thought we might have some more time but I left there knowing that was uncertain.

So I sat in the car with him and said if I knew how to be his Sherpa I’d get him up the rest of the mountain and if not, well I do have experience fighting the angel of death.

I looked him in the eye and said I knew he wanted to go after the firefighters who wheeled me out of the house.

“Your brother told me you went nuts when they came to get me. I am grateful for that and so much more. I’d fight for you too. Alligators, people, other dogs, snakes–all the creatures we said we might encounter here in Texas.”

He wagged his tail and I told him he was still a California dog and that even though he didn’t like the ocean I would have fought a shark too.

I drove us home, let him out of the car and he went inside and settled on the floor next to my work computer. He slept and I worked.

I Fought The Angel Of Death

If you’re new to the blog or haven’t been here in a while I am not exaggerating about fighting the angel of death. If you’d like you can catch up at Death Didn’t Seem Painful Part 2.

I keep looking at what I wrote about my now departed pal and remember the sense of dread I had about his health. I see the words and look to my right and see am empty collar, look forward and see empty food and water bowls and sigh.

They will be moved but we haven’t been ready to do it yet.

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I won’t forget calling the vet to make an appointment for his final visit. I told the woman who answered the phone we were going to bring in breakfast from a place that made pancakes the mutt loved.

Won’t forget how the mutt suddenly perked up when he saw the younger Mr. Wilner hold out a piece of pancake and then another.

For a moment he set aside the pain and I smiled because I swear he lit up and then the moment passed.

We all spent a moment with him in our arms and then we made the final journey. I had one hand on his side when the vet gave him the sedative and then whatever drug made his heart stop. I didn’t have to see the light in his eyes fade though I did, because I felt his heart stop.

But before it all happened I promised him the pain would be gone, I told him to go find my father and the other family dogs, promised they’d welcome him and  show him the ropes.

And then we went back to a home that is far too quiet.

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Now we pay the price the heavens charge for the companionship of a dog. Now we feel the emptiness of his missing presence and weigh when we’re ready to move his things elsewhere because they are no longer needed by him.

If the stories of a rainbow bridge are accurate we will meet again and we’ll see him with my father and the dogs that came before him.

But for now we have to grow accustomed to not hearing the metal of the name tag on his collar jingling or the bark he would issue to let us know someone was the at the door.

We’re so grateful for the time we had but damn if I don’t wish they had a lifespan that matched more evenly with our own.

Choices

If you are not careful you might put yourself in a position to take a hard look at the choices you have made and realize you settled for less than you deserve.

When that happens you’ll have to decide if you want to try and make the best of it or if you need to cut your losses and move on.

This I know from personal experience and though it was a bitter realization it is better to be aware and awake than to pretend.

Better to caress what you always knew was a part of you and make it grow knowing that in order to do so you have to say goodbye to some things and some people.

Growth is sometimes painful but it is a good thing.

There are no hellos until you say goodbye.

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That’s Roy Orbison’s guitar in the rocking chair as he died before the video was shot. He was all of 52, I knew it was kind of young but when you are 19 you don’t realize how very young it is.

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Someone suggested that I spend too much time online and I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Snorted and thought to myself that at 56 no one gets to tell me what to do with my life or how I ought to spend my time.

Snorted and thought about how one of the best ways to motivate me to do something is to tell me not to do it.

The first nurse at the hospital told me not to break her trust by trying to get out of bed by myself. I heard that and ignored it because I don’t wear sweaters because someone else is cold.

By the time I was moved from the ER to my own room I was ready to test myself and see what I was capable of.

I told my furry pal about that and how I had rested even though I didn’t want to because I had responsibilities. I told him I conserved my strength and then pushed hard.

I told him that before the paramedics had come I thought about checking out and then decided I didn’t want to and that was when I did battle with the Angel of Death.

I told him things I haven’t shared with any other and may never speak ok. And then I told him if it was too much and he was ready to rest I understood that too.

And then I thought about the final conversations with my father before he went into hospice and wondered if the fire in the belly ever burns out.

Wondered if the day will come when my own body won’t have any fight left and wished I could have shared some of my own fire with them both, but that particular trick isn’t one I have learned.

Now they live in my heart and I draw upon their memories and the echoes of voices no longer spoken aloud.