Through the Fog

Yesterday was one of the hardest days I've had in awhile. The family dog, Abby, died unexpectedly (yes, she was old, but that's not how she died). As our pets age, we try to prepare ourselves. We talk as a family about tough decisions we will inevitably have to make, and we think we will be strong. But it's never quite like that in the end.

After a rush to the ER vet in South Austin on Wed. night, we thought she might pull through. But yesterday morning we received word that she was not doing well. She could not be transported home, or even to her standard vet because she was struggling to breathe. Mom called & everyone rushed down there.

I know how panicked it can be to not be able to breathe. Sometimes I feel that way during a hard run or tough workout. Of course, I always know that if I slow down or rest it will get better. Poor Abby was struggling so hard. She was in a cubby at the ER vet, receiving Oxygen (at nearly 50%, which is as high as they can give) as well as a diuretic. And she was struggling so hard. The ER doc said that when they opened up her cubby to get her ready for transport, she turned purple within minutes. Definitely not a good sign. When we arrived, she recognized us and let us reach in and pet her, but the wiggle in her tail and excitement we always saw from her was absent. She stood up a couple of times and leaned against the glass to be near us, wanting comfort. Was this a sign she'd pull through? Of course, we tried hard to find any excuse to keep her with us. Selfish, I know. I choose to believe she was just trying to be a good girl, wanting more love and affection from us. Continuing to be loyal. After many tears, some arguing with the parents, and loving on Abby, the decision was made.

Everyone took the day off. Sister Katie called out from work. Dad stayed at home to build a box for Abby. Mom didn't work and instead made a small quilt for her. Katie rounded up photos and had copies made, found a small cross and angel for her. I rounded up some of her old dishes, leashes, food, treats (keeping her things that were most meaningful) to donate to TLAC. Even though I was "technically" working, I found it hard to concentrate on anything, crying periodically, feeling incredibly weighed down by emotion. At about noon I decided a run might help flush some of the feeling away, and about 2 minutes in I was openly sobbing. I tried to keep going, but had to sit down on the curb a couple of times and just weep. I'm sure the neighbors around thought I was a real nutcase, but I didn't care. I do believe there is something to be said about cultures that grieve histerically. We - my family at least - just doesn't do that.

At 5:30pm yesterday, Mom and Katie went back to the ER vet to pick her up. The vet had put her in a box/carrier, and had even made a footprint in clay.

We put Abby in the box Dad had made, along with the small quilt, the cross & angel, and a photo. I mention this not to be criticized, judged or teased, but because my whole life of having pets, this is what we do. It's part of our process, as a family, and gives us great comfort. Dad found a place near some jasmine that will eventually grow over her, close to a birdhouse (where there are new chicks), and a large tree.


Afterward, Katie & I sat on her bed (with one of the cats who always sneaks naps on her bed) and told stories.

I know Abby is in a warm place now, sitting in the sunshine, and wagging her tail. And she's not struggling at all.

I'll see you on the other side, Abs.