Dog Daze

I've picked the date.

I've booked the appointment with the vet.

I wish I felt better, stronger, maybe even relief in the decision.

Instead, my heart hurts, my jaw's tight, my stomach turns, my sleep's challenged and my compass is off.

I wish I had a sign from God, or Cybil, that what I am planning to do is the best thing I can do.

It's as if we have a newborn and senile elder in the house.

She cries in the night and we answer her call.

She poops as she's eating, without even knowing.

She has a hard time getting up by herself, so we are there to lift her up.

She can't hear very well, not always knowing I'm in the room when I check to see if she's breathing.

We spoil her with ice chips, tummy rubs, turkey necks, treats and trips to the beach.

We try to accommodate her every need (her barking orders haven't gone away).

She demands attention when friends come over and she wholeheartedly contributes to the conversation with her raspy barks.

How do I say goodbye to my north star?

To the 6 month pup called Ebony I found on PetFinder when Dave was in North Carolina burying his dad's ashes?

To the witness of all things chaos when chaos reigned with two toddlers and a first grader?

To the witness of our helter skelter when 2 parents, 3 kids, 3 dogs and 2 cats lived under one roof?

To the witness of our many moves, from Wilton to Rowayton to Martha's Vineyard to the Virgin Islands?

To the witness who has seen me at the pinnacle of my joy and the lowest point of my existence?

She is the memory keeper of my family, the recorder of many life stages.

She is the reminder of all things that require routine and scheduling; like meals, walks, playtime and sleep.

She's the Nana to my Peter Pan.

She's the genie who knows my dreams within the lamp.

She's watched my children launch and become young adults.

She's seen my body change through over a decade of peri-menopause.

If she were a country, I think she'd be Switzerland.

A fraulein like Maria with the airs of Mother Superior.

Play and order, like any good governess.

Going fast on the autobahn, swimming in lakes and climbing mountains.

Kind and direct, but never overly affectionate.

She has no enemies and no favorites.

To unpack the timeline of a dog's life.

The ups and downs, and the sideways.

The abundance and the loss.

The celebration and the devastation.

The quiet and the cacophony.

She is hearth and home.

She is all heart and om.

She's a shepherd of our family.

For her last days, it's all about devotion, even with bleary eyes in the middle of the night. We tell her we love her, get down on the floor with her, rub her ears and sing her songs. With weeks to go, I try to move slow, to be present and pause in her company.

I feel the ache of a sacred reign ending. Another phantom limb to anticipate.

And, we have a few more weeks to celebrate a life that's only been loving and enduring.

With my whole blessed by Cybil heart,

St. Sunshine