What is to be…

I sit ahead of the change and contemplate how different life will be. They say you have to know when. I say it is what I signed up for when I opened my heart and home to them. Though I can’t imagine the wrenching pain, I try to envision the absence of their presence. Will I go to the door and look out, expecting her to be slowly climbing the hill from a jaunt around her beloved yard?

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Spring Cabin FeverThe Adventures and Wisdom of Pumpernickel and Croissant

Will I seek him in his favorite spots, only to be reminded he is no more?

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The Doctor is leaving... Image 21

Will I hear the ghostly echoes of her purring me to sleep at night?

DSC_7051Image 8The Adventures and Wisdom of Pumpernickel and Croissant

I rise from my cosy chair by the fire and step back so she can climb up and warm her ancient  bones. She seems confused and agitated; didn’t eat her dinner or breakfast, except for the bit of meat hiding her pain pills that I managed to coaxed into her. Perhaps small strokes are racking her brain, she starts awake and struggles to move to another spot.

Once the call is made and the plans are in place, I weep. Knowing something is for the best doesn’t make it any easier. Every pat on a head is special as I know we are now limited by a few days or hours before the end. I am more patient with their infirmities, more kind and forgiving of the “accidents.” I go about my day, sometimes forgetting what lies ahead. There are moments when my heavy heart is allowed to just rest, as my head focuses on other matters at hand. As our time grows shorter, those moments are fewer.

The hours are now gone. Once it was me plus five, now it is me plus two. No more pain, no more not knowing what they are going through. Only my aching heart.

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The threads of my life are ripped apart…

25 thoughts on “What is to be…

  1. I love you. They loved you. Next time you see them, all will be pain free, wagging tails and purring, circling your legs, leaping, kissing, belly rubs all around. When you and I get to heaven, we will have a huge farm full of four-legged beasties waiting for us.

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  2. It’s hard. I didn’t even like Sweet Clyde and I cried when we had to put him to sleep. This morning I called Guardian Angels Cat Rescue about Morgan’s cat Teela. She’s crazed and neurotic and destroying my house but I can’t imagine putting her to sleep or even consigning her to a cage at Buddy Dog. I’m hoping the Angels can help. Yes, you will look for your lost loved ones and feel the purring. Sometimes I feel a ghost cat walking across my bed and I think of Spooky. It’s hard–many tears. But you did the right thing.

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  3. Knowing they are running free and in no pain should help ease your soul. They always knew how much you changed their world. They could have been left behind and unloved but YOU changed that. All of you are better beings because of it. Hugs my friend. I’m here if you need anything.

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  4. This is my first visit here, and while I don’t know the “whys” of having to put down your animals, I can empathize with how difficult that must be. I am often astounded that the same compassion we show to animals isn’t something we can legally extend to a human loved one…well, anyway, may the memories of your shared times together warm you and keep the sorrow at bay. Thank you for visiting me…xox

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    • Thank you Grace. You are right of course that the kindness and humanity we show our pets is not legal for our human loved ones. I don’t think it would make losing someone any easier for those left behind. Thanks for commenting. I will check your blog.

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  5. Oh Martha, I am so sorry. I cried for days when Fluffy was run over and couldn’t sleep but for the image of her in a cardboard box on a blue sweatshirt with her white paws all bloody. It is the right thing to do, I know but so painful. When my Father In Law was suffering with cancer her said, “If I was a dog they’d put me down but, because I’m a human, I have to live and suffer like this.” Your loved ones aren’t suffering any more and that was the best gift you could give them.

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  6. Pingback: The Dreamcatcher… | Therapeutic Misadventures

  7. They say very few things make a grown man cry. Maybe I am a weakling but the thought of losing my two dogs makes me cry. They always welcome me home even though I scolded them for things they shouldn’t have done in the morning. They know so much more about loyalty than human beings. All dogs go to heaven . Peace

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  8. Oh Martha, I’m so sorry. I know how incredibly difficult this is, but your concern for their pain and suffering is heartwarming. When I lost my childhood dog Rags, I thought the pain would never go away. Thank goodness for wonderful, long-lasting memories. ~Terri

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