Okay, I’m a bit behind on posts for May, but here’s what happened . . .
In the aftermath of the fire and Fling, my dog died. The circumstances were typical for my life — in that they were crazy.
The dog’s vet of many years, incredibly, refused to put her down without my first giving a 2-week trial of a very expensive drug ($10 a pill) for arthritis. But the dog just had just been on a similar medication for a month — which didn’t work. Now I’m standing here, tell you the dog had just had a massive IVDD attack where she almost ran herself to death while yelping in pain. She is suffering intensely, has lupus and IVDD, and . . . .
No. He refused. The bastard.
So I took my dog home. She had three more IVDD attacks in the night. By the last one, she was unable to walk. She could only lay there and bark in severe pain (despite my giving her pain pills).
The next morning, I called a mobile vet, a woman vet. She agreed the dog was suffering and put my dog down — in my dining room (not on the table!) — the next evening.
That was Wednesday.
Friday, I contacted a local chow rescue group and gave them my particulars. Sunday morning they found me a good match (although she had K-Cough and scheduled to be put down that afternoon because the shelter doesn’t treat!). I called the shelter, said I would take the dog, and Tuesday I picked a young, adult, red chow* and golden retriever mix.
Yep, that’s right. One week after my beloved black chow* border collie dog died, I brought home a new one.
I’m not heartless. I’m not afraid to feel the pain of loss (of pets or people). I do feel it. But there’s a world of people, places, creatures, things to be loved. Why deny them? Why deny myself?
I have some friends who have yet to replace their dog — which died 4 years ago. Such a waste. I have some friends that are still thinking about their ex, 3 years later. Or the job they lost. Or the place they once lived. Or . . . .
You only get so many days on Earth. Why would you want to spend more than a few in grief? What’s the point of that?
From one of my wise old Jewish friends, I learned you have to bury what’s dead within 3 days and go on living. More than 3 days, and there’s a danger you’ll hang on to something in a way that’s unhealthy.
Real living things are all around, waiting to love and be loved. Images of things lost are only images. And therein lies their treachery.