I’m sitting here with my coffee as distant rumblings of thunder tell a tale of things to come. It’s a bit of a grey day, dismal really, but they can’t all be sunshine and roses. Our lawn is fried to a crisp so we could use a bit of rain.
Lately the weather doesn't predict my mood, Honey does. If she faints it taints the day, if she makes it to bedtime without passing out, its glorious. I’m not deluded, things will get worse before the end, but in the meantime I’m working two steps ahead of every scenario to keep her safe. Every faint brings her closer to the inevitable and I’m not ready to face that just yet. I probably never will, life without my precious girl will be less brilliant for a very long time.
I have noticed she's slowing down a bit, but she's still happy, she eats, and she wants to play although I have to put a stop to that. Any excitement sets her off, her heart beats wildly, her blood pressure drops and then so does she, wobbling on four legs and then crashing to the floor in a sickening thump, as limp and lifeless as death itself. I have dreams of her in my arms, falling limp and lifeless, her head hanging down, her tongue dangling past her lips, her eyes loosing that spark, the essence of her. I know what it's like; my Louis passed away and I held him in my arms, I still feel the ache of it.
I wake up with heartbreak crushing my chest, it’s almost like a cruel practice for that terrible day when the dream becomes a reality. I’m not sure why I’m tortured so, other than my thoughts never stray from her illness, it’s the main focus of my life, every second of every minute of every day. No wonder it haunts my dreams. I love my animals deeply, they mean as much to me as any human life, they are a part of me and I am a part of them, the bond we share is stronger than steel.
Usually she’s in my arms when she passes out. The second I see the telltale signs I’ve grabbed her up to comfort and help her through it. I’ve gotten very good at detecting them, it’s like I know instinctively when it will happen. A mother’s instinct is a powerful thing and I am her mother in every sense of the word except genetically. I’m so afraid she’ll pass out if I’m not there and just keep going into the dark night. I truly believe I help her heart to start up again by stimulating her with caresses and hugs and my gentle voice telling her she’s loved and special. Sometimes after a particularly rough day of spells, I even tell her she can go if she needs too, I’ve heard the stories of animals lingering for their humans so I tell her I’ll be okay even though I don’t mean it. Obviously she isn’t ready to leave me just yet.
She’s nowhere near the end of her life, she’s a happy little peanut, no one’s told her she’s got an iffy ticker. She goes to work with me each day and does her bit at the shop, schmoozing and playing cute. Everyone stops to talk or pet her so she’s soaking up all the attention, especially from men. She’s always been a floozy, loves the male gender and makes the extra effort to smell them and get a few extra scratches on the head or belly. It’s funny how four legged and two legged animals interact with that kind of chemistry. The bond a son has with his mom and the daddy’s girl scenario seems to apply with dogs and humans as well.
So today has started well, no faint yet. My goal is to have three days in a row without an incident, but we haven’t been able to rack up more than two. In the meantime I don’t leave her side. It’s been almost seven months we’ve been joined at the hip. No eating out or socializing unless she accompanies me and no complaining about it either. She’s my number one priority right now. I left her once for groceries when it was too hot to leave her in the car and she fainted from the excitement of my return even though I parked in the driveway and literally ran to the door, let myself in and swept her up in my arms. Fiz, the barker of the family had warned the pack that a car pulled in and had the pups whipped into frenzy before I’d even gotten it in park. Fiz sits in the window like a sentinel and keeps the pack updated on bikers riding by, kayakers in the harbour, cars coming and going at the neighbour’s, she’s a nosy, gossiping, busy body so I’ve since learned to earned to keep the curtains closed.
So we live from one day to the next with fingers crossed. I awake in the morning and see her smiling face and thank her for hanging around another day. I wake up a dozen times through the night to touch her in the darkness to feel warmth and breath coming from her tiny body. Her birthday is September 11 and our wish is that she’ll live to see twelve candles on her liver cake, then perhaps another Christmas......
Lately the weather doesn't predict my mood, Honey does. If she faints it taints the day, if she makes it to bedtime without passing out, its glorious. I’m not deluded, things will get worse before the end, but in the meantime I’m working two steps ahead of every scenario to keep her safe. Every faint brings her closer to the inevitable and I’m not ready to face that just yet. I probably never will, life without my precious girl will be less brilliant for a very long time.
I have noticed she's slowing down a bit, but she's still happy, she eats, and she wants to play although I have to put a stop to that. Any excitement sets her off, her heart beats wildly, her blood pressure drops and then so does she, wobbling on four legs and then crashing to the floor in a sickening thump, as limp and lifeless as death itself. I have dreams of her in my arms, falling limp and lifeless, her head hanging down, her tongue dangling past her lips, her eyes loosing that spark, the essence of her. I know what it's like; my Louis passed away and I held him in my arms, I still feel the ache of it.
I wake up with heartbreak crushing my chest, it’s almost like a cruel practice for that terrible day when the dream becomes a reality. I’m not sure why I’m tortured so, other than my thoughts never stray from her illness, it’s the main focus of my life, every second of every minute of every day. No wonder it haunts my dreams. I love my animals deeply, they mean as much to me as any human life, they are a part of me and I am a part of them, the bond we share is stronger than steel.
Usually she’s in my arms when she passes out. The second I see the telltale signs I’ve grabbed her up to comfort and help her through it. I’ve gotten very good at detecting them, it’s like I know instinctively when it will happen. A mother’s instinct is a powerful thing and I am her mother in every sense of the word except genetically. I’m so afraid she’ll pass out if I’m not there and just keep going into the dark night. I truly believe I help her heart to start up again by stimulating her with caresses and hugs and my gentle voice telling her she’s loved and special. Sometimes after a particularly rough day of spells, I even tell her she can go if she needs too, I’ve heard the stories of animals lingering for their humans so I tell her I’ll be okay even though I don’t mean it. Obviously she isn’t ready to leave me just yet.
She’s nowhere near the end of her life, she’s a happy little peanut, no one’s told her she’s got an iffy ticker. She goes to work with me each day and does her bit at the shop, schmoozing and playing cute. Everyone stops to talk or pet her so she’s soaking up all the attention, especially from men. She’s always been a floozy, loves the male gender and makes the extra effort to smell them and get a few extra scratches on the head or belly. It’s funny how four legged and two legged animals interact with that kind of chemistry. The bond a son has with his mom and the daddy’s girl scenario seems to apply with dogs and humans as well.
So today has started well, no faint yet. My goal is to have three days in a row without an incident, but we haven’t been able to rack up more than two. In the meantime I don’t leave her side. It’s been almost seven months we’ve been joined at the hip. No eating out or socializing unless she accompanies me and no complaining about it either. She’s my number one priority right now. I left her once for groceries when it was too hot to leave her in the car and she fainted from the excitement of my return even though I parked in the driveway and literally ran to the door, let myself in and swept her up in my arms. Fiz, the barker of the family had warned the pack that a car pulled in and had the pups whipped into frenzy before I’d even gotten it in park. Fiz sits in the window like a sentinel and keeps the pack updated on bikers riding by, kayakers in the harbour, cars coming and going at the neighbour’s, she’s a nosy, gossiping, busy body so I’ve since learned to earned to keep the curtains closed.
So we live from one day to the next with fingers crossed. I awake in the morning and see her smiling face and thank her for hanging around another day. I wake up a dozen times through the night to touch her in the darkness to feel warmth and breath coming from her tiny body. Her birthday is September 11 and our wish is that she’ll live to see twelve candles on her liver cake, then perhaps another Christmas......
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