grief is sneaky

I'm 24 days into life without my dog, and I still habitually look for him when I break open a hard-boiled egg to give him the yolk.

a euology and a requiem

My Eli is gone. I have his paw prints in clay on my bathroom counter. I have his empty bed kicking around my room, as it has been for years. I have his leash, his food bowls, his sweaters, his tooth brush, a clip of his fur in a baggie. I have more than eight years of good (and admittedly not-always-good) memories. Tomorrow, I will pick up his crate and a tiny box of ashes.

***

All his life, I had nightmares about his demise. In all of these terrible dreams, he was afraid and suffering and I was powerless, screaming, unable to reach him, forced to see his panic and hear his cries. Over and over and over, for eight years, I watched Eli die dozens of terrible, miserable deaths. I would wake up crying, pulse pounding, often shaking, and reach for my tiny companion. He would always be there, drowsy and asking for a belly rub. It was just a really bad dream.

But last Thursday, it wasn’t a dream. It was a terrifying reality, playing out inches in front of me, and reality was worse than I’d ever imagined. The attack, the worst surprise of my life, happened so close and so fast that it still takes my breath away. For eight years I’d been anticipating that moment, and yet in all those years of rehearsal, I never learned how to stop it from happening. Powerless and screaming, as always, I couldn’t stop it.

I’m so sorry, Eli.

Tiny Eli, in shock and suffering desperately from his wounds, heard me and trusted me enough to haul himself into his crate. I held hope close on the way to the vet, but I also knew. He wouldn’t be coming home. No animal could have survived the attack I’d witnessed from mere inches. When the vet found no internal damage from teeth that went all the way through his tiny body, I was dumbfounded. Maybe there are miracles and maybe God was giving us one. I thought...

And then he wouldn’t wake up. I went back and met the vet who had been working for an hour just to wake him up. Had he been shaken? We all cried.

My choices were heroics that would most likely fail, or cradling him in a peaceful goodbye.

***

The afternoon we met, Eli chose me. Our first moment together, he nestled himself in my lap. Our last moments of normal life were spent together, me kneeling at the door, him in my arms, cut short by a long-awaited nightmare that charged at my left elbow. Our last moments together with him fully alive were in the car, the car he loved so much, me sobbing and talking to him, my Eli in unbearable pain. His last moments of real awareness were probably in a back room, surrounded by people he didn’t know but who cared about him very much.

Did he know they were helping him? Was he looking for me? Did he even know they were there, or that I wasn't?

We tell each other that “they can hear us” or that “they know these things.” I say it, too, but I don’t buy it.

I hope I’m wrong. I hope he knew, on some level somewhere, that these scary people in this scary place were safe, that they loved him and were doing their very best to help him live. I hope he knew I was with him when he took his last breaths, and that I was still taking care of him, and that I loved him very much. I hope those comforts were his last memories. I hope.

Precious Eli, I am so sorry. I am so very sorry I couldn’t stop this from happening to you. I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you everything would be ok. I’m sorry. I'm so sorry. You didn’t deserve this. I’m so sorry. I miss you, Eli. I love you. I’m so sorry.

***

My priest, when I told her about what happened, said that these are the things we can only live through. There’s nothing we can do but simply keep ourselves alive as we endure the seemingly unendurable. There’s no point that I’ll “be ok” with this, or get a handle of it, or just deal with it – I must simply live through these days until I’m able to do more.

Now I’m hobbling around my house as often and for as long as my wounds will permit, limping around the place where my little dog and I lived together and where we lost each other. It’s unbearably quiet here, with my son at his grandparents and my roommate at a conference. I need to move things around and put things away and change the way everything looks so that I can, someday, walk into my kitchen and not want fall to the floor and sob.

Soon my son will be back from his weekend away, and I will try to explain to him what death is and tell him that we can still love Eli and talk about Eli and look at pictures of Eli, but that we can’t kiss him anymore because he’s not here and he won't ever be here again. I will watch him closely, see how he has changed, wonder how much he saw, find him a helper to heal his little heart. Soon my roommate will be back with her sweet, sad dog who witnessed the whole thing from the other side of a window, and she and I will be gentle with each other or we will avoid each other or maybe we will do a little of both. And I will all the while try desperately not to get attached to this furry four-legged girl, as I will try desperately not to get attached to anything or anyone ever again. How could I live through this another time?

Soon, I hope, I will stop losing my breath when I close my eyes and suddenly relive what happened. I will stop scanning for the spray bottle when the doorbell rings. I will stop expecting to hear the jingle of dog tags when my laptop snaps closed, once the cue for bedtime. I won’t wake up in the middle of the night, no longer having to coerce the heaviest 8-lb. dog in the world off my feet or my neck or wherever he’d inconveniently lodged himself. It won’t seem weird that I can enter my house in silence. I won't wonder if this hair is the last dog hair I'll find on these pants or in this corner. I won't be obsessed by all the minuscule decisions that led to this tragedy, wondering why and how and why again. I won’t lose my vision to hot tears and falter, whispering how sorry I am, that I am so sorry, you didn’t deserve this, I love you, I’m so very sorry.

Someday, maybe soon.

But for now, I trace a set of paw prints with my finger, I nudge a clip of fur and hear the echo of a memory of a toddler saying "eee-yi very soft like a bunny." I am simply living through this loss. 

eee-yi

I have a dog. I call him Eli. Gabriel calls him eee-yi, which is close enough for us.

Eli is a papillon. The papillon breed is the descendent of a type of spaniel, which gave me a chuckle when I learned it because historically I have not like spaniels at all, and yet I love the breed and I really love my own little guy.

Papillons are a tiny breed, and as such they are plagued with common tiny breed problems like bad teeth, bad knees, and a propensity for yapping. Eli is no exception to any of these, though he’s come a long way on the yapping front. (Most days.)

Eli is deep into middle age. The expected lifespan of a papillon is stated about 15 years, though in my experience most of them go to about 12 or 14. Eli is 8, halfway to 9. He’s slowed down some in recent years and the health issues come with a little more frequency than I’d like. Every time I sense something’s wrong, I get a sense of doom – a feeling that “this is it” and this is the end and it’s time to say goodbye.

Like many of his tiny, slim-legged kindred, Eli has a bad knee. It’s called a luxating patella and that means the kneecap doesn’t always stay where it’s supposed to. The problem gets exacerbated as he ages and the cartilage around the kneecap wears down. At some point it becomes bone-on-bone action and that doesn’t feel very good at all. There’s not a whole lot that can be done to alleviate the issue, especially as he gets older. Anti-inflammatory diets help, as does good, regular exercise. Keeping inflammation down, body weight as low as is healthy, and muscle tone strong all work together to keep the knee from degenerating, but it will only take him so far.

Eventually the knee will become so bad and the pain so great that surgery becomes the only possible treatment. Surgery is expensive and hit-or-miss, with a 10% “failure” rate in terms of relieving pain. Amputation is also an option, and while it’s never really the desired option to remove a back leg, a lot of dogs do thrive on three legs.

With Eli being as old as he is, it’s just a matter of time for some of the “senior” health issues to start cropping up – namely, the bum leg. And it seems like, lately, it has gotten worse. He has been limping a lot, yelping a little, and generally living what seems to be a more constricted, more painful life in the past couple of days. He doesn’t jump on the sofa nearly as much and he spends a lot of time hiding under the table or behind my office chair. He can still get to where he needs to go, most of the time with relative ease, but his carefree, tail-up preening and patrolling has been placed on pause until this painful bout subsides.

I’ve been giving him some leftover anti-inflammatory pain meds from a past procedure, and they have helped. But those will run out at some point, and then I will still need to deal with the underlying problems. I’ve started looking into supplementation, and canine chiropractic is also an option – or it would be, if I had the finances to swing it.

The hard part in all of this is that I am approaching the point of having to make choices between finances and his health. I’m not in the position to take him to the vet with any concern and say “do whatever it takes to make him feel better.” I carefully weigh whether I can take him to the vet at all, whether to get him the intensive care that could help him have a longer, happier life. I frantically look for more work to add to my already overloaded schedule, just to scratch together enough to feel secure that I could take him to the vet if and when he really needs it. I give him as many cuddles as he’ll tolerate and I tell him I’m trying to help him. I pray for him. I spend spare moments educating myself.

Eli has not been the perfect dog. He is not my best friend or my soul mate or the dog I will miss forever. He’s cranky. He barks out the window. He doesn’t like it when people come into his house. A lot of times his fear-aggression has been a real pain in the behind. But he’s my buddy and he’s been my buddy for 8 years now, and I love him. He’s been there for my entire “real” adulthood, and his presence is a comfort. We’ve lived in three states together, we’ve seen other people and other dogs come and go from our lives, and we’ve slept in the same room the vast majority of nights over the past 8 years. He’s been my ornery, sometimes loud, furry companion and I promised him, when I brought him home, that I would take care of him. Now he’s getting older and it’s time to make good on that promise, however that ends up taking shape. 

eli at 35mm

I'm the lucky girl who received a super-awesome new camera for Christmas. With it, I received a couple of new lenses. One is a zoom-y telephoto. The other is a 35mm prime lens.

Eli says I should go photograph that really interesting thing over there.

I've been doing a little bit of practice with the new gear. Eli is a common subject, as has been his habit for the past 7 years. Eli tends to get a little timid when the camera is on him. He thinks the flash is going to go off, every time, and this disturbs him. He recognizes the "I'm focused!" beep the camera makes, and he closes his eyes in anticipation of the flash. I have about a billion photos of Eli looking nervous with closed eyes. For example:

Eli says he hates cameras.

 Sometimes I try to humor him by pointing the lens not-at-his-eyes, but he doesn't seem to notice the difference. I'm just glad he returns the favor by sitting still long enough to get a few pictures. I have approximately 45 seconds of camera practice time in any given day, and it's nice to have a live model who doesn't clamor for that curious thing mama keeps holding up to her face.

Eli says he's ready for his manicure.

 I also have the option of photographing Gabriel while he's napping. He sleeps by a window and there is this delicious, beautiful natural light in there during nap time. Sometimes I just can't pass up the opportunity, but most days I am not willing to risk waking him. It happened once....that was a rough day.

Here's an out-take. Let's all pretend my apartment doesn't look like this approximately 95% of the time.

Company Girl Coffee 2.19.10

 

It's Friday! Time for another Company Girl Coffee. I've got a nice mug of green/white/peach tea (it's REALLY GOOD, I promise) and there's snow on the ground and the dogs are going crazy. A proper Denver morning in February, if you ask me.

Eli says a proper morning begins at 10am, no more of this 5am business.

This has been kind of an interesting week, what with Lent beginning and all. Brian has been ordained for all of 3.5 months and on Tuesday he went and got himself his first collared clergy shirt to wear to the Ash Wednesday service. YOW. I'm still getting used to this Pastor's Wife (PW) thing, but seeing him in the same shirt the 4 (four!) pastors at my home church wore every single day was a little...odd.

I've thought more about Lent this year than I have in years past. Growing up, I went to a Lutheran church that wasn't exactly oppressive, but very steeped in doctrine and kind of strong-willed in a socially conservative way. In other words, there was a definite right and wrong way to live. And one of the right things to do was give up something - something significant - for Lent. You weren't bad if you opted out, but you were very very good if you opted in. The problem was, I don't remember receiving much info on why we were making a sacrifice. I got that Jesus fasted for 40 days (and the guy who actually fasted for Lent became a small-time celebrity of sorts) so we should give up something too, but I didn't learn much beyond that. Lent in my childhood was essentially a competition to see who could 'give up' the best.

It should be no surprise, then, to learn that when I went to college (and started going to a very different kind of church) I never really 'did' Lent. Now, at age 26, I am finally a part of a doctrine-oriented church again, and I have come back to the practice of Lent. I hope to learn more about this part of our spiritual journey - really experience it the way we are intended. If you know of any great reads on Lent, or fasting in general, I would love to hear them in the comments!

We have had an extraordinarily busy week for us, with meetings and activities every night Sunday-Thursday...and then watching the Olympics after that keeps us up even later. (We don't have a DVR.) I am tired; Brian is exhausted.

Tonight, we sleep.

Rory says sleep is for the weak and that she would much rather be chewing on this blanket here. Because that's what is supposed to be going on at 6am on a Friday.

A couple knitting updates:

I realized sometime in the past week that the fun stripey socks I'd begun required more yarn than I had for the project. So...I've finished one of those and I have found some more of the yarn second-hand (it's discontinued). I'm hoping to get that yarn before the end of Feb, so I can finish up this second sock and have some fun new foot-sweaters.

In the meantime, I decided to start a shawl I've had my eye on for many months. It's more or less a triangle shape, knitted in three 'stages' of sorts. I've finished the first stage and I'm in the transition part to the second stage. This is my first real actual lace project with real actual lace-sized yarn. I'm pretty stoked about it. I might be able to finish by the end of the month, but it might take me a little longer than that. We'll see.

Beginning stages of lace. It's much bigger now.

So tell me, what are you up to this weekend?

coffee, etc.

I have never liked coffee. I have never liked mocha, or coffee-flavored ice cream, or tiramisu. I have always, however, liked coffee shops, and hot teas, and the coffee drinkers these shops serve (Starbucks not included - I get headaches in there for some reason).

On this date two months ago, we packed up our car and our dog (we only had one dog back then) and began our cross-country journey from Richmond, VA, to Denver, CO. Brian had just finished seminary and was about to start work at a church out here. I was facing a new first for me - being a housewife. We got married while he was in school, and I worked to support us. The plan for when we got out here was for me to get everything unpacked and then start bringing in some web-based income from home quickly, as a freelance proofreader and editor (and YES, I am for hire NOW! and YES, I DO edit theses/manuscripts/articles/resumes/blog posts!). Quickly hasn't happened as quickly as I had hoped (see posts tagged Rory) but it is coming, and I imagine that once work starts rolling in, I might spend some time in coffee shops. Especially when the weather gets nice, and I can sit outside with the dogs.

I haven't found my coffee shop here in Denver yet, but that's ok. Moving was expensive, and Christmas was expensive, and Eli had to have four digits worth of dental surgery, and all three of those things happened within about 6 weeks of each other, and I am still working on amassing a winter wardrobe (it is 0 degrees outside according to my thermometer) and we just plum don't have play money right now.

I've got plenty to keep me busy, though. Designing a website, for one. Setting up our home, for another. And then there are the dogs, who need feeding, and grooming, and training (lots of training) and walks and potty breaks outside (where it is 0 degrees) every 10 minutes or so, and cuddles and pets and ice cubes.

Busy hasn't proven to be quite the wonderful thing for me, though. I am lucky if I talk to a non-family member more than once a day (I'm counting librarians and grocery checkout people in that number) and, while I am fairly introverted, I am also very lonely right now. I send lengthy responses to 'hey what's up' emails; I linger on the phone a little too long; and the mail man (whose name is Jim) might be the closest friend I've made out here so far. Don't get me wrong - I have made some wonderful friends at church and I know those relationships will grow, but we rocketed right into the holidays when we got here, and everyone was busy doing holiday things. There was lots of good cheer to go around, but a shortage of the 'let's get together this week' kind of thing. So I have found myself doing a little bit of that one thing I thought I would never do, or need to do: finding community online.

One of my very very favorite blogs is called Home Sanctuary. I can't say enough good things about it, and I imagine that a large portion of folks who are reading these words came here because of Rachel Anne and Home Sanctuary. I've only recently begun commenting and reading the blogs of other visitors to Home Sanctuary, but I am so encouraged by linking with other women like me. And, I feel a little less lonely.

WELCOME! to any visiting Company Girls. And to my friends who are reading - please leave a comment and let me know you were here. I could use a little wave, some friendly words, and maybe your best joke on hand :)

In the meantime - I have some new girlfriends to call and some little get-togethers to try to set up. I hope you have a great day today and a good weekend ahead. Happy Friday!!

a little (p)update

Rory, aka Rory-Bear, aka Miss Priss, aka Little Miss, aka Stinky Butt, aka Stinker, had a vet checkup on Monday. She passed with flying colors, and we really like the vet. She listens to us, she isn't pushy about drugs or shots, and she really loves our pups.

Back to Rory. She has doubled her weight and she's outgrowing her crate. She is extremely leggy and is more sure-footed every day.

She is also mostly housetrained, though things get a little iffy in the afternoon, when we are all tired of each other.

We have started going on long walks, which has been good for me, probably good for Eli, and of negligible impact on Rory and her wild puppy energy but she seems to like them. We've been to the library and back - about a mile each way, which will be a regular venture in the future. On days when the weather is bad we just walk a half-mile loop around the apartment complex a couple times. As soon as the weather stops threatening to dump ten tons of snow on our heads, we're going to check out a dog-friendly shop in a shopping area a little over a mile away. (This complex will probably end up a regular destination of ours - along with the dog shop, it has a Chinese place, a grocery store, an Einsteins, and a few other places that contain treats for HUMANS.) I am currently strategizing how to tie the dogs up outside while I duck into non-dog-friendly places, like the library and the grocery store. Rory would probably be ok, other than barking at everybody and begging for attention, but Eli might go berserko and hurt somebody. Maybe I need to take a sign that says 'do not pet the papillon.'

Rory's current favorite things to do include ringing the outside bell any time she wants to go outside, chewing on bottles, and going with Eli to Home Depot. She's picked up a new habit of barking at other dogs when they're at a distance, which does not thrill me, but we are working on that. She is very friendly and loves meeting new people and animals. The trips to Home Depot are especially good for Eli - he is more inclined to calm down around people there than he is outside, for some reason. When we were there on Tuesday, Eli even approached a cashier looking for pets! A first for him!! Rory has been very good for Eli, and now the big task is to prevent Eli from teaching Rory bad habits.

She is more than twice Eli's size now. Her paws are becoming massive, her muscles are developing, and her head is starting to square off and become less 'puppy with a long nose' and more 'border collie under construction.' Sometimes we think her eyes are turning green, but then they'll be blue again. Could be lighting, or could be actual changes in color. We'll know which, eventually.

And for those of you suffering from Eli withdrawal, here's a cute picture of him sleeping.

TOMORROW IS CHRISTMAS EVE!!!

Have you finished all YOUR preparations?

a post about snow

Holy white stuff, Batman!

As is to be suspected, it is snowing again here in Colorado.  Twice in 2 weeks!  My feeble southern snow-loving mind might explode.  Other pertinent details include: the forecast predicted that it would 'snow for two days.'

Did you see that?  SNOW for TWO DAYS!  Not like two hours, or two seconds like I'm used to seeing.

Eli has experienced a couple of snowfalls in his young life.  While it can't be determined whether he actually likes the stuff, he certainly tolerates it pretty well and he's been known to brave snowfall deeper than he is tall, which is pretty cute. He is not so much interested in temperatures in the teens, or lower.

Rory LOVES snow.  More specifically, she loves to eat it.  She does NOT love to potty on it, which has proven a challenge for me, the potty break enforcer.

All in all, we love snow.  Good thing, since we moved to the mountains, right?

Eli non-update

It's 7pm. I was supposed to hear something between 6 and 630 and there's been no call.

I haven't quite decided how much to panic, but I've already cried and calmed down three times.  So...there's that.

I am so worried for my little buddy.



.

Nerves for Eli

Hi guys.  I could use a little bit of support today.  Eli is going in for his first (and hopefully last) dental procedure today.  This will involve anesthesia, which makes me very very nervous.

I could use some warm thoughts and encouragement today.  Hopefully I'll have him home again by 4pm this afternoon.  And hopefully he'll still have all his teeth.  I'll post a report later today, if my nerves haven't defeated me by then.

Here's a little cuteness for you to focus on today:

Thanks.




.

I think I forgot to mention ...

... that we are moving!

Yes, we are relocating.  To a completely different and new-to-us part of the country.  Many hundreds of miles away from family.

We leave in 3.5 weeks.

THREE POINT FIVE WEEKS we are leaving Richmond and driving to Denver.  And I have only had 2 breakdowns (that I can remember).  (and one of those was really small.)

I love Richmond, and I am really really sad to be leaving it.  I love my job, I love my neighborhood, I love this town.  But I also love snow, and I love major league baseball, and I love my husband.  There is some sadness in leaving Richmond, but there is much joy in going to Denver.  It means Brian is finally going to live his calling.  It means we will have a fresh start in a new place, just us, together, everything as 'we' or 'us' or 'our.'

This is a new chapter in my story, in his story, in OUR story.  This will be a major dividing point - we'll have Before Denver, which is a nebulous mis-mash of Ashley's life and Brian's life and Brian and Ashley's life together, and we'll have After We Moved To Denver, which will be wholly ours.

You know what else this means?  ROAD TRIP!!

Anybody have any tips on road tripping with a papillon?

Eli's coming!

Actually, Eli's here.

Eli's home!! After 3 loooong weeks without my little furry friend to stalk around the house and make me feel guilty deigning to offer him dog food rather than steak, I almost got used to life without him.

Almost.

Oh doggie, how I missed you.

oh yeah...the white elephant game...

You know those white elephant games that some groups of fun-loving people like to play?  Where everyone brings a gag gift, and you go around the room taking turns either picking from the pile of gifts or stealing from someone who's already opened one?  

Last month, Pap911 had a big white elephant game as a holiday fundraiser.  I was fortunate enough to get to play.  And I wanted, from the get-go, this pillow that was blue with a brown/white papillon embroidered on the front.  It goes well with the furniture, the dog reminds me of Eli, and I figured that someone would pick it before me, which would mean that I could steal it.  Bonus!  because I love stealing.

Someone did pick it before me, which means that I ended up stealing it, and I blamed Eli for making me do it.  This led to some humorous photo-edited banter, the pinnacle (in my opinion) of which, I thought I would share with you:

Brian informs me that this is NOT FUNNY, but I think it is, even a month later.

Note:  I took the photo but didn't edit it to add the pillow and the words.

fun with the new fisheye

So one of the swell gifts my husband gave me this Christmas was a fisheye lens (makes things round) with a detachable micro filter (makes small things very big).  These are some of the early results - straight off the card, just goofing around.

puppy butt

Eli makes this face at me regularly.  I interpret it as something along the lines of "Oh, are you speaking again?  I'll just glare at you until you have the good sense to stop."