Spring and the Kepler Moon
Friday gratefuls: Ruth’s birthday dinner at Sushi Win. Kep. His last day, I think. So sad. Gabe looking fabulous after a makeover by Mia and Ruth. Weary of all this heavy emotion.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kep
Deciding to put Kep down today. So damned hard. But he can’t get up. He has a tumor on his left knee. I’m weak. And tired. So is he. The first time without Kate. She always went in with our dogs. While I stayed in the car and cried.
Euthanasia. Choosing your own death. Good. Painful. Judy Sherman. Kate. Strong women choosing their exit. For dogs not their choice but ours. What makes it hard for me. Taking away their life without their consent. After having spent their whole life doing what they needed to stay alive. Seems like a contradiction in my heart. Which cleaves in two.
With Kep and Dr. Doverspike’s help though, I can see this as the humane kindness for Kep. He got the dwindles, as Kate would have said. We did what we could. Held down his pain. Eliminated it. Made him comfortable. Loved him to the end. Nothing more to be done.
As Kate knew when she asked me that terrible question, would you rather have me disabled or dead? She knew my answer but wanted affirmation of her decision. It was shortly after that she chose to be taken off everything but oxygen. Again. What do you think of my decision? I hate it because I’m going to lose you, but I think it’s the best one for you. Same with Kep.
I’m feeling sad. Hammered. Relieved. Glad. Sorry. Anguished. Certain. Tired. Again. Teary. Empty. Whole. Engaged. In my life. OK. Oh.
Kep’s lying down watching me type. As he’s done over the last months in the mornings since I moved stuff down here so he wouldn’t have to climb the loft stairs. He seems to get comfort from it. A routine. I do, too.
The end of the move from Minnesota minus only me. First Vega. Then Gertie. Kate. Rigel. Jon. Now Kep. Going to wait six months before I decide on another dog or not. In some ways I’d like to adapt to being by myself. More flexible for travel. But after 17 dogs and thirty plus years of having at least one around to love me and to love back. Plus, an empty house.
I needed Kep and Rigel after Kate died. They saw me through my mourning and through the waning of my grief. It would have been an unbearable time without them. Dogs have been, are so dear to me and to my life with Kate.
Gardens. Bees. Dogs. Flowers. Mountain tops. Our life together. Wonderful. Blessed. Holy. Sacred. With life, abundant life. And with abundant life, so many deaths. The tragedy and the joy of life itself. We can share it. Until we can’t.
This day. This awful day. This awful day.
