What You Don’t See

Here’s what I was pondering yesterday. Grief, and the showing of emotion.

Yesterday I had to go to the vet’s office, for the first time since Bruiser died. Going to the place where she died, it made me want to throw up. I knew that I would physically be able to do it, I could make myself open my car door, place both feet on the ground, walk through the door. I had to get Jake’s steroids and heartworm meds for him and Chelsea. It needed to be done, and so I could do it. But I did not want to do it. Emotionally, I did not know quite how I would stand it. Or… I knew that I could stand it, because apparently I can stand just about anything, but I did not want to stand it. And I varied between “I can do this, no probs.” and “I am going to have a total breakdown.” And once I was on my way there, I saw quite quickly that things were veering straight into breakdown land. It was not surprising, as several times I have burst into tears just from passing that exit on the highway, so the idea of actually going into that place, the last place we went together, the place where I had to leave her body when she was dead, the place from which she is never, ever coming home – that idea was just… I don’t know the word for that idea. (I hesitate to use the word “unbearable” anymore, because I don’t think that word means anything. Everything, it turns out, is bearable to some degree. Unless it actually has killed you, you have borne it.)

And so on the way there, knowing what I had to do, I started crying. I cried all the way there, and I cried in the parking lot. And I cried as I walked in, and I cried as I told the ladies at the counter what medications I needed. And I saw Bruiser’s and my favorite vet, and she said hello to me and I just stood there weeping, and also going about my business. I did not let the fact that I was crying stop me from interacting and getting my business done. I just did it while I was also having an obvious emotional response. And I felt really OK about that. I have suffered an intense loss. I am devastated about it, I am sad. I feel pain when I think about it, I feel pain when I have to take part in activities that make me remember it. That pain and grief and loss comes out my eyeballs in the form of tears. They are an expression of my overwhelming sadness. That sadness did not stop me doing what I needed to do. My sadness and tears did not end the world. Presumably, after the girl with the intense sadness was gone, the veterinary staff went about their day as normal. Part of me wanted to feel ashamed and wrong-headed for being so openly, unabashedly sad, and yet I refused to. I did not want anything from them (aside from the meds I was buying.) I wanted no particular comfort or attention. My tears were not a strategy devised to elicit anything from anyone. I wanted only to exist in my own emotional space, having my own feelings, and expressing those in a way that not only came naturally to me, but also was not something I could control. I could have taken medication to make myself not feel those things, and not express those things, but to me that no longer seems like a sensible option – ingesting chemicals to quash my emotions. For whose comfort would I be doing that? For the people who might have to see my grief? I think they can stand it.

So while and after this happened— here’s what I was also pondering. I know that many people I see on a daily basis are also experiencing some intense forms of emotional upset. I mean, I presume they are.  Things happen to people, people get upset about them, that’s the human condition. I don’t know about them, because even though I know other people must be feeling some feelings, I do not see this expressed very often. I don’t know if that’s happening outside my sight range, because I do not search for it in other people’s faces. And honestly, I do not know for sure if it is happening at all. I was wondering, as I stood there weeping at the vet’s office—am I the only person today who will stand here and do this? The only person this week? The only person in the world, ever, to stand here feeling this way and let it leak down my shirtfront? I don’t know. Maybe so. Nobody else I know ever talks about feeling the kind of wild grief that I have been going through. Maybe it’s not considered polite, or maybe it’s considered weak, or maybe nobody else really feels that intensely about things, and my emotional brain is cranked up to eleven. Honestly I have no idea.

All I know is that these emotions are mine, and they are real, and they are not something I am going to pretend not to feel, or squash down or hide away behind a big fake “everything is fine!” smile. Being in touch with my emotions is a gift that I have given myself permission to accept. And I would say that I am sorry if it makes other people uncomfortable, but honestly, I am not.

Explaining the Unexplainable

On May 12th, Princess B’s heart finally gave out on her. She began to have trouble breathing, and she was in obvious distress, and I had to make the decision to let her go.

Since then I have been struggling to find a way to say that. To talk about it. To let people know. And I have discovered that there is no way to talk about it, it is an impossible thing. There are no words to make someone else understand what’s gone from my world. Maybe one day my brain will find a way to make letters into words into sentences that can somehow convey what has happened, and how I feel. But not now. And so instead, I will simply say that she is gone, and here are some pictures of her that are my favorites from the eight years we spent together. Continue reading »

Pupdate

Just picked up more of Princess B’s newest meds from the vet today, and I am very excited to report that she’s responding really well to them! No coughing fits, no collapsing, she acts like she feels well – it’s awesome. She’s been on this three-drug combo for about a week, and I think it’s definitely the right thing. Feeling very positive about it. :)

Yeah, she's upside-down, because that's how she hangs when her UncleTodd comes over.

Things I am Loathe to Talk About

The list of things I don’t want to discuss at any one time is fairly large. There are 4-5 things I can think of right now that I am totally unwilling to talk about, because if I don’t talk about them, they won’t be real. But something I don’t want to talk about but feel that I must is that the oldest of my three dogs, Princess Bruiser, is sick.

I don’t know how old PB is, she was a stray and was at least 6-7 years old when I got her back in 2002. So she has to be 13-14 years old, and possibly is even older than that. She has had a heart murmur since I got her, and that’s progressively worsened with her age. Nevertheless she’s remained quite spry, with the dire prophecies of surgery needed to correct her luxating patellas never coming to pass, she (usually) runs around and keeps up with the other two. And aside from poisoning herself with xylitol that time, she’s been fairly healthy. Sure, she gets tired easier than the other two do and would prefer to spend most of her time either being carried around or laying on a heating pad basking, but she’s an older lady. That’s to be expected.

One of my favorite pics of Princess B, back at my old apartment.

In July though, she had what we’re going to call an episode. She came upstairs as we were getting ready for bed and she started coughing. That’s not abnormal for her, and chihuahuas frequently suffer from collapsing trachea  – coughing makes them re-expand. So I didn’t think anything of it. But then she started wheezing, and then she fell over. Just kaboom, fell over on her side, conscious but unable to move. I picked her up and she was like a ragdoll, her body just sagged limply in my hands. She couldn’t even lift her head. So I held her, willing her to keep breathing, and after 5 minutes or so she was able to move around a little again. By the next morning she was fine. I took her to the vet, and she did some x-rays. Bruiser’s heart is enlarged, asymmetrical and had some fluid buildup around it. Also hear heart murmur had progressed from 3/6 to 4/6. Basically the night before her heart was no longer circulating enough blood to her muscles and organs to keep them working, which is why she collapsed but was still conscious. At that time the vet put her on an ACE inhibitor and a diuretic, to make her heart work more efficiently, and told me to keep her calm. Since then she’s improved, she’s had one or two coughing episodes since then, but nothing major. But last week she had another episode like the first one.

I had been trying to carry her up and down the stairs since the first time that happened, especially at night when she’s overtired, but she snuck up behind me last week as I was upstairs getting dressed to go out. She stood there looking at me and then she started coughing, then she collapsed again. This time she was crying because she couldn’t breathe, and contorting her neck to try to get air. It’s really awful to see. So I took her back to the vet. Now they’ve put her on a second drug to make her heart work more efficiently, and reinforced that she can’t do anything to strain her heart, like get excited or go up multiple flights of stairs. I can tell she’s tired, when she gets in bed with me she lays in one position on the pillow all night, covered with a blanket, not willing to move around. This morning she had a coughing/shaking fit while coming down the stairs – something that’s never happened before. It’s very scary and sad. Every day when I come home I am not sure if she’s going to come to the door and greet me, or if I am going to find her body somewhere cuddled under a blanket. I know I am a doom and gloom kind of person, but I also know that it’s only a matter of time until her heart can no longer function.

Because I am a worrier, and planning makes me feel more prepared and in control, I’ve found a company that will come to pick up her body when she dies. I know that seems very maudlin and maybe cold-hearted, but I couldn’t take the thought of being alone and grieving in the house with her dead body, and trying only then to figure out what to do about it. I needed to have plans in place for when that time comes. This company will come to get her and cremate her remains and return them to me. I don’t even know how I can type that without freaking out – but honestly I would rather come to terms with it now than later.

I have no concept of how my life is going to be without her in it. 7+ years of her constant companionship have changed me. Sometimes during those years she was the only connection I had (or wanted) with the outside world. Having the other dogs will soften the blow somewhat, I think, and that’s part of the reason I have them. I can’t be alone in that house without her, certainly. Not that I don’t love the other two, but PB is my heart.

Anyway, I don’t want to talk about this but I feel like I have to. Both so that I can process it and prepare myself, and for those of the rest of you who know her, so when and if something happens to her it’s not a rude surprise. Maybe I am wrong and she’s got years left on the planet. I certainly hope so. But I suspect that’s not the case.

Low Light

I don’t know why they always do the cutest things when they’re up here in the office where the light is so shitty.

Click pic for full size.

Life in the Tri-Chi Zone

Butt-Sniffing/Crybaby Action

Just some typical Chi shenanigans. Chelsea was sitting in that chair crying to herself for no reason for about five minutes. (We’re trying to teach her to self-soothe, but so far it’s not working.) By the time I got the camera, she’d moved to the ottoman, and Bruiser and Jake decided to get in on the action. I particularly like how Jake appears to spring from nowhere like the young kangaroo he is, and the three way butt-sniff that immediately follows his appearance. Other favorte part is at the very end where Jake tries to sniff Bruiser’s ear and she gives him a big helping of hey, have a look at my teeth, buddy.

Sunbeam

Yin-Yang Dogs All in Brown

The ways they contort, and methods they use to keep their noses warm, always amuse me.

This one’s a little fuzzy, I know, but I still thought it was cute.

Why we love them

Dogs. We love them in part because they have no dignity.

Two Adjectives

Those that come immediately to mind are “anxious” and “handitarded”

Things That are Pointless

Bruiser and Chelsea’s response to the TLC and multi-step bathing and aromatherapy conditioning process I carried out on their little bodies yesterday?

Rolling around in (what I presume by their new stench to be) cat piss.

Random Dog Cuteness

Never did post about the Chis stay with my Mom and Dad, did I? I should. But anyway, they’ve been more than usual cute since I got back from Savannah, or else I just really missed them hard and everything they do is cuter as a result.

Chelsea has solidified her new behavior of lurking for me outside the shower. Each night I go into the bathroom, throw my clothes on the floor and get into the shower. Each night I open the shower curtain and see petite la Chelsea curled up in my discarded clothing, looking up at me like “What? It smells like you!” Then when I step out of the shower she flees in a panic, because while she wants to be close to me and my scent, the thought that I might try to, you know, TOUCH her, sends her into a mini-panic. Then she comes back and sits by me while I do my hair, crying for attention. Depending on my mood it’s either adorable or irritating. But every time I see her curled up in my discarded clothes, looking up at me with her ginormous googly eyeballs, I have a serious “awwww!” moment.

Jake has realized that even when I am otherwise engaged I have a tendency to kick out at anything that attacks my feet, so he’s now taken to skulking under my computer desk and pouncing on them unexpectedly, in order to get me to pet his belly with one. He’s much better at training me to exhibit his desired responses than vice-versa.

The dogs have been banished to sleeping on the floor due to the “Reclaiming the Bed as a Territory of Jake in a Really Inappropriate Way at 10 p.m. on a night when Susan has been Driving for Thirteen Hours, Dammit.” incident. But that’s been going surprisingly well. Some niceness (ahhh… stretching out in own bed) and some not-so-niceness (Jake refuses to sleep if he’s not in the bed, so he runs around chasing Chelsea all night and they tend to be frazzled in the morning and then sleep all day. Also PB wakes me up crying every night and after that I have a hard time getting back to sleep. Also no cuddles.) But we’re adjusting. Sometimes I wake up to the sight of two pointy ear-tops and the top of a round-domed head pogoing impatiently next to the bed (that’s Jake) and it makes me laugh.

How to NOT torture your dog

When I first got Bruiser I thought I could manufacture cute shots of her. I soon learned that you can’t make a chihuahua do cute things, you have to sit your happy arse down and wait for the cute to occur and hope you catch it. Forcing it scares them to death. See?

Terrified Chihuahua

Not-Terrified Chihuahua

Now, which do you think the chihuahua here: Cute Overload! is?

(not that I don’t love me some CO, because I do! Check out the baby fennec fox and die in the throes of cutegasm.)

Random Bulls***, Pt. Infinity

So last day of my 4-day weekend today. It’s been nice to relax and not worry about “SUSAN – GOT A QUESTION FOR YA!” being hollered at me every 7.35 minutes by my new boss. </comment on that whole situation, as I don’t want to get fired.> Anyway, it’s been relaxing, chilling out and playing with my friends & family while not thinking about work. This weekend are Todd’s parties, which should be a good time, and I get to look forward to a whole week off starting on the 9th. Looks like I will be hanging in town, since the price of gas, the harsh reality of being responsible for a pack of wild dogs and everyone else’s schedules being awkward have conspired to make a trip anywhere too problematic. But there’s plenty to do here and, barring a giant heat wave or some new ghetto neighbors moving in next door, it should be fun to have time to myself (sans broken appendage).

I had to take Chelsea to the vet today for her shots and to schedule a dental for her. The clinic I go to has a rotating cast of vets, so you don’t always see the same one. This one I hadn’t seen in a year and a half, but she got all excited when she saw me. While I know I am memorable I don’t know that I am that memorable, so I was confuddled, but then she said “You’re the xylitol lady!” and I realized why I was hard to forget. Apparently she become quite famous on her veterinary listserv after that whole debacle, and the local expert on xylitol poisoning. I assured her that Bruiser was now fine and that we all gave up artificial sweeteners.

Then I got Chelsea (all 5.4 lbs of her) her shots and brought her home. Of course my ghetto-ass car had to go all wonky and the back passenger side window wouldn’t stay up. I think it fell off the track, and I think they can fix it at work tomorrow so it hopefully won’t be a big deal. For the time being it’s being held in place with – wait for it – loose change I had laying in the car. That’s all wedged in the cracks to keep the window from falling down. I reign white-trash supreme!

But that got me considering (again) that it’s pretty much time for a new car in Susanland. This one will be 8yrs old in October, and slowly but surely it’s starting to give out. Not mechanically, that would make my decision easy; but the windows haven’t worked right for a while now, and the door locks and alarm are wonky too. The stereo I gave up on years ago, and it’s starting to show some rust in places. But the thing is, I don’t WANT a new car. I don’t even want a new used car. I love that my car is totally ghetto-tastic and of no appeal to anyone. I love that I don’t give a crap if someone scrapes up against it. It’s a comfortable, reliable, nondescript car which no one would every want to steal. If I buy a new car I am going to want to buy a nice new car, not a piece of crap. And then someone is going to swipe it, or sideswipe it, and I am going to get all angsty about it. Of course said crappy car IS the reason I don’t think it’s a good idea to drive cross-country by myself right now, but I have to weigh that against having car payments again – ick, car shopping – double-ick, and the inevitable meteoric rise of my insurance rates if I buy something new. Plus I can’t justify buying a new SUV with the price of gas, but I can’t stand the thought of going back to a “car” car. Bleh. I can’t think about that today. I will think about that tomorrow.

Anyway, Jenipants shared some very exciting news with me today, so a big congratulations goes out to her. Seize the happiness, doll.

Oh! and this is my ONE-THOUSANDTH post! So, hooray and stuff.

Hard out there for a Pup

Between the piles of blankets and the heating pad I added to that bed, these dogs have little incentive to move at all during the day.