The Sampson tree

Haven't done a Show and Tell for a while cause, well, other than shoes, I don't have anything new to show ya. But I had to share this. DH has a buddy that he hangs out with, usually they would walk the dogs together at least once a week in the endowment lands. He's one of those buddies that I rarely see. He's one of those aging bachelor dudes and if you ever slept with him you just wouldn't tell anybody, know what I mean? Anyways, they had a little "man" space they would hang out in with the dogs, affectionately coined "the Paddock". The dogs would run around and they would sit and smoke you know what and talk about whatever men talk about when no women are around. He did a very sweet thing, he made Sampson a memorial plaque in the shape of a bone and nailed it high up in a tree. And then the two of them scattered some of his ashes around the tree and if you look close at the 1st picture, you'll see the handprints they left. Below is a picture of his dog, Moose at the base of the tree. A very fitting and moving tribute. He knew exactly what Sampson meant to us.

Moving forward....

The first time I told my mum Sampson had died suddenly, she was upset as she could be but she really worked hard to comfort me. She patted my back and told me to turn the tears into joy. And to say a prayer for Sampson and she told us that he was a really good dog. She was genuinely moved by his death. I was amazed at her sensitivity. She was actually comforting me! Since her dementia, it's always me that is doing the actual caretaking and comforting. It's about her needs 24/7. Ah, the insight to motherhood!


I had to tell her a friend of hers was dead and she said, "Oh, no!" Thoughtful silence. " So where are we going?" and that was about it. She doesn't really cry at that kind of news. I don't know if it's the dementia or the drugs she's on. (I wonder if she'd share some of that stuff. "Hey, you didn't get that part you really wanted - again." "Oh, no! So what's for dinner?") We saw her again on the weekend and she seemed to forget that he had died but then remembered on her own. It was one of the few times that her and I can actually sensibly converse with one another and I'm actually getting something out of it.


Hung out with Mum last week. Had to explain to her AGAIN that the dog had died. The worst part is that she is genuinely surprised and I have to go through the whole thing again with her. Sigh. It would be funny actually if I hadn't been so depressed. We walked around and then hung out on the Starbuck's patio. We made our usual stabs at conversation and then I read the paper while she people watched. When I dropped her off back at the home, I just let her out the elevator and took it immediately back down. I don't usually do that, but I was on edge and I had to get away. I hate it when I get like that.

Hubby came home early that day and immediately set out to go biking in the Endowment Lands. It's about 10 km away and once you get over the bridge, it's all uphill. And I do mean uphill. Not one of his best ideas, but you can't tell a guy that. He survived and evidently made a stop at his buddies before returning home. I had biked a few km myself over to a district chant and by the time I got home, he was on the couch and a bit stoned. To his credit, he did BBQ some excellent steak (ala the Incredible Hulk - You wouldn't like me when I'm hungry). It always makes me feel so alone when he does that. Yeah, I know, his dog died. Can't say I blame him. I drank every day last week. Fortunately, the stagette broke my habit.

I had a stab of panic that the same thing would happen to us - that he would retreat into his world and I would retreat into mine to deal with the grief. And separately we worry about one another. Yeah, I know, communication is the key. In my efforts to keep moving forward and keep frantically busy, I need to keep in mind that just because we don't have our dog, we don't have a child, we're still a family and we need one another. Compassion is the driving force behind perseverance. Okay, gotta keep that in mind.

Keeping it together

Okay, still breathing. Had a dream about my dog last night. It was night and my husband and I were walking down a street and for some reason had to go past a deserted boarded up block. somehow we came across a dog and a raccoon. You could barely see the dog, it was so dark and he was black, but you could see the eyes of the raccoon. We started running and I called to the dog, here boy, here boy and then my husband called him. I was upset because I wanted the dog to come to me. Suddenly I felt something between my thighs - a muzzle - and I wasn't sure if it was the dog or the raccoon and I made myself wake up. Naturally, the dream was about my dog. The raccoon - fear. I think. He loved to chase raccoons and I was always discouraged it for obvious reasons. We see them here in the city a lot. I always give them respect and a wide berth. They're smart and tough and they've always got backup nearby. We had this game we used to play with Sampson. One of us would run off, usually me and my hubby would send the dog speeding off towards me - "where's your girl?" and then he would get to me and I would say - "where's daddy? go get 'im". I would always run away laughing and shrieking and when he would "tag me", he would always turn and run back to DH. Mouth open, tongue hanging, you might say he was smiling. Stanley Coren, local dog expert, said that to a dog, running free was akin to dancing to humans.

When at home, Sampson preferred to have the both of us in the same room. In our place now, he would have to go back and forth from room to room. If a door was shut, he'd butt it open. I remember one time in our old place, we'd had an argument and I went off in the bedroom and I'd slam the door. Sampson eventually came and butt it open (it never closed properly) and he just stared at me and then he'd go back into the living room and stare at hubby and he'd continue butting the door open as many times as I closed it. We ended up laughing and talking to each other again.

Anyways.....

Taking the day off bootcamp. I hurt inside and out. I still have a lump below my ankle bone which I have a hot water on at the moment and I tweaked a muscle underneath my shoulder blade doing rollover side planks. I'm tired. But that's not unusual. Yes, I went back to the doctor. My other blood tests (thyroid, liver) came back normal. Which means I have no bloody excuse for my lack of energy and malaise. Yes, I know, my dog died, but I had made the appointment before that happened. I'm aware that grieving is a separate process that doesn't require intervention, but she did say I had all the symptoms of depression. No surprise there. You all mentioned it, I didn't want to whisper the dreaded word but having been through it before, I suspected it. I just had very concrete reasons before and this time it didn't seem so apparent. What was going on beneath the surface? I was looking for a catalyst, but the doctor says there doesn't need to be one. Mmmm. Not sure I believe that, but whatever. I know me. When I stopped losing weight, I got really frustrated with myself. I was doing all the right things and I had plateaued and I was not happy about it. It felt like a setback and I think that was it. Or I could be completely bullshitting myself. I haven't worked in the industry for a while and all the other auditions, came up nada. I don't know. I don't suppose any of my reasoning matters at this point. She said I was doing all the right things for myself, staying active, keeping busy with Buddhist activities - chanting always helps, and I feel grateful for that. Going to meetings always feels like drinking a glass of cool, clear water on a hot day. Just what you need even if you didn't think you were thirsty.

So whether or not I'm too impatient to slog through a summer feeling like I'm dragging around a fridge on my back or scared of swimming too long in the pity pool, I took a prescription for Wellbutrin XL. I had used it years ago and it worked without most of the pesky side effects, like vertigo or no sex drive. I don't have a libido now, no point in making it worse. She told me I would be on it for at least 3 - 6 months, but the last time, I managed to cut it down much sooner. I just feel like a need a springboard out of this funk. As for the grief, I know how to do that. I know how it goes. Been there, done that, it doesn't kill you, it just is what it is for as long as it takes.

Though worldly troubles may arise, never let them disturb you. No one can
avoid problems, not even sages or worthies.

Drink sake only at home with your wife, and chant Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.
Suffer what there is to suffer, enjoy what there is to enjoy. Regard both
suffering and joy as facts of life, and continue chanting Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.
no matter what happens. How could this be anything other than the boundless joy
of the Law? Strengthen your power of faith more than ever.

- Nichiren Daishonin

I'm watching the high fructose (it's everywhere!) and the coffee. I've got hubby leaving me notes and calling or IMing several times, but I tell him that I haven't hung myself yet. Frankly, he's pretty mopey himself. He is not sleeping well because he stirs at every noise during the night. He still has half an ear out for the dog I think. Or taking over the dog's job, I don't know which. I've got a get a dress made for my friend's wedding. And then there's my hair. See? Lots to do. Oh, yeah, and I now have to remove reference to my beloved Baby Bear from our renovated adoption profile. Sigh. Lots of room in our life now for a little one.

Grief

First of all, thank you all so much for your kind words of compassion. I've been reading some of them to my husband and it REALLY MEANS A LOT!!!! I've been on the phone for hours just talking to my friends and those who knew and loved Sampson. He had a lot of admirers. He welcomed all who came to our home over the years.

We've been in shock the past couple of days. My husband's boss told him to come back to work when he's ready. He's been my shadow for the past few days. Apparently he doesn't want me out of his sight. We've both been on separate and combined crying jags, walking around in a daze looking for him, aching for his return. We're fine for a while and then we see a tuft of hair (his hair is EVERYWHERE) or we hear sirens (being that we live downtown we hear them quite frequently) and we start bawling again cause he would always howl when he heard a firetruck. We drove around for hours yesterday just so we could stay out of the apartment. We cleaned up his things, packed away his towels and leashes, vaccumed and swept. We have programmed our lives around this animal and now there is this huge vaccum in this place. His mighty tail that would knock over drinks placed too close to the edge of the coffee table; the silent brown eyed stares at 8pm every single night that beckoned for his nighttime treat; the pounding of his tail against the door that preceded his tumbling arrival; closed doors were opened with his heavy snout, his prescence in his bed in front of the patio doors.

We spent most of yesterday driving around on pointless errands, just trying to stay busy. I went back to the clinic to get the blanket we had brought him in on. They had washed it and it was warm from the dryer. I had to make my husband eat something, and we made phone calls and emails to friends and family. Coincidentally, my MIL had to put down her dog Monday evening. Her beloved dog had been ailing for a while and they knew it was coming. So it was a doubly sad time for all of us.

I went to bootcamp again today. I didn't tell anyone. It's not a real chatty class anyway. I just needed a grueling workout to keep my mind blank. We did something called the "gauntlet" which involved a lot of stairs and a lot of drill style exercises. Too busy heaving my guts out to think much about anything than putting one foot in front of the other. Usually, after class, I rush back home to walk the dog, but not today. Hubby came to meet me and we hung out at a cafe and talked. I bumped into an acting colleague of mine, dog in tow, but it was nice petting her affectionate dog.

As we biked back home, I remarked that when we were trying to get pregnant, it seemed as if there were babies everywhere. And now, we had a similar problem, except everywhere we looked, there were happy dogs being walked by their owners. In truth, we live in a city full of strollers and dogs. And coffee shops.

We prepared to busy our day with more errands and the phone call while I was in the shower. When I got out, I heard my husband sobbing. Sampson was ready to be picked up. Eventually, we got to the vet clinic and we were presented with his ashes in a lovely urn and that poem about dogs leaving footprints on your heart and rainbow bridge and all that. They also took his pawprint in purple ink. That got me. They also signed a pet sympathy card. I left them a card as well with a couple of Sampson pics thanking them for their efforts. We cried some more. When we got home, I chanted daimoku for Samps, my husband by my side.

I went to spin class and when I came home, I found DH once again in tears. He alternates between tears and raging. I alternate between drinking, chanting and then tears. I hope that no one tells him that "he was just a dog". Seriously, that person will regret it. Seriously.

I know it will get easier, but right now, it's not. Right now, he's feeling seriously bitchslapped by life, once again, andwondering who the fuck sucked up all the good luck in the world and left us with the booby prize. Hubby likes to ask, why? I say, why not? I don't ask why anymore. The answer is not really important. It's not even relevant. Suck it up, buttercup, it's all just part of life. Nothing personal. Good people and good dogs die every fucking day. It could have been a lot worse. We were protected from watch him suffer through a long, painful inevitable death. It was quick and we were both there for him. As I swore I'd do. (Though at times it feels as if there's a time limit on our ability to stay trauma free.)

And now Baby Boy is back home with his pack where he belongs.

Once again, thank you for the e-cards and comments. They have been an enormous comfort.

Rest in Peace, Dear Sampson

Today, my dog died. He was laying in the back office, when I heard his nails skittering on the hardwood. I went to find out what he was up to, fully expecting to find him trying to catch a fly or something. He was spread out on the floor, rapidly breathing, eyes dilated and not seeing me. I called my husband immediately. I had no idea what to do. I quickly cleaned up a bit of dog poo, I thought he had had a seizure of some sort, and then I tried to rouse him from his stupor. He was not responding. I called my husband and told him to hurry. I placed him on a blanket and dragged him to the elevator. My husband arrived shortly, he ran all the way home. We took him to the veterinary hospital, they took him right away and eventually the vet told us that he most likely had a cancerous tumour that had burst on his spleen. Internal bleeding. The x-rays confirmed this and we were left to decide as to what measures to take next. Stabilize him by transfusion and then surgery at a specialist's office in Burnaby. My husband went to call his friend to have him bring his dog down as there was no blood available at the dog blood bank. Two minutes later, the vet rushed back in and said that Sampson was not going to make it. We ran in to his side. I put my hand on his neck and he placed his paw around my wrist, gasping for air. We made the decision to euthanize and that was that. We spoke to him, nuzzled him and told him that mummy and daddy loved him so much, he was a good dog. I chanted as much as I could. And then he was gone. I had to be dragged away from him. I collapsed outside, sobbing.

We are numb. We've been crying all afternoon. I can't believe he's gone. I can't believe he's gone. He was gone within an hour. My big bear. He had a lot of nicknames. Baby Bear, Baby Boy, Big Boy, Hammers (as in dumb as a sack of hammers), Papa, etc. I knew that this day would come. But not today. Not today. He had a good walk this morning and now he's gone. A part of my family has died today. My husband is walking around in a daze.

We loved him so much.

Gassy dog

My dog woke us again last night - hubby took him out, but he just peed and then upon return, waited for a snack. And the he came up on the bed, put his head on hubby again and so out they went again. Did I mention this was at 2:30am? My turn at bat came next at 3am. Once again, he didn't do anything but sniff around. I was pretty sure he had gas and he was stomach was giving him some grief. Apparently, DH gave him an extra scoop of dog food earlier that night. He's been eating a variety of foods this week, so we just need to be careful getting him back to his regular overpriced dog food.

I ended up laying down beside him on the living room rug until he fell asleep. By this morning, the stinking haze in my bedroom confirmed my suspicion of brimstone percolating in his ass, and when we reached the park, and unloaded his burden, he was as right as rain again. Sorry, I hope the tourists forgive me.

My adored beast is back in action!

Thank you all so much for your good wishes. Sampson is indeed much better. As a matter of fact, one of his prescriptions ran out on Saturday and consequently, I feel, he started to perk up. By Sunday, we went on our usual walk in the park and though he was tired on our way home, he was acting like his usual self. By Monday, he was rolling on the grass with his ball and barking at me. He's back! I got the blood results when I went to pay the bill. Yes, my vet actually lets you leave without paying the bill. And he called me on Sunday to check on him. He's a big of a wingnut, but he's a great vet. (If you bring your dog in worried about something and it's nothing, he usually doesn't charge you for the visit.) Apparently, he had a minor raised liver enzyme level which the vet says is nothing. He has a has a lowered thyroid level, which would explain his sluggishness and slow heartbeat and that's about it. He doesn't even have to be medicated. Yay! Very happy! We just have to watch his weight and make sure he gets exercise.

Man, I sweated that one a bit. I was laying down with my beast chanting in his ear and while at the culture centre for a leaders workshop, I prayed strongly for his complete recovery. I owe him for making me chant so much. I can't believe how worried I was; imagine what I'll be like if my kid gets a fever in the middle of the night. I better start reading this child care books. The more I know the less helpless I feel. No wonder doctors act so calm in the face of adversity. It made me realize how much I had transferred my maternal feelings towards him. Great, I'm a crazy dog lady. Oh, man, I feel sorry for my future kid. I'll be all over them like my mum was when we were sick. She'd hear you cough in the middle of the night (no closed doors allowed in my house) and she'd run in and slather your chest in Vick's vapo rub. Ack! She never used a thermometer to determine a temperature, just the flat of her hand.

Now, of course, Sampson doesn't want to eat his plain ole (expensive!) dry dog food without rice and chicken. Spoiled rotten. :)

update

Further update: took Samps back to vet. Over the course of the day, he was still lethargic and weak and I thought better take him again before the weekend comes. The vet took a blood sample, so I should have results by tomorrow. He doesn't think its the medication, but he shouldn't be so mopey and his heartbeat is now slow. He thought it might be pancreatitis. I also had to take my mum to the hairdresser, so both seniors were attended to today. Well, at least I'll know by tomorrow. Sigh.

Update on my big boy

My DH came home early from work yesterday, he just couldn't concentrate either. He lay on the floor petting and hugging him and our big boy just sucked it up. Earlier in the day I was laying with him, chanting to him and stroking him. I decided he needed to go back to the vet.

His temperature is normal now and his heartbeat is strong. The doc recommends we just keep on eye on him, he just might need more time to recover. He's still a bit pokey, but as I was browning his extra lean hamburger last night, he came sniffing to see what I was cooking, which is an improvement. And after he came back from outside he waited expectantly by the pantry door for a treat to be handed out.

It's funny, we acted like parents fretting over a sick child. We reported to each other each little thing that he did, how much he peed, his energy level, whether he was resting comfortably. When all you've had is this creature to raise, their well being becomes as important as any other member of the family. And now that's he's 10 years old and slowing down, you're aware that large dogs don't live as long as small ones, you start thinking of their demise and where you're going to sprinkle their ashes. I've imagined a child's arms around his big head, his big tongue licking a sticky face; his large body between us and harm as we went for a stroll in the park; all of us in one of those stupid Christmas card pictures we get every year from our friends.

I remember once when a dog came up from behind me and started bumping me with his muzzle, for whatever reason, and Sampson came running up and PUSHED the dog away from me. He did not attack, or snarl, he just pushed him away. And another time, we were walking in some suburban woods, and a lone dog came strolling towards us. He, once again, just pushed the dog into the tall grass away from me. The dog meant no harm, I'm sure, was just out for a stroll by himself, (people with houses just tend to let the dogs out on their own, apartment dwellers have to walk them). During my many post transfer bed rests, he would snuggle up on the bed with me, his head on my stomach. When I could barely walk because of swollen ovaries, he would wait for me to catch up.

He's asleep at the foot of the bed, he's going to be just fine. Thank you for all your good wishes and suggestions.

Sick doggy

It's my 100th post and I guess I should be writing something really special, but my dog is sick and I can't. I'm a little worried about him. He was with hubby last week and got into one of his dog buddy's bones and the diarrhea started. We went away for the weekend for family stuff, and he wasn't that bad, but on Tuesday night, it got worse. I had been giving him rice and it seemed to help. I knew something was up the minute I heard his claws on the floor, I woke up straight away, woke up hubby and then SPLAT. The smell was OUTRAGEOUS! I took him out, while hubby cleaned up. I came back upstairs to find kleenex stuck in his nose. It was actually very funny. We opened up the windows, Febreezed the bedroom and bathroom, scrubbed the carpet, threw the bathroom rugs in the washer, yes, it was THAT BAD! Went to sleep finally once we put nice smelling stress release spray on the pillows.

We went to the vet yesterday and the doc put him on antiobiotics right away. The poor thing. He was so lethargic, so mopey, so not himself. He still eat treats, so he can't be that bad, right? I shouldn't have waited so long, I'm usually so fussy about his health. I am now cooking his meals, rice and chicken, which he is eating with gusto, but I was sure he'd be right as rain this morning. Speaking of which, it's raining here and I would like some sunshine now, please. Get better, Samps, please.