Anticipatory Grief, and How I am Standing It

 This morning I was reading through my "LarPar Support Group" - for people whose dogs have this horrible condition, and seeing so much grief and stress, along with hope, anxiety, enthusiastic research and above all, love. And just letting my own go-go-go attitude drop for a day, I allowed myself to move gently into all that I'm feeling, and yes, it is all of the above....deep anxiety and worry, but also the joy in still having him, gratitude for all the years, fatigue (so.much,fatigue) and anticipatory grief.

Honestly though I've been in varying degrees of AG since his heart condition was diagnosed a couple years ago. It's accelerated greatly this past couple of weeks, but I have some tools in the kit, and thought maybe today I'd share a bit about how I'm coping.

First...let me say there are days (or parts of a day) where I'm not really coping well at all. I had one of those last week and basically cried all day;I do actually believe that in itself may be part of a larger coping strategy. For those of us who bottle up, or carry on despite total misery, letting the floodgates open - that enables us to move on with the next day. I felt lighter and clearer the next day - so, yep, "falling apart" is part of how we - or let me say, I - cope.
But, there are other ways. :)

I made a list today of what helps me, as I walk this leg of the journey with my darling heart -as I face sleep issues,  enhanced back pain from stress, crying jags, depression, and a never ending sense of both sorrow and fear. I have a bunch of other creatures here who love me and need me, and I am working fulltime and then some, so I need to stay ok. Here's my shortlist - and your own ideas are most welcome.

1) Work (surprise, surprise). and by this I don't mean 14 hour days doing herb and nutrition consults - that, but also work around here, which I can really only do in the morning when my back is relatively ok after sleep. Chores are good,the ones I can still do! and then later, working with clients, marking assignments etc. I lose myself in it and for a while, I forget. Dishes, dusting, laundry I can do, and it is helpful, simple stuff.

2) Cats - an afternoon lie down is an assurance that cats will pile on me - Mithrandir gets there first, followed by zhouzhou and Tatyana - Frank and Evita will gaze longingly but not join in the battle for Mom's lap. These cats are very sweet and contented, but Moms lap brings out something ferocious in three of them.

One we're settled, the circle of purring just....helps.

3) TV - remember when it was sooo uncool to watch television? Well I am far past caring about coolness, but it's good that people recognize tv for a good-and-potentially bad thing. With so much rampant addiction to ipods etc, watching an hour or three of good telly at night seems pretty benign. Like work, I get lost in a well done series - right now we are re-watching ER,  and we do a movie here and there - old and new. Dan is always beside me and unless he is wheezing, we melt into comfort and he sleeps, I escape into a storyline.

How much did I cry watching this last night? well definitely like it wasn't for the third time already. :)

Oh and for anyone wants to watch the whole heart -wrenching thing:

 

4) Baking! Probably all I have to say about that (and soup making, both are so very therapeutic).

Chocolate acorn flour cake, a fall standby I didn't make this year, but now feel like I need to.

 

5) Pema Chodron - her online course on staying grounded in a groundless time, is proving invaluable.My whole day is worse if I skip the exercises in the morning.  https://www.soundstrue.com/products/embracing-the-unknown

6) Looking over the photo records of the past 14 years. That sounds like it might not be such a good thing- but it can be, if I enjoy the reminiscence - if I start to feel weepy or weird, I just stop.In the right mood, it helps me remember what we have had, and that helps the sense of sadness about what we're going to lose.

7) Knowledge - in the right mood (all of the above have to be approached in the right mood, or they won't be helpful) delving deeply into research about Dan's condition is empowering. I can't do too much, but every day I seem to learn a bit more, prepare a bit more, and that's a good thing. I can also share that knowledge with others, which brings me to...

8).... reaching out to others in need, my online community. Facebook is just amazing for me, my personal Timeline, my own canine health group and now the amazing larpar group. I appreciate and love you all so much.


9) Korky.  Just....Korky. (Hello, psycho. Can I have a kiss?) Because laughter really is, at least some of the time, the best medicine. 

Isn't he such a love?

10) Christmas stuff - maybe a bit of lunacy at a time when expenses are so high and income so restricted, but I will do what I can on a shoestring. I know that it's very possible Dan will be gone by Christmas and I won't feel like anything, but for the others here I will not cancel Christmas. I've been looking at pinterest and etsy and all kind of youtube videos on decor ideas,and planning what I can afford at a bare minimum and what we can add if things ease up. It's a good distraction even if all we do is put up our existing decor and have a few days lying around in jammies.

 

 

I've been threatening to get this for Alex for years, and I think this will be the one I finally cave.

11) Druidic work - I am in the Bardic grade with OBOD (Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids) and the work provides me with peace, balance, distraction from worry and also emphasizes my sense of death as passage, not as punishment, enlarges my sense of purpose outside of caregiver, provider and chronic worrier.. This part of my day is essential. Every day.

Hope you can see this, if at all interested. Druidry  is not really as weird as it sounds.

So, a few of my strategies, and somehow I am making it through, day by day, sometimes hour by hour. I am off now for a furpile/purrfest and some chai, because it is, after all, Sunday. I'd love to hear how you cope with grief, especially anticipatory. I will be making a Danny scrapbook soon as well, but that's another entry. He is ok as of right now, and therefore, so am I.

On the Importance of the "very last times" and holding them forever in your heart

 This will be a quick post, I have a number of clients today and I always do an hour or two of study in the morning, on whatever herbal program I'm doing at any given time. I also swing by Facebook, and do research on things like - well, recently a condition that used to be called LarPar (Laryngeal Paralysis) and now is known as GOLPP (Geriatric Onset Laryngeal Paralysis Polyneuropathy)...quite a mouthful, that.
The reason for the herb study is, I share Susun Weed's belief that it takes lifetimes to become a true master of herbal medicine, so I need to do all I can in this one to  "get the hang of it". Or, as Pablo Casals put it when asked why, in his 90s, he still practised 4 hours a day,  "I think I'm starting to see some progress".

Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind. I learn every single day about herbal medicine. I love it and am eager for this time every day, especially in the darker months where it's me and a candle and the screen (and my very old fashioned Materia Medica, where I take notes).

I visit Facebook for the sense of community, to see what's up with Friends, and to check my professional Page and groups. I like Facebook. I know that's an increasingly unpopular stance but I do. And right now, visiting FB means giving voice to the  deeply spiritual and incredibly difficult passage I am moving through with Daniel,as each day he grows older and each week or so we see changes. Last time I wrote I was sure he had CCD. As of now, I'm not sure that he has NO cognitive issues, but - without formal veterinary diagnosis - I am very sure he has GOLPP.

I am going to compile my research and experience into a blog article soon, so (if anyone reads THIS blog, which I doubt!) please check The Possible Canine.  This is a personal blog, so here, I am just going to talk about loss, anticipatory grief, coming to terms (or trying to) with the hardest reality of all - that all things must pass. No matter how beautiful, how cherished, how pure. All.things.must.pass.  

 I am deep into a sense of timelessness accompanied by an omnipresent feeling of finitude - odd combination, really. And in this jumble of emotion and anxiety and prayer, I find myself, again and again, reflecting on the beauty and sadness of  "the last times".

 

 

Danny's last frolic in the snow, at our old home.

 

Danny looking pensive after the last pine harvest, in Rupert, An all day affair, I brought sandwiches, and he ran around and investigated smells while I selected and cut pine for vinegar, tincture, cooking and more. We sat together and had lunch, as we always did on pine-harvest day, and I recall so clearly thinking, at night as we readied for sleep - this was as perfecta   day as I can ever hope for.






Our last Christmas in Rupert.
...peering through pointsettias.

Last picture of my comfrey stand, from our last summer....how I loved that garden.

There are so many "last times" I never knew, as they happened, would be the last; so it goes for every life. I think of the sit spots Dan and I had all over the land around our home - the heart shaped rock, I always wondered if my grandmother saw it when she lived in Rupert, when she walked the same trails as a young girl. The mossy "thrones" I gifted with crystals and sat on, daily, while Dan rooted around and investigated the area. The last time we walked up Montcrieff, into the "cathedral" as I called it...or took the other fork in the road and visited Lac Mahon - when was that? The last time we drove down Shouldice road to get supplies in the village, but stopped on the way home to gather some mullein...the last time we ran down the big hill out behind the little forest?

Our little stream

A favorite walk, into the woods

The Haunted Valley

Alert as always, in the woods

 A magical Beech that marked a special place in one of the woods. When I saw it the last time, I would never have guessed.....

When, exactly, which day, and how strange it is we would have had no idea, that we were saying goodbye.

The last time Dan ran up the stairs ahead of me, turned around and planted a big sunny kiss on my face (which he did multiple times a day). I loved that sweetness - when was the last time? 

Not this time - he was only about 4: 

But today, as I stand here mired in sorrow, for the imminent loss of him, and for all we had and shared and lost, I think of everything I do as maybe the last time - I baked his "magic mushroom" cookies today - the medicinal treats I've made for the past 4 years - maybe the last time?

Later we will toodle around the yard, just to get a bit of air and visit the trees - hopefully not the last time, but any time could be. All the freedom we had is gone - we cannot go for walks or drives at all, he is entering the final phase of his life, I am crippled with spinal fractures and disc disease; we stay inside, I work, bake, I feed him, we rest. It is a huge, wide open life narrowed to a very small one, but I love it as fiercely, as powerfully, because it is us, together.

The wide open fields are gone, the stream in spring is gone, the stair kisses - gone. But the love remains. And I treasure every single moment, of every single day.
Every "last time" will stay in my heart forever.

An update, and much to be grateful for

 So, abruptly stopped writing here back in July, when Daniel had taken a downturn and was off his food, peeing blood and his bloodwork showed signs of early renal issues, that I can help a great deal with nutritionally and herbally, but only as long as the dog will eat. And, back then he wouldn't eat. I really thought we were at the end.
Between my back, my computer issues and a host of other stuff I don't need to go into, August was a nightmare.  But as is my way, I've bounced back, we have a new laptop and insanely wonderful help from friends, business is slow but steady, my back has healed somewhat (disc disease is episodic, mostly) and, best of all, both our Very Old Boys are still with us. I have had some epiphanies lately, and thought - well Hell, it's Saturday, and while I have a thousand things to do as always, maybe I can take 20 minutes for myself and update.

Whatever is up with Dan's urinary tract, and no question part of it is prostate, herbs have helped. He will pee blood a bit, I increase his saw palmetto/pygeum etc, he stops. His appetite is now very good, and best of all, he is accepting NRC balanced food, which means - joy of joys - I can get more into him by way of heart, liver, prostate and kidney support.  I am sure it's higher in some minerals than I'd like, and we need to redo bloods soon, but he's back on hawthorn, astragalus, a liver blend, the prostate stuff, and mushrooms. No more cheese sandwiches and catfood just to keep his weight up. he is better, subjectively speaking. He does a 15 minute walk twice a day, with Alex when I am unable to walk, with me when I can. I feel he is doing well...physically. But - there is always a but, isn't there?

I've had a tough time admitting it to myself, but without question, Dan has the beginnings of CCD.

Over the last week, as I've begun to feel a bit better with my latest back episode, I've noticed a few things I can no longer write off as accidents, bladder issues or...whatever makes me NOT say "CCD" to myself.  he's still himself for the most part, he loves his routines and needs to be near me, but...

1) he pees in the house, often just after he's been out (and he's out, maybe once every 90 minutes all day long)

2) he gets up in the night and paces restlessly around the house for 15, 20 minutes or so

3) he seems to forget he's eating - walks away from his bowl, circles around, comes back and eats - over and over

4) he goes to the wrong side of the door to be let out or in

5) his normal, lifelong need to be with me wherever I am has accelerated to outright panic, I mean howling, if I'm out of eyesight for a moment now

...at the same time he remembers all "commands" and will sit, lie down, stay, leave it etc as always.He knows his schedule and goes to the fridge at mealtime, to the cookie jar at bedtime, to where his leash and harness hang at walktimes - no forgetting there.

But I know CCD, and I know my dog, and he has some. It broke my heart initially, but I am back in balance and remembering that there are many things we can do naturally, and the meds (Anipryl) work beautifully for many dogs (not all)...and so, I am taking this as our next challenge, and above all,seeing every day, every moment spent with him now, every new diet tried  and every vet test run, as a sacrament - visible presence of an powerfl, invisible Force. My love for Danny is immeasurable...my nurturance of him at this time, needs to be entered into with gratitude, not despair. It is service, it is my honour to do it, it is Love in Action.

I'll post more now I'm a little better, and a full entry on canine CCD on ThePossible Canine site soon as well. For now - tonight - off to snuggle with  my whole fur fam, sleep, and be grateful.
 

Danny as a baby, with a favorite chew toy

Last month, looking glum but actually in a pretty good mood

                          ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

And one last thought, before baking

Everything right now is Danny. And my friends would say, with varying tones that range from tender and  understanding, to amused and indulgent, to outright critical - "sooo.. what exactly has changed here?"

but the truth is, central as he is to my happiness, my daily life, my joy - there is a shift now as I am so panicked with losing him, and trying so hard to embody the "wisewoman" energy I am occasionally, very occasionally, accused of possessing.

And it's this; I can't look at anything without seeing a flashback or feeling an upswell of emotion I hardly know how to manage.

Example; the stand of Rosebay Willowherb is ALL ABOUT DANNY's prostate. 


All the Shepherd's purse and Sumac here  points me to the bleeding issue, that's what they are here for, Dan's prostate/UTI. No other reason.

I replace the newly washed bathmat he threw up on two days ago, and I remember a thousand times,  him curling up in it to sleep beside the tub whole I took a bath...the bed next door was more comfy,but nearness to Mom was everything. If I took a bath right this very minute, he'd be in there on that mat.


Rosebeads in the kitchen, made from the huge rose back at Rupert - I remember those days, gathering petals!  That oak mug I don't use so much in summer,  brings me back to so many foggy fall mornings out back, guzzling coffee- way way too much coffee - watching deer in the back, Dan so anxious to get out and get running.

Tatyana curled up with Dan, as she does all the time these days, brings back how Evita needed to snuggle with him when she was pregnant with Tatyana. He was not even a year old here.

He always radiated sweetness, warmth, innocence, joy.

We walk around the circle - 14 years ago I would have known most of the plants I see now, but now I can do so much more than ID them and talk about "uses". My plant knowledge exploded over the many years we spent in the woods together...the fields...and back home to my studies and his comfy bed at my feet.

I am in some strange liminal ghost world between the incredible gift of these vanished years (and especially Rupert, no matter how cruel it ultimately was to me)...and whatever lies ahead.


I want to do it all over again, so much.
I am stunned at how quickly a whole 14 years has vanished.
I look for a place inside to carry this, but it is too full of love to accept the load of loss and  sorrow.

I know I will find it when the day comes, when the absence appears - but not today.
Today is just about presence...and I do mean, literally, everywhere.

Two in one day...wait, one weekend....

...and I have a hundred tasks to do, but my pain really flared up yesterday, with Dan's reaction to his meds, and probably this new bed wedge I could'nt afford, but had SUCH HIGH HOPES for, but I hurt a lot more after two hours lying on it..anyway, I need a day off so once again, the hundred things pulling at me to get done have to wait.

I think this is what is currently termed a "self care" day.

I'm lying on my elevated sofa bed (it's on bricks, because I can really hurt myself getting up from too low a position) with Danny snoring beside me, tooling around here - etsy, pinterest,  blogs I follow not-about-dogs, videos on jewelry making...Alex is making pizza, a weekend ritual, we call pizza-and-terrorism, because we seem to watch one terrorist type thing after another these days - just finished Homeland and now a rewatch of 24. Alex prefers these types of shows, and sci-fi, to the moody British dramas and various fantasy series I tend to favour, but we have watched oodles of those and hey,I can appreciate a good action series, no question.

I have a few emails to get to and then basically I did nothing today...nothing work related, anyway. I made a meatloaf for the boys, and the usual 54876 dishes, and blogged here.
Moments like this life almost feels...normal.

But then, I took pictures with my crappy 15 year old digital camera, pics of the garden and animals, almost all crappy (because 15 years...) and the reality caught me by the heart again. I want to take a zillion pictures because this is probably Dan's last summer on earth, and I hate the idea of recording anything...because it is probably Dan's last summer on earth.

Wanting to record it all won out.

I had planned to start using the good camera Alex bought me over a year ago, but not in this heat wave (which looks like it will not break in the next two weeks) and not with Dan so unwell. Focus for me: work, staying in positivity as much as I can, feeding Dan. And making sure I have time for my cats (Mithrandir in particular suffers without regular, focused Mom time) and Zeke and Korky.

Spread thin, yes, but in the best of all possible ways...because the love of my animals, and the rewards of my work, are what keep me going, when everything inside me wants to just collapse into fetal position and  sob.

Today there will be blueberry pancakes (for us,and roast chicken, hopefully for Dan) and the last season of 24, and badly needed rain. And, today too, there is still my soulmate..weaker and obviously unwell, but still here and interested in food and his walks. Today, still, I have my Dan.


Yesterday

 

Part of a luscious stand of  Rosebay Willowherb - useful for bladder and prostate issues...

As always, The Zeke is concerned about Mom

Kitchen bouquet with herbs grown by me, and wild

The raised beds did not get put in this year as planned, leaving me with many more herbs than I can raise in pots. Many found good homes locally, but nobody wanted the mugwort or the evening primrose, seen as "weeds' by most.

I will just have to find places to plant them and watch them flourish - beautiful medicinals, both.






The lilac Alex brought me two years ago - something I miss so much from "home" (Rupert)...doing pretty well.

Danny, my love...too hot to be out much, but he still likes a toodle around the yard.

Happy Sunday, my peeps. I'm off to start my cooking.

..and where we're at today...

..leaning into gratitude, for the things that are still good.

Danny has not declined steeply, but neither is he much better. Well, on one front - the "gross hematuria" - vetspeak for a lot of blood in the urine, visible to the eye - has stopped altogether. That's an improvement...but, his weirdness with food continues, and we don't have an exact cause - he has some gingivitis, and he is too old to safely put him under and address that, so I offer soft things like pate and soft cheeses and cat food and meat congee, but then he insists on something crunchy and there's no sign of discomfort...I hate, hate HATE not knowing what' s going on.

Maybe one of the lessons now, one of the graces, is just that; acceptance.  It isn't my best thing; I figure, with all the things humanity can do (space travel, heart transplants, Haagen Dazs Rocky Road) we should be able to forestall ageing and we should be able to treat...well, everything. As an herbalist I hate flying blind, but maybe I am too dependent now on veterinary input (a truly great herbalist can work without it, though I can't say that on my science-y groups, or anywhere professional I could get slammed by those who don't get it).  So we are focusing on nourishment of body (any food he wants any time he wants it and in pretty much any amount, though he simply cannot OD on chicken liver or butter) and more joy,  despite this horrible heat that means I can't take him for several little toodles every day, and my mounting concern about my ability to make ends meet in a market just way beyond saturated with newcomers,  I will find joy.

And acceptance. I can work on that.

There are indeed face transplants and space travel  and Rocky Road -  but little help for my back, and Danny can't endure another ultrasound..and.... everything dies.

This dog...this Spirit, came into my life in a burst of joy,  his song was always Good Morning, Starshine - and he brought such healing and focus and beauty to my life I honestly wonder if I'd have made it through my fifties without him. And yet I not only made it, through so much tragedy and loss, I would actually consider that decade to be the best of my life - largely because of him. He came into my life full of joy, he will leave it as joyfully ( read; filled with gratitude and love and tenderness and chicken liver pate) as is humanly possible. I will keep his gifts in my heart and work, because to do that keeps him with me and keeps our beautiful lost years alive.

I can do this.

I may need help, and a lot of ice cream, but.
I can lose weight later.

He's so worth it.

Yesterday after his walk - he loves the walk but has no patience with waiting to get back in. <3

A Good and Quiet Weekend

 ...this last one was...

When I started this blog I had not intended the whole focus to be Danny, his decline and eventual passing, but rather a place to share the animal stories, kitchen witchery, my Avalonian and Druidic studies, herbalism and more that define my life. I had posted on Mallow and White pine for all the Rupert years, but since I'm still so torn up about that, I felt I couldn't just keep on with it.I mean, I open that blog and just cry and cry.... moving there was huge, leaving was devastating, and this is a new life. So, a new blog, right?   In addition to being Dan's Mom, I also have 5 cats, an irrepressible parrot, and Zeke, who was always Alex's dog but lives fulltime with me now (as does Alex) and whom I adore. I live in a magical little corner of an oak, beech and hemlock forest, in a HUGE house - I occupy the main floor, Alex has the second, one huge man cave, really -  and all our stuff from Rupert, the third. There is no garage or basement so that's meant we have to put all the "stuff" - mostly, ahem, Alex's - somewhere. It's a smaller living space or me with just the one floor, but a much better one than the house in Rupert; still, my heart yearns for the old days endlessly. After three years I should have made peace, but I close my eyes and it's all there - every magical walk, every misty  morning, every starry winter night. I feel that the house we are in now, which I call Owlhaven (you have to love a place with so many owls) is  an intermediate space, between the  magic of Rupert and what I hope and intend will be my own land and final home. There are so many aspects here to love, and I really do,  so I decided to blog this part of the journey in this new blog.

But, you know, Dan has been getting older and facing more challenges, so every moment I can grab to write, really he is mostly what is on my mind.

So that's what I'm led to write about, but hope to also start talking about some of the plants that surround me, we really have a beautiful array of wild plants and fungi - and the trees! I do seriously miss the silver maple (I actually bought Silver Maple china plates in memoriam, although the leaves aren't really right, I needed some china and I'm so intensely sentimental) and above all, the balsam poplars,but those  idiots who occupied my house cut them all down before I moved out - I will never forget the pain of that day, inside listening to these chortling imbeciles hack down the sacred trees I loved so much, helpless, - it was awful). So no poplars but a gorgeous array of sugar maple, red oak, beech, hemlock, smatterings of hop hornbeam, paper birch and elm. And although we had no birds at all the summer we moved in, save a couple raucous blue jays and one very enthusiastic peewee, we are now graced with so many - goldfinches, three types of woodpecker, chickadees, nuthatches, various warblers, a veery, a couple of thrushes, an ovenbird, loons, ravens and crows,and of course, the owls (mostly Barred, but also a Barn Owl makes an appearance as does a Great Horned, from time to time)

and the plants! For me, the essence of what is called "Witchcraft" (or  the Magical Path, or Druidry) is knowledge - well, let''s say knowledge is one cornerstone of it. All the pretty pictures in the world don't make you a Witch, all the great finds on etsy - it's knowledge as a core element that bestows a right to those titles. And the topics we need to know are vast -in this case, knowing the names and magical properties as well as all the healing aspects of the plants around you is a huge part of the Earth Path. And, there are many familiar friends here - St.John's wort, raspberry, goldenrod, ox eye daisy, plantain, shepherd's purse, mullein, coltsfoot, several types of fern, yarrow, ground ivy and many more...but there is also a huge array of mushrooms - reishi, ghost pipe, amanita - avens, corydalis, lady's thumb- and and sumac everywhere, some new allies for whom I feel a deep connection and am adding much more to my Materia Medica about.

The soil here is not great,  so we are building raised beds for my mallows, hyssop, monarda, motherwort, elecampane and betony, lavender and spearmint and more. But whereas Rupert was farmland encircled by smaller patches of woodland, Owlhaven is a cheerful cul de sac with more houses around it than I am used to, but backs onto deeper and wilder forest...whose mysteries I have been so thrilled to start penetrating. The journey has not taken me exactly where I had been aiming... but as the expression goes " If you want to make the gods laugh, tell them your plans". Right now, with so much turmoil in the world, and the challenges of my own life - my back, and Danny for two of the bigger ones - I am so blessed by this sacred space, this piece of true wildness - this sanctuary.

I hope to add more on the flora and fauna, as well as the spiritual energy of this place, in the months ahead.

My beautiful staghorn sumac

Silver Maple china by Royal Albert  - remembrance.....

This little rose has great significance for me, I will tell that story later on...

 A sign on my summer mantle - and yes, it absolutely does. <3


Here's to another "good and quiet weekend" ahead!

Today

Today he is good...he is still pretty good.

He refused several breakfasts, settling on a scant cup of Fromm Gamebird (always a favorite, but more importantly  it's novel - he doesn't want the same thing twice right now) and about a half a chicken,white meat only. Then he had his walk - zero panting or coughing, it's very cool outside - and had his medicine cookie when home.
Sleeping now, and in a while we will do some enrichment, and lunch.

I am so racked with pain, I will plunge into some work to get my focus off it for a little bit.


Such happiness we had. And the pain now, is part of the happiness then.

That's the deal.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XvpEVcCFnJY

Day Seven

Today I wanted to share a couple of my sweetest memories of Dan- (who is doing pretty well right now, he's being picky with food but I am offering him everything all the time so he' fallen into the trap, he holds out for what he wants. He is eating, though, just a mishmash of things, that are giving a little digestive trouble now, though not as much as I'd worried - so far) His bleeding has stopped, he's a bit more himself, but still  quite subdued most of the day...perks up for walks and meals.
We have some findings from the vet, so we know there is stuff going on - going for a urinalysis Tuesday and likely starting a couple of meds, which I hope will keep him more comfortable and buy us some more time. One thing we know - his heart has worsened. so whatever is going on with his prostate/bladder, the heart issue is looming very large as well.

He really crashed about a week ago, with the bloody urine, fatigue and inappetence. Right now, we have no more of the blood and he is eating well, but still  gets tired (I would expect that in a 14 year old large breed with heart disease) .

But I am aiming for a few good days, measuring time now in smaller chunks -  Tuesday we get more information about why his albumin is low, so I'll just try to relax into the time between now and then. Once we have more info I will know more about what to do with diet.And if he goes on Fortekor, which I hope he will, I'll adjust his herbs as well.

I am standing in the kitchen, on the laptop as usual, listening to the incredibly beautiful music of Peter Sterling - this track, actually: 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fuAs72VbsQ0

drinking my morning herbal blend (elderberry, orange peel, rose hips and cinnamon) and remembering....

Cherished Memory #1) when I first brought Danny home, I was still deep in my grief for Luke. Lila was inconsolable, she had started to pee the bed the night after Luke died, and continued to look for him in ways that were unmistakable and totally heart breaking to witness. I was mired in self reproach, that I had somehow caused Luke's cancer - the wooden deck out back, very old - did it have arsenic? Did all the fish oil I gave him hasten the bleed? and so on. Alex was basically living at his dad's place in Kemptville, trying to wade through the acres of hoarding bequeathed to the family when the old man died. Into this  emotionally fragile landscape came The Puppy. ...same breed as Luke, but what I came to call  the "Anti-Luke" as he was just so much the opposite in every aspect of personality.

The first night, Danny slept in a laundry basket in my closet, not sure about climbing into bed with Lila and me. He was  a little timid - overwhelmed if not exactly scared - so I didn't coax too much. Next morning - that first bright happy day with him - we went downstairs for bathroom break and breakfast, as we would every day for the next almost 11 years in that house. I wish so much I remember what else we did - but it would have been play in the yard, short walk with Lila (who had advanced cardiomyopathy at that time so we did short walks only, which is really best for small pups too) and meals, and  then more play. I think some of these images came from that first day:

 

oh, I remember carrying him over my shoulder!

Well, on the second night home he jumped back into the laundry basket, in the closet of my bedroom, and Lila got in bed with me (we had a King size back then to accommodate all 140 pounds of Luke) and we all drifted off. I figured, Daniel would come around and recognize the bed was ok  in his own good time.

It was a waxing moon that night... the bedroom was flooded with light when I woke up. I don't recall what time but the moon was low over the bedroom..and Danny had climbed up, snuggled right into my neck with his little face pressed right into my ear. He was gently snoring..I woke with a sense of love engulfing me, and just lay there, in the moonlight, with this wee baby sleeping so trustingly and sweetly  beside me. It was a moment I will never forget - neither Luke nor Lila, much as they both loved me, every snuggled like that. As he grew, Dan always wanted to sleep right next to me...under the covers against my legs, some times watching tv at night he would actually hug me,  throw his puppy arms around me and fall asleep. It was a moment of such joy when I woke that night, in the bed Luke had occupied for his 8 short years, I knew right then I was going to be ok.




Cherished Memory #2)   This one is short, but oh so sweet. <3

On Dan's first birthday, I made him the stew I had planned for Luke the weekend he died - Luke's favorite and one most dogs seem to adore - stewing beef, sweet and white potato,  made with a natural gravy (no onions!) Dan was always mad for food and loved his meals, but I didn't make this rich (and not very balanced) meal often - he was already showing signs of the digestive sensitivity that we worked with all his life. But when I fed him that night, he was so excited he kept pawing the bowl, pouncing on it! I had to stop him several times or the contents were going to fly everywhere. He did this little ...Happy Dance around his bowl, too excited (almost) to eat, and then finally leaned into it and demolished the whole thing.

I was still chuckling to myself when I figured he was done, that display was so cute - when I realized he was not...quite done. He had saved the biggest chunk of beef and was using it as a toy. Having licked the bowl clean, too, he was no tossing the extra large beef chunk in the air...leaping on it...shaking it a bit..throwing across the room...all in such a state of heightened  joy I could do nothing but stand watching,  convulsing with stifled laughter. I didn't want to disturb his dance...it went on a long time before he spied me,gave me the big startled eyes of that era-  grabbed the meat and finally, gulped it down.

That was Daniel to the core of his being - delight in everything. Absolute, total joy in living.
And he gave that to me in spades, everyday of his life.


I don't have an actual birthday picture, but this would be Dan in our kitchen at about a year old.

Isn't he beautiful?

My musings for the day. Now we are off for a little toodle around the block, or as far as he wants to go, and home for lunch, whatever he wants to eat.

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Day Eight

Daniel...my love. I know you can tell I am sad and fearful at times, although I do my best to hide it. It is only normal that I would be - but you need to know what else I feel. That it is a privilege to be worried, to love and care for you, to make your meals and do my research and take you to the vet and go out with you several times a day, just to break your now fairly monotonous routine with some sniffing and fresh air...that washing your bedding,  checking your pee, every last step of this stage is absolutely my honour, to give a little back to you, who just by your being you, have and still do, give me so so much.

I am blessed that we have had this beautiful, joyful, sacred time together.

I am blessed that it has lasted this long, which is much more than many are granted.

I am blessed by the joyful and loving presence of you in my life, today, tomorrow - and the memory of all our vanished days of happiness and joy.

I was so blessed to find you - to raise you, to watch you grow from a funny, wide eyed little puppy into a strong, dynamic, handsome young adult. Every wander we took down every forest path, new or familiar, I was so deeply blessed by your faithful presence and companionship.

I am blessed today to be your caregiver, your Anam Cara - your Mom, though some balk at the word, that is who you are to me.  Best friend, soulfriend, protector, companion, comforter, daily delight -and child.

Through all the changes and challenges of the years, and of the present, I have been blessed by you - the comfort or our daily routine, your sweet warmth sleeping beside me, the daily happiness of our life together - the walks,picnics, car rides, meals, long afternoons out back in the sun - simple joys, inexpressible love.


And I am grateful and blessed for these final days, with all their inherent worry and sorrow, because this is my time to give back as much as I can, though it can never touch all you have given to me. To love and care for you as your physical body fades - as the end starts to hover near - is my deepest privilege as it is my profoundest sadness.

And I promise not  let darkness engulf me now. I have loved you with all my heart and I will for all the days that remain to me. You are my Starshine, my Ray of Living Light, and that is what will remain, always, alive inside me.

Danny, my love...
I am blessed
I am blessed
I am blessed.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rh6r5hFPFng

Day Nine

It's been a while since I posted - a lot has happened. I'm still doing the Ten Days thing, although likely not consecutively. Over the past week, Danny has taken what appears to be a downturn - not one single thing, but a few - not wanting to eat normally (and refusing food with his heart herbs, sadly), obvious fatigue (although it IS hot) blood in the urine again which I was able to help with herbs (thankful for a relatively tasteless saw palmetto/pygeum capsule), until we can see the vet -  he's not himself. He's struggling to get onto the raised bed I have set up beside my now (I need a very high mattress since my injury). He can't seem to hear as well - still wants his walk but is winded very quickly.

In other words, he is suddenly seemingly very old.
Until very recently he was himself, with a white face and less energy (but still a good amount).

Things have changed.   I am telling myself that a vet trip can help - we can get him on some meds, test his blood and urine,  get more info, but likely all of the treatment, palliative. I can't put him through anything aggressive at almost 14. I see that he still perks up for his walk - is interested in food, just not his own - eats his cookies, tries to get cat food -  he's not completely enfeebled.
But, we are heading there.

And I just don't feel up to this task, emotionally - I am more than up to it in terms of making food and doing short walks and massages and little bits of daily enrichment - the week I just had off from the nonstop barrage of emails gave me serious time to be with him (and oddly,or maybe not  so much, that's when the decline became visible). But I seriously cannot bear losing him, I cannot stand seeing him in decline like this. The brightest, sweetest, happiest soul I've ever known. What am I going to do...I ask myself over and over.

I know we can likely get a few more months of life with good quality and comfort. I'm pretty sure of that.But I also know, now, since this week off, we are very near the end. And it is almost more than I can bear - but, bear it I will, for my love.

Todays "Day of Utmost Joy" is me feeling sorry for myself. Yes, Daniel has had a beautiful, magical life. Yes, he's been loved more than words can say. Yes, I will shepherd his passing with supreme love and care.
And none of it helps me at all.

 Still enjoys sniffing in the yard, of a morning.

Can't quite get on the bed alone.


I need to stay strong, and I will. But oh, the pain is intense and unrelenting.

Ten Days of the Utmost Love

Once again, I am inspired by something on Facebook, but feel the need to expand on it a bit, so turning to this personal blog to express what wants to come, from my heart and my soul.
There's a thing on FB, about posting ten days of your dog, just any pictures you want to share. I know we are nearing the end of Danny's time in this incarnation, that his physical presence will leave me soon, and so I wanted to devote more than just a snap on FB to this.

He may not actually be here in ten days. Or he may be here in ten months.

Or gone, anywhere in between. But we would be very blessed to have ten months at this stage.

Danny will be fourteen in mid august. That's very advanced old age for a Rhodesian.

Here he is a couple days ago, he looks kind of miserable, but mostly he's just tired now.Still happy, but much less energetic. Then again, he hates the heat.

But this isn't my pic of him for today, I posted this on FB and IG already. Today's pic is below, well ok, there might be a couple, from the first week I brought him home. And I just want to tell the first story, of how Danny came to be, how he and I came to be....for my first installment of Ten Days in the Life of Dan.


So, I had a Ridgeback before Danny, who I loved and adored, and can't talk  about to this day - he died, without warning, a few hours after his nightly meal and walk, from a catastrophic internal hemorrhage caused by a splenic cancer. He died on August 30, 2006, in the back of my van, just as I pulled into the emergency clinic parking lot.
Leaving Lila and I bereft beyond words.

For seven weeks I just cried and cried.


And then out of the blue, one afternoon I called Luke's breeder. I just needed to talk about the breed, about cancer, about why I know not to blame myself but did anyway - and I had a lovely chat with this lovely woman, whom I did and do admire so much,  we were on the phone I recall, close to an hour. And I was just about to say goodbye, when she mentioned - tactfully - that although it night be too soon for me, they did have a "surprise"litter on the ground, and a few pups in need of homes. Apparently someone had purchased a bitch from her, signed a no-breeding contract but let the bitch get pregnant anyway. So  now, the puppies. I was in no way "ready" and I don't even know what prompted me to say, sure I will come take a look. The fact the puppies were a 9 hour drive away didn't make it easy for me, but I have always felt that call (and my response) was one of those mysteries - a  "meant to be" scenario. So, a week later, off I went.  With Lila, a friend who was staying with me, and some cash that had unexpectedly arrived ( more serendipity, without that windfall I couldn't have bought a puppy anyway).

And we arrived, and there he was. When the breeder opened the door and let the boys in, all three of them,  the small being who would be Daniel, ran right over to me and sat on my foot, trembling (there was a lot going on in that room!) and looking up at me with these huge, liquid eyes (you'll see in a minute).

My friend turned to one of the breeders and said "I don't think we will need to look at any other puppies".
And that's how it was - instant. Just like that.

So Lila and I went back to our hotel, drank some red wine(well, I did, she was a tee totaller) and went to sleep. I awoke in the night feeling restless, and the song "Daniel" by Elton john popped into my head. I knew it was my puppy's name, he embodied Daniel-ness. (which in Hebrew means either Judge of God or Man of God, depending on who you read). And for me personally, has always reminded me of my own brother, who died in 2004, but I feel watches over me and has often communicated via music.

So that's how Danny came to be my Anam Cara - an impulsive phone call, an unexpected financial windfall, and an immediate, soul deep recognition.

This is Danny in my van shortly after we got home...in his little seatbelt harness...and some of his adorable wide eyed poses through the first few weeks of life in Rupert.

Just a few of my many favorites from those golden days, when he was healing my heart, making me laugh even while I still cried for Luke. He was (and is) a beacon of such pure happiness and love, my life has never been the same since the day I brought him home.

Redemption

 For the last year, I have rigorously avoided any form of augury or divination, for reasons too lengthy and personal to  detail, but I've  had this ability all my life and it seems, just deciding not to use it isn't entirely working. On impulse today (THAT kind of impulse, that comes not from you, but through you) I opened a book I was just putting away, one of a number in a large stack, and thought "whatever I open to is what  need to hear, germane to this moment in time".   And, this is what I opened to.....it absolutely blew me away with the relevance to this moment in time for us all, as well as my own journey through darkness this last terrible year.

Such a  gift. May it stir your soul's hopes as well.



Redemption

The fever breaks. The world returns.

How could we have forgotten this sun, this yellow day? Did we not see the birch, the pine? How could colours, and hope, have fled so from our memory? It was not good to live inside a scream.

We step cautiously toward the light. Our legs are unsteady. Outside, the wind still howls in the bones of the trees. The snow still swirls and rises, cobra-backed, into the frozen day.

But the sun again has life. After three weeks beneath a lifeless sky, we again dare to have a dream greater than survival.

We throw open the windows in the dark rooms of our souls. Light is streaming in.  Our spirits turn and rub their eyes. We are moving back toward the surface of our lives. Promise arches over all. We grasp, greedily, at time, and clutch it to us. All tomorrows’ mornings stretch before us, languid.

We are no longer islands. We gather, laugh, talk warmly of the time that has passed.
Who outside us knows of days where the cold stole away all the colours, where life was so frozen that every step had an echo?

Let others put names to our darkness, try to shape it into words and pathologies. They have not stared for weeks into a sun that gave no warmth, with the eye of a corpse, turning our every thought toward death? They have not watched ghost lights drop heatless and molten in a midnight sky, have not heard wolves cry out over frozen waters.

No, this is not illness. We may wish to have been born in the shadow of a mountain, where each day lifted our eyes in something close to awe. Or on the edge of an ocean, where infinity had a softness, and declared itself anew each sunrise. But we were born on the edge of winter, where our lives are marked by absences and fears, and a too intimate knowledge of the ways of death.

But, for now, it has passed. We have been plunged into frozen waters, held until we could not breathe, then lifted up, redeemed. The world assaults us with its beauty. No baptism could be sweeter, no salvation purer.
We raise our hearts in quiet joy and lay down our helpless sticks of fire.

Kent Nerburn

Native Echoes: Listening to the Spirit of the Land

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