Just yesterday I found a picture in my website, of me at the Blair Animal Hospital, with a very baby-Danny, at one of our puppy kindergarten classes - me so much younger, him a wee tyke in his puppy vest..first, it reminded me that I was able to actually smile only a couple of months after losing Luke (and that was a terrible tragedy, at just 2 weeks past his 8th birthday, zero warning). But next, my self-blaming PTSD brain fired off a horrible self incrimination - AS IF I NEED TO HURT MORE - which went something like this:
"yes, there he is, so sweet and adoring and darling, little did he know he would die on a cold vet clinic floor , unable to breathe, and without me even able to hold him".
I walked around with that thought searing into my gut for a few hours. This flagellation finds me wherever it can, and always ends up the same; I let him down at the end. We traversed this beautiful life, he saved me from so much, we had such joy but OH NO - evil terrible ME went and let him die in a way that neither of us could have anticipated and was certainly, far from what I hoped for.
But all the evaluation I am doing suggests this is PTSD talking, tapping into some deep roots of selfdoubt and unworthiness that just seizes me when it can. So, sorry - no - I choose today to look at that image and see some thing else.
"yes, there he is, and he will be gifted with an extraordinary lifespan for his breed, at least 2 1/2 years past the expectation - ALL of which will be characterized by being the most loved little being on earth, by total devotion from his human, always regular schedules, always excellent food, vet care as needed and many happy walks around the forest, free as a bird. Yes, he will become ill at the end of his life and have a bad last day (with a few confusing weeks beforehand but mostly pretty good even at the end, as he was throwing boots around and bugging me for food till that last awful trip). But even then, his human who adores him will be doing what she can to try and find answers, to prolong his life. This little boy will be so loved and forever missed. A pretty good forecast ahead, if only all little boys had the same sort of future".
And there you have it - a simple gesture of consciousness, and look at the difference.
I felt this physically, when I did the reframing work...the release, the lightness, a tangled cloud of darkness ejected from my being.
Later on I learned that several of the other puppies in that class - purebreds all - had died before their 2nd birthday.
These PTSD-driven challenges come up for me all the time now, sadly. A larger example is the whole concept of...January.
January was to be the last full month that Danny and I spent together - of course, I did not know that as we set out to start the New Year. For the duration of the month, I worked harder at my day job than possibly ever before in my life; I am egregiously behind on several projects, many of them money makers and several, I have invested a lot of money into (herbalism courses, two in the $3000.00 range each). I had become so overwhelmed with all the backlog, that I'd almost given up - my partner's health crash, then my own, our need to move in 2016, on and on - I began to feel like it was all pointless, I could literally work 24/7 and never be caught up. But then, over Christmas, I saw how it could be done - I made a yearlong plan of attack, a larger five year plan, and - most challenging of all - I cleared, organized and filed 6 large cardboard boxes of notes, half written articles, client files and so on from my office.
I started 2021 ready to move ahead and get to my goals, at last. This was a move on behalf of us all - my health and sanity, of course, but also on income, short and long term, thus the security of everyone. I set aside several hours in the morning to focus on course completion (the ones I am taking) work on curriculum (the courses I teach) and anything else that needs doing, such as adding client material (I send handouts to each client, on their dogs conditions, on cooking, supplementation etc and have been working to expand them for over a year)..and then, very strict client hours. Weekends were for marketing (newsletter, blog)and marking assignments. The ultimate goal is more time for me/more passive income from courses, so I can take a lower client load and focus on writing my book...start having weekends again to enjoy a bit of life and not just work incessantly.
All good - my life had become very chaotic and the reduction in stress for me, the completion of multiple tasks - badly needed. I felt focused and proud of myself. The actual work I do flows easily for me, but all the massive extra stuff - marketing, organization, replying to inquiries - does not. And a chronic state of overwhelm is not a good thing for anybody.
And so it was that even as Danny lay on his bed beside me dying of cancer, our last month of 170 months, I got up at 6, made coffee, listened to video classes while tidying up, stood here doing clients all morning and then after lunch, lay down (and did client work) all afternoon, often getting back up and standing here doing email replies etc all through suppertime, noticing him playing with boots and cat beds but not joining in, because I had to work...work...and work some more.
The night before he died, he got up at 2:30 and I got up with him. I had noted him straining to pass urine around 7 pm, had emailed my vet who set up an ultrasound at 11 the next day. Throughout the night, he went outside several times and could not pass anything. There was literally nothing I could do but wait till my vet got up and see if he could meet us at the clinic early - I was BESIDE myself, all night long, but guess what? I stood here beside him and did a dog diet. Because I had fallen behind schedule and there was nothing else to do but stand here frantic, or pace... so I...did a dog diet. I checked email every ten minutes, I let Dan try to sleep...and, I worked.
Somewhere around 7, the vet emailed and we were out the door. By that time Danny was showing signs of real distress. But he slept on the way to the clinic and accepted the catheter unflinchingly - amazing. Of course, he felt better afterwards, and we drove home to wait for the 11 am appt. I remember I was unsure about feeding him, in case he aspirated during the procedure - he hadn't had breakfast and would have been hungry. I just gave him one of his mushroom cookies, and we went back, for the ultrasound. During the procedure he developed breathing problems, collapsed after they brought him out to me, and when I found out that he had advanced cancer and given the TYPE of cancer (painful and difficult to treat) I decided to let him go...to stop his pain and distress.
The bright eyed old man who was badgering me for food at 10 am, was dead by noon.
So there it is - my guilt about January. I had met so many personal goals, had started to feel like I could actually manage both the client load and the backlog, was feeling stronger about my work than I have in years. That's what I did in January, I focused on WORK. On things I had been dragging behind me for years. Instead of spending that time in sacred space and communion with my boy. I...worked.
I have hated myself so much for this, SO much, but I have to clarify (this blog is a healing journey for me and I know pretty much nobody reads it, but it is healing all the same)....there is a reframing potential here as well. One that may help me in my babysteps forward, at least release me from a torrent of guilt that is, truly, not called for and so painful.
#1. This first point is probably the most important, and carries some powerful messages for me, going forward as well.
I stood here working because I did not believe that Danny was going to die so soon.I had been in full throttle anticipatory grief for three years, since his heart disease diagnosis, and then subsequent bad reaction to the meds. I had become completely focused on prolonging his life and was privately SURE we would see his 15th, and maybe even 16th birthday. After his urine improved 90% post antibiotic (a brief respite in late January) I was sure we were on the right track. I was SURE it was not cancer and that we would get him on Doxepin for the GOLPP and I'd amp up his natural support and we'd buy a second air condition for the summer (heat is hard on GOLPP dogs) and we were going to have time. Insanely, I emailed my vet about possibly neutering him, a few weeks before he died. I was sure all this blood was bacterial prostatitis and hypertrophy and we.would.beat it.
That's why I stood here working and trying to make our future better, because I still believed WE HAD ONE.
Not such a terrible thing, after all? 
#2. Further to the point above, Alex always says that if I HAD known this was cancer, I'd have been a basket case all month and it was probably preferable that I had my strong belief we would be ok a while longer. Even thought I was terrified of the ultrasound, I figured that if he had a respiratory episode, he was at a vet clinic and they would bring him out. Which we would have done, had he not been full of cancer.
He was 14 1/2....every day was a gift.
#3. All through the crazy-working January, I made time for Daniel always, as I always did. Our little rituals were not changed, save for the odd late dinner. He had his breakfast routine (mushroom cookies, livers, a little muscle meat, sometimes kibble) and then we had lunch (poached salmon or sardines, alternated, two egg yolks, cooked to his liking, canned tripe, buttered toast, sometimes cheese slices) and then we lay down on the sofa and he slept while I worked. Dinner time I tried my best to get a brown rice/meat mixture into him, as he had stopped eating veggies altogether and was constipated. Often I'd resort to sprinkling still more organ meat on top to entice. Often, he would eat some, and then get up at 3 am and eat more.
Bedtime, he had his Old Mother Hubbard cookies. Often he would pick at food at dinner and then get up at 3 wanting to eat. That was, of course, ok too. <3
Anytime he peed all over the place, which at the end was pretty much nightly, I just cleaned it up; I was constitutionally incapable of getting even slightly annoyed with him, and besides, it's not like he could help it. (that feels like patting myself on the back for basic decency, but still).
I continued to research everything I could about bacterial prostatitis, about GOLPP, trying to find more and maybe better ways to cope with his issues. He was never not a priority - despite the working. If I didn't have to work so much I would have spent more time actively with him - but he was so old, he had only short bursts of energy anyway and I was pretty much always aware and present for those....despite the workload.
He was safe, he was loved, he was so well cared for. It's just a reflection of the level of love I have for him I only wish it had been more.
So here's my reframing of the January guilt.
Danny, my love. You know I have had so many struggles over the years, and that by the last month of your life I had worked through many of them. It was time for me to get fully on track workwise and clear up everything dragging behind me, time to tackle the next phase of my journey. I believed we had more time - I was worried 24/7 about you but I stayed determined to help us both - me to grow stronger by getting in control of my chaos, and me stronger meant more ability to help you. My goals were longterm, to be sure - and on one level of course I know you would be gone. But me being ok is part of your legacy - all that I overcame and accomplished in my life this past 14 years, was made possible because of you. You and I are a Mystery of love and grace that most people will never fathom, but that's ok. You know I stood here working so I could cope better with ALL THAT HAS BEEN PUT ON ME - and you know my love for you never wavered. If I could have you back I would, as the song says, give up everything I own...everything. But since that is the one thing I cannot have, I strive to be ok, to help other dogs and their humans, to give meaning to our legacy - YOUR legacy. I am so sorry for the abrupt and frightening last few hours - but I was TRYING TO SAVE YOU. And, given how we were and will always be to each other, maybe the fact it was fast is a hidden grace. I feel as if we had to be ripped apart, as neither of us would let go. So at least it was quick and at least you had me with you. Given your GOLPP, it could have been just SO much worse. I will try my best not to feel bad about every minor thing, I will focus on how much I loved you and how incredibly unique your life turned out to be, all the joy we had and all the love and transformation you gave me - and not on faulting myself, as Alex would say "for breathing".
I love you, I love you, I love you. And nothing will ever change that. I promise.
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