Posting error...please read this last blog from today...thanks to all of you for sharing this with us...
WorldWideWillie's last day, Saturday, April 9, 2011 was a bittersweet day; joy for the wonderful life he so enthusiastically shared with us and many others and almost unbearable sorrow that his precious little life came to an end.
Grief is a powerful emotion. It comes as an unwelcomed visitor you must somehow entertain. It starts in the pit of your stomach coming up to your throat in a rolling wave, released only by tears and sobbing. You catch a quick breath, recover, and it rises up once again triggered by a simple thought, a sight, a sound, a smell, a well intended word or a memory.
Relief only comes when the expanse of time between each sigh widens and gradually you become whole again.
This two day old grief feels heavy and burdensome. I want to run, to shut it out but there is nowhere to go. I’ve been here before as we all have been but its familiarity is no consolation. If anything, it frightens me recalling the way it lingered in the past.
Then again, I have always come back to a level place where the edges of grief were softened, replaced with memories that made me smile while recalling stories, too often repeated to the same willing listener.
Goodbye, our WorldWideWillie.
We already miss the jingle of your tags on your collar and the tapping of your toenails as you ran across the hardwood floor. I will miss seeing you sitting on the back of the sofa looking out the window as I breeze by the living room hurriedly passing by, ensconced in my day to day dribble. DDD will miss your company as he works in the yard in the summer and shovels snow in the winter, as he sits quietly by the fireplace reading the Sunday paper with your chin resting on his foot.
I fear going to bed each night anticipating the loss of your warm little body nuzzled up to my feet, your gentle snoring occasionally interrupted by the sound of your contented moaning. Your pet steps, two sets to accommodate the high bed and your little body, still remain in place. I can't take them away yet.
When Dr. Rebecca came you greeted her outside, happy to see a new girl, your tail wagging so fast it was barely visible. You always loved girls. You sniffed her bag for the trace scents of other pets like you, whose time had come to move on. You welcomed her. She gently addressed you and then us, knowing from our red puffy eyes, that this was perhaps harder for us than for you.
You had lived the life expectancy for your breed but our expectancy of your life felt cruelly cut short. And yet, our hearts broke for you, your endless coughing that had accelerated overnight, your labored breathing, the sorrowful look in your eyes begging us for the relief we had always freely given you when something was wrong.
A few days after we got the diagnosis and as the coughing had worsened, you hid away in DDD's closet. We were washing dishes after dinner and you came walking up to us with a terrified look on your face to help you. You had somehow gotten a white plastic hanger wrapped around your middle. You looked so worried. Normally, we would have laughed hysterically, taken a picture and of course, quickly released you from this embarrassment. But then, knowing your time was short, we soothed you, with oh's and ah's and quickly removed the hanger, knowing that only our Willie could get in such a predicament.
Relief was here, our little love. She gave you a sedative. You cried out as DDD held you tight to keep you still, this required grasp tearing at our hearts. You relaxed while we quietly waited for the sedative to take effect. We both had our arms around you as you lay on the daybed. We sensed the relaxation in your body, the easing of your breath and the end of the coughing as you quietly surrendered to the drug. The final injection was yet to come.
We spoke to you in a whisper telling you how much we have and always will love you, what a smart and amazing boy you have been and that time will never erase the endless stories we will recall about you. As she gave you the final injection, DDD held your little body as I held your little face in my hands with your nose close to my check, so I could feel your last breath. In only a few short minutes, with a tender sigh, it came and you were gone.
After Dr. Rebecca left, DDD said he wanted to show me something he found between the cushions on the sofa before she came. He opened his hand to show me an "opened” vanilla Oreo type cookie, the kind they sell at Petco. The lid was gone but here was the remainder of the cookie covered with the white frosting. Inside the frosting was THE DREADED PILL, still there.
The cookie half still sits here on the counter, like his pet steps by the tall bed and his water bowl in the bathroom, his Tiger Woods toy, the YaBaDaBaDoo Fred, and the red harness for the walks to Poop Park.
Goodbye, our WorldWideWillie. Thank you for sharing your life with us. We will always miss you.
We love you,
Your MMM and your DDD
posted by Jessica @ 2:54 PM
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