For those who loved Riley

It's too early to be up before a long drive, but this time I've got a passenger who can spell me, and this time especially, I feel like I'll need it. I haven't really packed. I feel all hollow and sad and I keep coming back to her last moments. Riley was so good, as she always was. We spent about an hour outside under a tree. She laid down in the grass between Dad and I, and just smelled the breeze. It was a really nice day- warm like bathwater, and it was really comfortable in the shade. Nap weather. She watched and listened to the activity around us, and gave me pointed looks whenever I stopped petting her. She was clearly tired, and was ready to sleep. I carried her back inside and she went straight to my room and curled up.

Kate told me days ago to listen to my instincts, and that day especially, it was so important. I went to get a towel from the car and caught the vet as she drove in. I had given the people my building number, but that information didn't make it to her, and it's difficult to find me based on apartment number alone. Those were the kind of moments I had all day, when I listened intently to my inclinations, and it went so smoothly it felt like water. This, of all days, was a good one to be tuned in.

The vet came up and explained the process again. She made some suggestions, including having some treats available to distract Riley during the initial sedation. I had been able to give her her meds that morning in the continued efforts to keep her comfortable, but she had refused her last pain pill, even though it was covered in cheez whiz and rolled in bacon. I had asked about interactions between the meds, but I was told there would be none. I wonder if that pill would have affected her coherence or comfort, and I feel as though she didn't eat it because she didn't need it.

For Riley's last meal, we gave her what she craved and constantly scavenged for, the one thing she was never allowed to have: cat food. She required more and more enticing in those last few days, and at first she was all about that cheez whiz. She ate probably four pieces of bacon that day. I think it was Dad who pointed out that if she was after cat food, so be it, so we'd already tried that with great success. I woke her from her nap one last time and carried her into the living room.

I sat on the couch, and we settled in. Dad gave her a handful of cat food and she gobbled it up while the vet gave her the first sedative. She was briefly distracted by that, and it took only the slightest encouragement from me before she returned to her meal. Dad gave her another handful and she happily ate it right up. The sedative worked fast, and she laid her head down in my arms and I smoothed her crazy hair. I put my favorite sleep shirt over her and rubbed her belly as the vet worked on her back leg. I kissed her warm head and whispered my goodbyes in her ear and felt her leave this world as quietly and peacefully as snow falling.

I wake up at night and scan the floor for her. I put trash in Riley-proof cans. I go to bed without one last trip outside. I leave the house feeling like I am missing something, because I am.

Dad said it will be coming home that's hard, and I agree. Even old as hell, mostly deaf and mostly blind, passed out cold in my closet, she would always know I was home. She'd catch a scent in her dream and roll right awake, reaching her nose in my direction.

This dog.

Dad said I should give her that last month and call her 16 years old. So I will. My 16 year old, lovely, silly, grumpy, loving, spoiled, happy, crafty, sweet little girl. I will miss finding her waking up with bed face, sprawled halfway off her bed, not ready to get up yet. She moved 12 times with me, rode across the country in my lap and went on countless road trips to fun places. She went missing once during a big storm, and survived many other incidents through her life, including a phenobarbital, red ants, a 15 foot fall off the porch at Topaz, a foxtail in her ear, raisins, dark chocolate, and two leaps from a moving RAV4- one intentional, one not. Her happiest day ever was at Yosemite, hiking all day and scaling boulders to chase squirrels. She caught two squirrels in her life- both here in this neighborhood- and once surreptitiously tasted a pet ferret at Topaz when she thought no one was looking. She lost a bottom tooth on the vacuum cleaner when she was 6 months old and they remained sworn enemies. She loved barking at splashes at the lake and fell into the water many times while trying to bite them. She loved boat rides and wandering freely along the shore where she would find sticks or something disgusting to chew on. She liked to sit up on the back of the couch like a cat, and you had to be careful because she might start humping your head. She'd eat Tracy's mac & cheese if it was left alone for a nanosecond, and she knew and loved her aunt long after we'd moved away. Her favorite spot to be petted was just under her hip, and she'd raise her leg, sending all the kids screaming because they thought she was going to pee on them. She did pee on many vets and groomers and once bit a FedEx delivery man.

Riley loved cheese puffs and broccoli, little male dogs, and napping in a towel on my lap after a bath. She liked to comb the dog food aisles at PetSmart for loose kibble, and would drag me to the cashier for a cookie, pushing through anyone in line. She preferred walking on my left side, off leash. She loved cats and was very good at making friends with them. She was such a food hound that she would jump up on the couch, put her front paws on your leg with as much pressure as she could manage, and stare into your eyes. When Ant was little, she'd eat his afternoon snack right out of his mouth, which entertained them both to no end. She liked to rub her face on her bed after a particularly good meal. She had a great mohawk and a curly butt. When she got really happy and excited, she would bite my nose. She was part mountain goat.

She was my ladybug, my little girl. I know now why I'm having a hard time leaving today. When I come back, it will never be the same.

“You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you. That’s where I’ll be waiting.”

― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

The shortest days

Alright, well... sad updates. I called the vet today for the pre-determined check in, and considering her condition, he felt it was time. I have a home euthanasia scheduled for Tuesday afternoon. I'm going back and forth on this, but then she'll wake up and I can just see it's true. The mass is causing her pain and she doesn't close her mouth all the way because her teeth are cutting into it. It's getting harder to get her to take her pills and I've increased the pain pills to the max on their directions. The vet said to keep up the meds if she'll take them, but not to fight her. He told me that the meds are only buying time, and a few weeks at most- the compassionate thing to do is let her go.

I've been crying most of the day, but Sarah and Amanda just took me out for food, beer, and ice cream. I had maybe half of a Like It- some lovely peanut butter and chocolate combination. The rest is in my freezer. I took Riley out around 5, and we sat in the shade on a little hill. I think I've been a pretty good dog mama, but of course right now I just feel guilty and inadequate.

Dad is coming up to be with me through this. I'm really grateful for that. I feel like I know how much this is going to hurt, but I know anticipating never covers it. I'm trying to absorb as much of her as I can now- pets and cuddles and kisses. Sometimes she wants to tackle the stairs on her own, but mostly she just waits for me to carry her. I use every time to kiss her and feel her weight, try to make her feel as supported and safe as possible. We've switched to entirely wet food and I don't count the soft cookies. If she wants more peanut butter than what covers her pills, she gets as much as she wants. I'm thinking about getting her one of those puppuccinos from Starbucks. What else can I give her? Bacon? Steak? Spray cheese? Mostly just time to sit outside in the shade, enjoying the breeze, the smells, and the company.

Right now she is sleeping peacefully on the floor in the middle of my bedroom. The lights are on and I've been puttering and singing along with my iPod a little. I imagine these muffled goings on are normal and comforting to her. She's resting her head on the right side, just like she's done every time she's slept in the past week. Her breaths come in almost sighs, and sometimes those puffs will fluff her eyebrows.

I am going to miss you so much, little girl.

Me and my shadow

I took Riley to the vet yesterday, and while I know that she’s old and is falling apart, the news of the latest diagnosis landed like a brick. It is technically possible that it’s just an infection, but they don’t think so. They think it’s a tumor in her jaw. This development came on quickly, and felt especially horrible because I have always been able to judge how she is by her appetite. She can still eat for now, and she still wants all the cookies, but the vet said she’s probably chewing on the other side of her mouth, so I have started putting water into her kibble. She’s back on antibiotics and pain meds, but they said it’s probably just about making her comfortable. The vet said it will be time when the bad days start outnumbering the good days.

I found a scale online that’s very simple with a range of 0-2 on each category, like mobility and interaction, with each rating clearly defined. Can you imagine trying to rate those things from 1-10? You can track each rating in a table with the daily total. There’s room for notes, and the totals give you a clear answer in pretty simple terms, kind of a red light, yellow light, green light with suggestions for how to proceed. The table has the date and rating for each category plus the total, so you can track deterioration.

So I was a minor mess yesterday. It’s amazing how hard it is to keep it together, considering this isn’t really news. Riley has had a long, full, happy life, and that is the goal. I was trying to think about it from a nicer perspective and came up with this: I can make sure her last days are not her worst days. It’s horrifying how many people actually surrender their animals to the shelter because they are old. Now’s the time to spoil her even more than usual, and to make sure that she gets her time outside, sitting in the shade and smelling the air.

But arrgghhhh, it is awful. I got some prices- the euthanasia is totally affordable, and it’s not much more to have the vet come to my place, which is SUCH a relief. The cremation is expensive, but I don’t like the alternatives, and if I get her ashes, I can let her go at Topaz, a.k.a. Dog Heaven. That’s been the plan for years.

The other awful thing about all this is how alone it makes me feel. I keep looking at my phone for someone to call, but this is really nobody’s but mine. It’s not as if I’m alone- I feel a lot of love from a lot of people who are really supportive, but I keep looking to that empty space next to me. I know I can do this alone, and I probably will, and my friends and family will buoy me up when it happens, but it sure does make me feel lonely. Even if there was someone in that space, it’s still going to be awful. I can see spending a few days curled up with Solo, who will also be feeling that loss daily. I printed out months’ worth of those tracking sheets, and noted how optimistic that was. I don’t get to know how long she’ll be around, and she could bounce back and outlive us all. This news yesterday reminded me again how it’s never the problems you expect. I know that, but I just cannot stop anticipating. That’s why we both needs those daily breaks to go sit outside in the sun or the shade and just be there together.

Like a diamond in the sky

Today was a wholly frustrating day. It should have been a lovely and productive day, and I wrestled it back in that direction, but it was definitely not going well. Nothing awful happened, it was just not working. I'm doing a neat editing job, and you would not believe the difficulty I've had in just printing a damn document. I will not get into all the time or programs or logins or blank pages or nonsensical page numbers or computers or emails or devices I have head to deal with, but I may or may not have been the one cussing in FedEx today.

It is possible for me to edit on a computer, and I do often, but this one I needed in my hands. By the time I got it, I was mad and hot and tired and crampy and in serious need of a cookie. Nothing else went that well today either- just a pile of inconveniences, like how the car wash didn't help the view-obstructing water spots on the windshield, or that the postage machine was busted after I finally drove my ass over there, AND Riley definitely has something else going on now, so it's back to the vet tomorrow. It was a full day of frustration.

What's nice, though, is that there are clean sheets on my bed, resting comfortably (just like I will be soon) under my new cotton quilt that Mom and Marty sent for my birthday. I slept under that quilt last night, and it felt so nice- nicer than I could have imagined. I've been all sweaty under my duvet even with the AC on. And no, I cannot sleep without a blanket on- everyone knows that's how the monsters get you.

It was lovely under that quilt, and it's a lovely quilt- a neat pattern and a good color. Solid choice, you two. I slept much better than I have in a long while, and I didn't want to get up this morning. I guess I shouldn't have.

Thank you!

Dead weight loss

I promised myself I would stop and blog the next time I had a thought like, "I will have to remember to blog that," not that I normally use blog as a verb.

I was just out walking Riley, which entails walking to the mailboxes and maybe around one building. Often, while waiting for it to cool down, I wait too long and she can't see me or anything because her vision is terrible.

Jennyway, she was wandering through the grass and I touched my face and felt something odd: my cheekbone. I mean, it's always been there, and I could always feel it- it just felt more present, which I guess it is. I have been playing tennis a lot, which is part of the reason I haven't been here, and I am seeing a difference in my legs. And a few weeks ago I noticed that my tank top fit differently- a way that was unfamiliar but nice.

Which reminds me... I went shirt shopping in a clearance section recently and of the two things that fit best, neither was appealing to me. They made me sad, as did the fitting room's angled mirrors. In a moment of clarity, I put it all on the return rack and went through the store again. I picked out all the fun things and paid no attention to price. I found that a lot of it fit quite well, and I could decide based on what I liked rather than what was ok. I bought two shirts that night that I LOVE, and while they were not clearance priced, they were reasonable. And they were items I could wear right now, not items I could wear once ___________.

Duly noted.

So much so, if fact, that I followed the same rule at another store and found a pair of capri PANTS did you hear that PANTS that look and feel fantastic. I have a 99% denim policy because it's what I feel looks best and they're so damn comfy, but I finally found a pair that do that in cloth. Holy shit, it's only been like 10 years that I've been looking for these.

So I went to the kiosk and ordered another pair. Worth it. Especially since it has been 100 degrees for days.

The Weekend

It's been kind of quiet overall, and I didn't end up going anywhere for the 4th due to some unruly endometriosis and diabetes. I was sad to miss out on tubing the river- haven't done that since 2007. It's alright though, because I was amazingly productive instead. I'm really happy with what I got done, and it was my hope to do that much over these four days off.

I did have some fun- I played tennis, walked with a friend, did yoga with my coworker, and went disc golfing with my neighbor. That was a lot of fun, even if it got super windy almost as soon as we got there. The course is near the softball fields where I played last year, and the course was maintained, but still very desert-y. It was dry and crunchy (it is definitely fire season) and the ground was moving with tiny bugs. I could not tell what they were, and I'm hoping that was normal and we are not having some horrible infestation. That all sounds miserable, but it really wasn't.

My neighbor, Derek, brought an extra disc for me and explained the course. It's basically golf but with much less equipment, and it's easy to play. The wind made it ridiculous, and a lot of sensible throws were thwarted. I started throwing as low as I could, trying to avoid catching the gusts, but it was a lot harder than it sounds. The sixth basket was along the fence and down into a gully, and the fairway was one of the highest, most exposed points on the course, making it a recipe for how to lose a disc. I threw right, knowing the wind would take it left, but the wind was coming up off the whole hill and that frisbee just SAILED... way left and right over the fence and into the tall weeds by the highway. I immediately started walking towards the fence but Derek ran past me and said he'd get it. We found a spot where the fence was pulled up- where countless other disc golfers must have crawled under- and he started searching. The weeds were so high that I couldn't see to help, even being on much higher ground, so I crawled under the fence and went to help. I found it after about 20 minutes. We spent some time brushing off the bugs and the foxtails and resumed. I refused to throw next to the fence again, but he said we'd just say my first shot landed near his. We didn't keep track, but he thought we were pretty evenly matched.

Now that you're wondering, my neighbor is 27, so don't get excited.

We played 9 holes and talked about going back for the games held once a month- you sign up and are randomly matched with another player to play the course in teams of two. It's something like 5 or 10 bucks to play- $1 goes to maintain the course, the winning team gets the rest. Sounds like fun, right?

So yeah, all was not lost this weekend, though it was not as full as I'd hoped. Today is my first regular day off after our switch to the 9 hour schedule and honestly, it doesn't feel like I am at work too long. I like that I can get more done and I'm there anyway- might as well crank it out. So for my first day off, I went to get the pedicure my students bought for me, then got a yummy breakfast at Squeeze In. This was the third pedicure I've had in my life, and I think I need to do that more often. They are foot wizards.

Next up is to collect and organize before I start a slew of errands, including thrift donations, buying dog food, hitting the post office, finding shelf pegs, returns/exchanges, and 2 doctors appointments, all in sandals to show off my beautiful feet.

Later will be tennis in the heat and leftovers from this ready to eat chunk of carnitas I found at Trader Joe's. Awesommmmmmme. I'm hoping to spend some time tonight on a new puzzle, but I'm still organizing the dining room area with it's new cubby format. I'll have the rest of the evenings this week, yeah, but I'm on a roll.

I hope you all had a wonderful 4th. :)

Riley update

Riley is feeling MUCH better. I called the vet on Tuesday morning and left several messages until I got to speak with one Riley saw. They are really good, but super busy. He listened to all my concerns and asked questions- I didn't feel rushed at all. He prescribed another couple medications, and I called back on Thursday with a status report. She seems back to her old self and I am very happy. She does not understand why I keep carrying her up and down the stairs, but the vet said one month, so tough. I put out puppy pads and she finally used them starting Friday, and several times since. I'm sure once she's back on her regular schedule and not on pain pills, we'll both be happy to have her do that outside, but I'll keep one out in case.

Looking at her now, I see why the vet wasn't talking about putting her down. She's ok- just old. A friend told me about a scale that exists to measure a dog's quality of life- you rate things like appetite and energy level and so on and put the number on the calendar so you have a measurable way to see trends. She said her vet told her you'd rather be a week too early than a minute too late. That is a scary, scary thought. Sunday through Tuesday were awful days, and several times I thought about calling someone to help me, especially when I had to do something that hurt her. I would have had help in a minute had I asked, but each time, I just closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I'd ask if it was for her or for me, and then I'd let that breath out and proceed. Thanks to the mindfulness class and Kate's reminders, I worked hard to try to stay present and minimize the hurt- to think about my state of mind and what I was projecting to her. And we got through it. Kate said she thought this was good preparation for what is to come, and I do feel a little more confident. I know where my line is, I know what's too much for her, and nobody is going to be able to make that call but me. Now I know that I can, and I have an idea of how hard that will be.