Posted by Dinah on October 26, 2011, at 16:47:05
In reply to Re: She's gone, posted by annierose on October 26, 2011, at 15:17:23
I'm picking up all the paraphernalia of illness that's been part of our life for so long. I don't want to remember her that way.
One thing the vet got wrong is that he thought that my love for her grew out of her fragility and the care I took for her. I'm not that saintly. I was already head over heels for her when they found out she was sick, and it's because I loved her so fiercely that I was able to take care of her with wholehearted enthusiasm. I know that care for her was a big consideration for everyone in the family, but oddly enough in our interactions with her it seemed peripheral. She couldn't eat certain things, we didn't stress her overly much, we tried not to go out of town, and she had medications and special foods and fluids. But that wasn't who she was. It was just something she had to put up with and we had to put up with. It was just something we did. No one that vibrant could ever take on the role of frailty. I've had that with other dogs, certainly, but never this one. She was a robust working dog who happened to have bad kidneys.
So I'm pulling down the drips, and picking up the cotton balls and needles and alchohol, and packing up the extra foods and medications to give away. I want to remember her every day. I want reminders of her around the house, no matter how sad they make me. It's not that. But these things make me angry to see, because that's not who she was. It's what stole her from us way too early. She'd have been four on Christmas eve.
poster:Dinah
thread:1000491
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/psycho/20111017/msgs/1000884.html