Rusty, Annie, & Barb

It's Dec. 22, 2019 now. It's been 6 months since my fur babies have been gone. It's taken till this moment to write about my loss. I still haven't written in my journal about the events. It's too difficult to touch the cards of condolences, his little paw print card from the vet, hers from her vet and glue them into the pages. Just can't do it yet.

In April I learned that Rusty had two cancer tumors, one in bladder, one in his kidney. The one in his bladder grew fastest and began to cover his urethra so he couldn't urinate completely. He would stand, try, make his whole body rigid trying, and put out dribbles. My vet told me his efforts were energy draining and painful for him. She prescribed pain tablets until June.....Thurs. the 12th.

On aWed evening I called the vet and asked for the latest Thursday appt they could give me....."to do it". (The tears have come now. . . b-r-e-a-t-h-e) Rusty and I spent our last day of 16 years together mostly on my bed. I watched him sleep; I listened to his adorable little snores. I recorded them. I watched him and cried. I did his 3 tricks with him, he retired back to sleep easily, so I held him and sobbed gently.

I never had a pooch all and only mine that didn't die before age 5. 16 years, from my ages 51 to 67. 16 years and 6 moves (that's another story.) Day trips to the Pacific Ocean, the Coastal Redwood Forests, many trips to see family 4 hrs. away in Visalia. Long walks where almost every person walking toward us always smiled at his cuteness or maybe stopped to have to conversation about our dogs. Soooo many memories.

I can write about the moments of his gentle euthanization in his vet's lovely room just for that. I rent my apartment so I didn't have a place to bury him, so I had to ask for cremation of my best friend instead of carrying home his ultra soft fur one more time to bury. 3 weeks later I picked up the beautiful, tiny, engraved box (still crying here).

I carried it gently with the short shovel I'd bought straight, to the 65 beautiful private acres where I work on my day off. I knew the times and corners where there'd by no one around. In less the 3 minutes I dug a preselected place I'd watered the day before and placed the box in the ground. On top of it I placed a purple/white geranium plant. Quickly, I covered them both, watered again, walked the shovel to the trunk of my car, returned, then sat silently and cried (mostly) on the inside in case anyone walked by. It was done. Or, as Christ said on His cross, "It. is. finished." His illness, his passing, his burial. But not his sweet memories.

I watched his grave and geranium daily making sure to water it till our December rains. Readers who've long loved a pet will understand whyI (a teacher mom who lives alone now) it's still hard on my days off ,when I'm alone with my own thoughts. Losing something or someone brings back memories of others I've lost in my life: my mom when she was only 57, my friends throughout my life of cancer or other, even the loss of my marriage to an unwanted divorce . The mind just swirls to those sad places when not otherwise occupied. For me, its losing my cherished best friend. A sweet fluffy Pomeranian someone else abandoned in their apt when evicted when my gain. Rusty was docile, quiet (silent), happy, and loving to all my residents at Belmont Village, Saratoga Retirement Community, and now the Sisters, my friends, at the Sacred Heart Oakwood Retirement home. He sat on laps, he lay down calmly beside (sometimes falling asleep) the sisters. He let them tussle his fur and kiss his forehead. He knew 3 tricks I taught him during my knee replacement recovery. He did them over and over, and the Sisters, most who have Dementia, always clapped for him. Rolling a tiny ball with his nose was my favorite.

And then, only 13 days later....Annie died. But I can't write about that yet.