Took a break...

I took a few days off from the computer to enjoy the long, holiday weekend. I actually missed blogging, which is weird since I had never really blogged before Watson got sick...

I've been thinking about the Old Man every time I sit still, so I have been doing my best to stay busy. Sometimes when I am doing a routine activity, like doing the dishes at the kitchen sink, I try to imagine what it was like to have Watson standing in his usual spot right next to me. Almost like if I can think of him clearly enough, I can will him to be there. So far, that trick hasn't worked so well. Upon re-reading what I just wrote, it sounds a bit like the novel "Pet Cemetery" but I hope you know what I mean.

Any activity in the kitchen (aka "the food room") would bring Watson trotting from wherever he was sleeping. He was always so neurotic about eating that it bordered on comedy. If the treat were especially smelly, he would chomp first and ask questions later. It is an odd contrast with Baby Waldo, who first inspects whatever you are offering and then has to think about it before he accepts. Meanwhile, Watson would have swallowed your fingertips and gone for the rest of your hand....

But I have been missing the Old Man especially in the morning. I used to wake up and look at him, first thing. I never noticed that I did that until he was no longer there. It was just part of my waking. I'd look over to see if he was in his bed (yes, of course he was), and then I would wake him first by putting my hand near his nose. His nose would take a few quick sniffs and then he would open his sleep eyes. I'd always rouse him out of bed with ear rubs. I miss those ear rubs..... and the way he would groan - partly because he was not a morning dog and partly because he loved the ear rubs.


Lesley had left a comment a while back that time will work its natural course; that a few weeks on, I could perhaps look back and say "I feel better". I'm not sure if that's true yet.... I do look back at the several weeks he and I were getting up to go outside (because of the prednisone) and I don't know how we did it. We were both exhausted... I cried alot and could barely get any work done. So with some time and distance, that part of the sickness seems like I am looking at it through a fog. Like it was someone else doing all those desperate things to save his life and I was just a casual observer... it feels a little like an out-of-body experience. But even thinking about that time makes the anxiety and desperation lodge in my throat like a sour apple. That too feels distant, but definitely there.

I've also taken a few days off from reading/participating in the Canine Cancer Yahoo group. During that short time, several dogs have passed on.... It still scares me that so many dogs have cancer. They are like the amphibians of our environment - when our world is polluted, they are the first to show the effects of it. What can we do to make it right??