Boomer's at the Bridge Repost Aug 2007 Blog
Boomer’s at the bridge...
Looking back, I'm amazed by how well he hid his blindness...I knew he was losing his sight, the glaucoma was obvious. But he knew this house so well, he could walk anywhere surefooted.
I came home from work on Sunday night...he was on the big shag rug he loved by my desk...and I bent to give him his pet...he was sound asleep..he woke...and he had no idea where he was, he was so disoriented, stood up...waiting. So I reached over and typed the keyboard...he knew where he was, gave him a sound que.. and he turned to go to the door to go outdoors.
His hips were gone, the pain meds were a necessity, the pain meds tore up his stomach, causing more pain...it was time. Even in his pain, if I so much a choked up as I faced this final stage of our time together, he would rise and come to me. It's okay, I'm here. I going to take care of you. But this time it was time for me to take care of him. I'm going to fix this, Boomer.
He slept that night in a pile of my dirty clothes, face buried in that familiar scent....and I found him the next morning with his face buried in an old sneaker, more comfort from the bodies he loved. A dog...always a dog. He stood to eat, but that was it, the steps too tough for the backyard...we did the easy front. I gave him his adequen injection, the miracle arthritic drug that had given us this extra year. It eased him somewhat, but movement was slow, it was time. I called the vet's...called my work, set the day up. So much support from so many good people, Kathy, Tommy, Darcie, Shari, Terry...and Darcie says I'm coming, Mom.
Our wonderful vets...the friends Boomer saw every week, all there, snacks in hand, even the ones he was allergic to...his normal routine...he hit the sign in post, a post outside the door favored by every male dog entering...BOOMER! all the girls called his name...he's been the host of the lobby for the last year or so...picked his own exam room...wandered on across it and entered the back hall where all the lab work is done. This was HIS place.
And we went in...no other patients there, it was Boomer's time.
I held Boomer, Darcie held me, and he passed over....with loving hands on him, his nose filled with my scent... and voices he's known his whole life telling him what a wonderful dog he is ...and that Buster was waiting for him at home....
He's not in pain, I felt it leave, I felt him relax and I saw his face....and those sweet blind eyes...no more fear, no more age, no more...a strong heart, the vet said...well, yeah...it's Boomer, a heart as big as he was....full of love for all his humans...and bits and pieces for Rosie...
Always in my heart.
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The Power of the Dog
The Power of the Dog
by
Rudyard Kipling
There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie--
Perfect passsion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart to a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find--it's your own affair--
But ... you've given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!)
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone--wherever it goes--for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.
We've sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept 'em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-term loan is as bad as a long--
So why in--Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
Yes, I still miss him....from the second I go to get out of bed and have to put my feet directly on the floor, instead of rubbing that soft fur with my bare toes....laying there, even old and blind, protecting me.
Rosie is feeling alone, time for a companion...and maybe that look will leave her eyes...she searches everyday for her Pop...but she's grown up, the big little girl, handling it all now.