Saturday, July 3, 2010

The Summer of Loss

I hold myself together during the hours of a crisis.  I cried a bit when I knew it would be the day I couldn't go on thinking Cyrus was okay, thinking he could make it through another day.  And  I'd been told he was on the maximum dose of pain medication. The level of antibiotics was as high as it could go.  Finally nothing was helping.  It was all getting worse.  And maybe he'd been suffering too long.  Maybe I was just selfish in keeping him with me to fill my need to have him here.

Every day since his death there has been the oddly timed firecracker popping off somewhere on the block, or just behind the house in the alley.  And the reflex holds to not react, so as not to feed his terror of anything that sounds like gunshot.  I look over the bed to see how he's doing.  It's just a reflex.  But I will always hate the Forth of July for all the terrified dogs. 

The orange and cream Tibetan rug that was under his tempurpedic mattress and cedar bed on top of that is now bare and visible.  It could be a treasure exposed, but it just seems like an absence, a loss, a minus in my life.

Yesterday I spent most of the day crying.  Loss is always my fault.  I cannot grieve, it seems, without believing that somehow, if I'd done something differently, Cyrus would have made it through another summer then a fall and then...  I know why I have to blame myself.  It's the phantom pain of the scapegoat.

I have a few more days of dog-sitting Roscoe.  He spent last night here.  We had a little slumber party.  It's probably the last time I'll sleep that soundly for a good long time.

5 comments:

Jerry Critter said...

The Rainbow Bridge

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

I am sorry for your loss. Dogs are part of our family. And it hurts when they go...

sunshine said...

I'm so sorry to hear that Cyrus has passed away.
My heart and thoughts are with you during this terribly difficult time.

((Hugs))
Laura

D.K. Raed said...

Oh UT, I did not realize, had to scroll down below. The hardest decisions are made for the benefit of others. In this case, Cyrus has benefitted from you not allowing him to suffer with pain.

Having just gone through this with our old Lab a couple yrs ago and now staring at Clyde who is falling over a lot, so old and wobbily and weak, I know how deep your emotions must be running. I'm so glad Roscoe is there to help you through the next few days. Little Marley, too!

No fireworks can disturb Cyrus now. He sleeps peacefully and lives in your heart.

Freida Bee, MD said...

I'm sorry, Utah. I lost my Barbecue (15 years old) a couple months ago. There was none finer, and never will be. hug.

Tessa said...

I'm sorry that you lost your friend and companion. When you begin to feel better, you will have the comfort of knowing that you rescued Cyrus from a life of abuse and made his later years comfortable and happy.