The Difficulty of Life is in the Choice

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When I got up today, I had a sense of dread. I knew it wasn’t my usual sense of dread which goes something like, “Crap, I don’t have a job, I’ve almost been unemployed for a year, and my unemployment benefits will run out in six months.” No, it was the dread that went “Tomorrow is Monday, and I have an appointment at the vet’s at 1:30.”

I did not dread it in that I doubted my decision about Rover; it was that I just dreaded the act itself. I had to put my cat, Caesar, to sleep about 5 years ago. He had heart issues at only 3 years of age; he was on meds for it, but then one day he had a stroke, and he lost all use of his back legs. After consulting with the vets and knowing I could spend thousands with no guarantee of any change, I opted to put him down.

When thinking about Rover and Caesar today, I knew that both decisions were difficult. But, I felt, as Tomas said, that Rover had a good long life. Caesar didn’t. Can you weigh life like that?

My UB said yesterday that his Dad died when he was 56 and yet his Mom (my grandmother) lived ‘til she was two weeks shy of her 103rd birthday. He seemed to say, “Why couldn’t she have given some of her years to him?” I have often thought the same. Why couldn’t have Granny given my Mom, who also died at 56, a few of those years? It may be shameful to admit, but it’s something that I thought once upon a while ago.

My friend, Chris, emailed me today and asked me if I was still in two minds about Rover. I told him I wasn’t. I agreed with Melissa (a.k.a., Tunabreath). It was time.

Rover meowed to go out.
Iz was there at the door, and I asked her to pick up Rover and bring her out into the front lawn. Iz knew we needed to bring Rover to the street, make sure there were no cars coming, watch Rover cross, and make sure Rover was let into Harold and Eileen’s house.

Rob was in the driveway working on a car, Rover waddled up and greeted Rob.
I said, “Hi.”
Rob asked, “Have you changed your decision?”
I said, “No.”
Iz quickly said, “Is Rover going to live with them?” I told her that she wasn’t.
Then Rob said, “Well, I’ll tell Barb. Maybe Rover can stay here.”
I said, “It’s time.”
He said, “Well, she’s got life in her.”
I sighed.

Iz was clinging to my legs, and I was unsure how much of the conversation she was understanding. I then said to Rob, “Well, I haven’t [pointed to Iz] discussed this with everyone. But, there’s no quality of life here, and I imagine there’s pain.”
He said, “Well, I will tell Barb.”

I was still firm in my decision; however, I felt badly that two people who loved Rover just as much as I did felt so differently.

I was so distraught that I cleaned the whole house. Usually, I clean the downstairs, and then say I’m going to clean the upstairs. Or, I clean the upstairs, and then say I’ll clean the downstairs. But, today, I cleaned EVERYTHING. At 2:30, I said, “I need to go out for a ride.”

It was 50 degrees, if that, a tad bit windy, and I really didn’t feel like going for a ride. I just needed to get out. I popped on my headphones, put in my water bottle, and I got on my bike. Within two minutes, my hands and feet were freezing; however, I kept going and going and going. I love the rail trail; well, I tolerate it. Who am I kidding? It's a love-hate relationship. And, today, it was more love than anything else.

I have voiced my rail trail complaints in a previous blog (see http://goddessofallthingslovely.blogspot.com/2009/03/adventures-in-cycling-for-george.html); today, I did experience a new rail trail persona! It was the person who walked briskly, carried a big library book, and was actually reading that library book while walking. It was somewhat like this, except picture her older, in a warmer coat, and with a more intense look on her face.



How does someone do that? Smart Human Tricks, I’m sure! I had nearly crashed 10 times in one ride just trying to scratch my itchy bottom!

I then passed a couple that I’m sure I had passed two or three times before. I might have even mentioned them in this blog before. They’re not unlike those couples on the HUGE Honda Gold Wings, who have the microphones attached to their helmets for communication purposes. Instead of yelling back and forth at each other, they quietly converse via microphone. I envisioned the cyclist microphone-bearing couples’ conversation went something like this…

“Whaaaat?”
“I need to stop.”
“You need shop? No. It’s not in our budget if you want to make it to the Champs-Elysees by the end of the tour!’
“No, I need to stop.”
“What? Stop? For what?”
“To pee!”
“For tea? But, I thought you only drank coffee?!”

Well, you can see where I’m going with this. These two looked like the guys from “Sixteen Candles” with the gizmos attached to their helmets.



I’m sorry, but geeks! And, maybe, just maybe, I was a bit more critical than usual given all that I had on my mind.

I biked the rail trail up and back, and while doing so, I pretty much thought about nothing but Rover. She looked horrible and was quite wobbly. I knew it was time, and as Melissa said, I was doing what I was because I love her.

The hardest part will be going to the vet's and then telling Iz. When at the market tonight, I picked up some food for Rover -- two cans of a fish dinner by Fancy Feast. Iz asked, “Is that all?”

This will Iz's first death. After all I’ve been through, I should know how it goes and how to handle it all, but I still don’t. You never want to be an expert at Death, although it might feel like sometimes you are. Time after time, no matter who or what it is or how it happens, it is never the same experience; but, nevertheless, it still always hurts terribly. ♥

Thank you, Melissa, Chris, Liz, and Tomas.