Greetings from southern Arizona.
It's been awhile since I updated the personal stuff. This has been a tough year for us. If you read the April 16th post about Grendel, you've probably figured that he's gone. He left us on May 16th. We were out of town for the weekend and our pup sitter had been spending extra time with him. The tumor inside his rib cage was just enormous and we had him on a blood pressure medication, pain medication, and a vasodilator med to help him breathe. We'd planned on making the decision when we got home regarding whether to send him over The Rainbow Bridge; he was starting to not want to eat, which is the worst of signs. Our sweet boy took that decision away from us. Chris had left the house at 3 p.m., then came back at 6 p.m. and found his body. She called us as our plane was landing in Phoenix, the last stopover on our way home. He looked like he passed quietly in his sleep, stretched out with his back against the couch (which was one of his favorite places). I was devastated not only that he was gone, but that he'd died alone, without me there. As I was reminded, however, by the man who gave us our first rescue to adopt way back in 2004, "He passed in HIS home where he smelled HIS people and he knew he was safe and loved. Remember that, because it meant the world to him." Thank you so much, Marc, and also to all the people who sent me good wishes on Facebook.
And to those same people who realized how we were already reeling from letting Goblin go on April 22nd.
My grand old man was one day short of 11 years and 8 months old. As I said on Facebook, I so wanted to see him make 12, but he made the decision for us when he stopped eating and drinking. He'd been okay for awhile, toughing out the nausea from the arthritis meds, but eventually even those couldn't help his lower spine. Even now I tear up when I think of him, and I look at some of the pictures and can still feel his soft fur under my hands.
But we go on, because we must. Ghoulie is dealing with it, but she's changed a bit-- less confident without her siblings. Eventually we'll find her company, when the right time comes.
So that's what's gone on in our lives as far as fur babies. The Husband and I are still writing, of course, and although there's plenty of news on that front I think I'll save it for another blog post. This one's making me all teary, especially since yesterday marked a year (already!) since Ghost left us. Time passes, and it heals, but it's a slow, slow process.
'Til next time...
It's been awhile since I updated the personal stuff. This has been a tough year for us. If you read the April 16th post about Grendel, you've probably figured that he's gone. He left us on May 16th. We were out of town for the weekend and our pup sitter had been spending extra time with him. The tumor inside his rib cage was just enormous and we had him on a blood pressure medication, pain medication, and a vasodilator med to help him breathe. We'd planned on making the decision when we got home regarding whether to send him over The Rainbow Bridge; he was starting to not want to eat, which is the worst of signs. Our sweet boy took that decision away from us. Chris had left the house at 3 p.m., then came back at 6 p.m. and found his body. She called us as our plane was landing in Phoenix, the last stopover on our way home. He looked like he passed quietly in his sleep, stretched out with his back against the couch (which was one of his favorite places). I was devastated not only that he was gone, but that he'd died alone, without me there. As I was reminded, however, by the man who gave us our first rescue to adopt way back in 2004, "He passed in HIS home where he smelled HIS people and he knew he was safe and loved. Remember that, because it meant the world to him." Thank you so much, Marc, and also to all the people who sent me good wishes on Facebook.
And to those same people who realized how we were already reeling from letting Goblin go on April 22nd.
My grand old man was one day short of 11 years and 8 months old. As I said on Facebook, I so wanted to see him make 12, but he made the decision for us when he stopped eating and drinking. He'd been okay for awhile, toughing out the nausea from the arthritis meds, but eventually even those couldn't help his lower spine. Even now I tear up when I think of him, and I look at some of the pictures and can still feel his soft fur under my hands.
But we go on, because we must. Ghoulie is dealing with it, but she's changed a bit-- less confident without her siblings. Eventually we'll find her company, when the right time comes.
So that's what's gone on in our lives as far as fur babies. The Husband and I are still writing, of course, and although there's plenty of news on that front I think I'll save it for another blog post. This one's making me all teary, especially since yesterday marked a year (already!) since Ghost left us. Time passes, and it heals, but it's a slow, slow process.
'Til next time...
