Whew boy! Sadly, the weekend's ended. A new week begins. The hint of summer, just days away, has always lifted my spirits ever since those end-of-school, beginning-of-vacation inculcations of my youth. The approach of another June is no different. Well, save for my platter which presently has some pretty weighty stuff on it. Stuff that until digested, anchor down spirits otherwise itching to soar.
And so, with the end of our national weekend honoring the dead, it's back to those weighty issues of the living. From global to personal, they are many. But that was the beauty of three days with attentions distracted by memories of loved ones passed. Maybe some of us visited those flagged and flowered places that trigger the resurrections of loved ones, if only in our minds. Or maybe we gathered with friends. Or cooked out, or dined out. Or, maybe some just gave thanks.
Thanks is what I mostly gave the past three days. That's because a veterinary clinic visit was out of the question. It was a three day reprieve for the wife and I as "gods." And it was a three day reprieve for our dog, Po'. And that's where it's so damn hard playing gods. Because for all we know, Pony may have been wishing it was a shorter weekend these past three days. Or maybe she hoped it would never end.
Over the weekend I received a call from an old high school friend. He and his wife were debating what to do about their beautiful Lab' of nearly 14 years. Having cancer surgery a year ago worked well, but the debilitations of time are now taking their toll. My friend wanted to discuss a scheduled sonogram for their dog and having had two greyhounds who each had a sonogram, I suppose I could speak to that. I told him, in the case of our two, the sonograms did little to "conclude" anything, i.e., both of them died eventually anyway.
But grappling with our own dog's problems, he and I commiserated for each other's ailing animal and the roles which we now share. We were one shy of a Conference Call of Gods. I expect we'll each know more as the day unfolds.
As I went into the predawn garage this morning, I glanced out on the patio where Pony, my old editor, chose to move several weeks ago after the association of her pain with the house became just too strong for her to spend much time inside anymore. She spends her nights on what has become her chaise lounge.
Lying in the darkness with a soft breeze raking across her, I knelt to say "Good morning!" To stroke her ears, rub her belly and kiss that old, now whitened head of hers. She responded in kind by reaching out and holding my arm as she always has.
Moments later in the kitchen, I turned to see Pony coming through the doggie door. Turning, she immediately went into the computer room! This is where she used to sleep. On a loveseat adjacent to the computer, she spent the past year establishing this blog, serving as my editor. And now, to my surprise and delight, she was back after several weeks absence! After that, there was no way this could be Pony's last day on Earth.
But my elation soon faded. Old Po's discomfort wouldn't allow her to stay. She jumped down after a minute or two. But to her credit, she tried twice more to find her old spot on the loveseat in which she had spent hours of so many days, but that spot's no longer there. Pony just couldn't stay. Conceding, she returned to the patio in darkness, to her last comfortable place on Earth.
Pony's days are hell, marked by constant stress and inability to rest anywhere--even her chaise lounge. She staggers around in a valium haze, the promise of her latest medicine unable to break the pain or her addiction to what little pain relief the valium gives, which some days is little. Thankfully, Pony's nights are better. We think it's because her days exhaust her so from all the discomforts and stress. Maybe today will be Pony's last day?