How Much Beauty I Saw in Her...

 

I have loved several animals in my life.  Animals who provided solace in times of need, care in times of sadness, hope in times of loss, and love…always love…

My oldest has lost all semblance of relationship with me.  She spends her days in a type of sleep that can only be described as comatose.  Sometimes that sleep cannot be achieved as she is suffering to much with her bad back or her kidney failure, that has been pushed to rougher seas, when I have to drag her to a hotel in order to work and pay our bills.

When she once loved a car ride of any length, they now cause her fragile kidneys to flair up into an infection that requires me to stick her with a needle to deliver medication twice a day, until the rotten smell of her infection dies down once again, and she can go back to the sleep of old age and slow descent.

I have decided to put her down tomorrow, as I must go out of town again for almost two full weeks and it will be a long stressful drive with an infection already raging.

I am struggling with the decision because it is so powerfully convenient for me to do so.  Living with her has, long ago, become a stressful process.  Watching the suffering she goes through when her back or her kidneys flare up.  Listening to her early morning scratching on the floor, which she is prone to, whenever her pain reaches levels to high to manage.  (Yes I give her pain medication, and as far as I can tell it does nothing whatsoever for her.  Once in shear desperation I gave her several pills, which finally she just threw back up.)

I have come to the place that my life would be better without her…and that causes me agonies of self-doubt.  I have never had to put a dog down before, yet I should have a strong constitution for it, as I was very capable of letting both my parents go without strenuous and prolonging maintenance care, that would have protracted, but not enhanced, their lives.  I suppose the difference is that they could agree with the decision, whereas she cannot.

In her youth, she was such a good pet.  Smart beyond all measure.  Beautiful in line, form, color, and grace.  Regal in bearing, behavior, and deeply composed…I found her to be elegant, civil, and more like a cat than a dog, in how she handled our interactions.

She never begged or pleaded, like my other dogs.  If some condition where not optimum, like I had not fed her on time, walked her early enough, or opened the door quickly enough…she would come into the room I was in and merely look at me.  There was no judgment in her gaze, no need for atonement on my part, she would simply inform me, with her golden eyes, that I had forgotten some essential care that needed addressing as soon as possible.  She did not approach, or bark, or whine, or pant…merely and only…gazing.

But each time, I knew exactly what was missing or neglected, and her very regal bearing would get me up out of bed, or off the couch to come to her aid, because she deserved it, and I could give it, and I wanted, always, to give her the best.

I suppose if it were not so horribly convenient for me to put her down now, rather than later, I would not feel so awfully conflicted about it.

I have on many occasions thought about this day and had decided that when she would no longer eat, that would be my cue.  But that was before I had to travel and drag her away from the sleep that makes her days easy and, in some measure, comfortable.

So many things have ended this past year.

I stopped believing, even for a moment, that I would ever become the spiritual teacher that I had once yearned to become.  My beloved teacher died.  I let all of the relationships, that only I seemed to care about, go… the strongest of which was three decades in the making.

I stopped searching the horizon for a better life, and became capable of sitting silently inside myself listening to the whispers of an internal rhythm that feels like home, but is not as accessible as I would like it to be.

I have created and crafted for myself, endurance and calmness, silence and stillness, equanimity and poise, but not the bloom of promise that I once had hoped might be mine.

I do not know how that weaves together with the decision to end my dog’s life…but somehow they are a part of one another.

I sat down to write this, in the hope that it might make me feel better.  Even though I am no longer so immature that I need life to “feel better” for me, to find its value.

I suppose I am merely marking her ending with this conversation, so that one day I will be able to look back and remember, how much beauty I saw in her, how much poise, and how subtle and palpable was her strength of character.

Adayre R. Miller

4/14/13