Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Next time, don’t try to make me feel better….

My sweet little Katy dog.
Our rat terrier, Katy, is unfortunately near the end of her life.  It’s been a good one, I think.  She’s made it 14 years.  Nowadays she seems to have some sort of doggie dementia – it’s as if she doesn’t know who or where she is.  I guess this could be because she’s nearly if not totally blind.  Her bad leg bothers her and when she’s not sleeping she trembles as if she’s in pain.  Even on her bad days she irritates mightily by her incessant barking.  Her bark is gone.  I’m tremendously sad.  The thought of what’s to come truly makes me sick to my stomach.  I feel the bile rising just writing this.
Husband and I have been discussing just when she has no quality of life and how we’ll end her suffering.  By discussing I mean that I cry and try to change the subject.  It usually ends with that “we” meaning David will do whatever has to be done. 
This morning he tried to make me feel better.  He began by saying, “Anne everything dies!”  To which I sardonically replied, “Thanks Dave, that helps.”Then related the following story from his childhood.
                “Did I ever tell you about my dog, Sandy?” he asked. 
No,” I answer.  And I think this is a made up story because I haven’t heard of a “Sandy” in 20 years.
“Yep, I had a dog named Sandy.  She was a stray and she was my best friend.  She eventually became my dog. We ran around.  We played outside every day.  I loved Sandy.  Then one day, Sandy was just gone.  I never knew what happened to her.  I kinda thought she ran away.  Years later, I asked Dad what happened to her.  Dad said, “David, I took that dog to the woods and shot it!”
I give David a puzzled look.
“Anne, my dad took my dog out to the woods and shot him between the eyes with a .22!”
“What?  Why?” I ask. 
                “Dad said the dog was sick so he SHOT HIM!” (he raised his voice here)
“What the hell, David?!?!?!  That’s supposed to make me feel BETTER?  That doesn’t help at all!  I think that’s even worse than when you told me about when you and your dad decided to castrate the cat yourselves!  And you were surprised when it ran away.  I think this speaks to the irresponsible pet ownership of your dad rather than helping me.”

Next time, I hope he doesn’t bother to give me some sage wisdom or heartfelt insight from his odd childhood!

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