I’ve been quiet the past few weeks, and there’s a reason.
I’m in the midst of a two week ‘cold’ that’s going around. Today’s the best I’ve felt for 14 days, to be true. With so many things I’ve been working on I guess it stands to reason that I’d eventually cave in physically. However, while I thought I’ve been taking care of myself well enough, turns out my wife got sick and well bouncey bouncey.
So, 12 days into it, I think I’m about 85%, and I’m ready to publicly confide what has happened to me about 9 days ago, so that I can move on.
My wife’s dog is named Lulu. Well, was named Lulu. She’d been sick off and on for the past 2 years. Heart problems, breathing problems, eating problems, you name it. Lulu had lost a lot of her chihuahua spirit, but she had not yet given up life.
Until Sunday October, 28th. In my arms. Probably the most gut wrenching thing I’ve ever experienced. (Of course, this being since I had not ever experienced death.)
Just knew something was different the moment we woke up. Breathing was very labored, and she really didn’t eat much the night before. Wife had to work (unusual for a Sunday), and I was sick. So, for the most part, Lulu, along with my dog Superchunk, hung out with me on the couch all day. She would have occasional diarrhea, so I’d have to spirit her downstairs so she could go there (instead of in the house).
Around 6 PM this happened again. So, once she was done, I sat with her on the steps, at one point, wiping a tear from her eyes. They teared up a lot more than normal lately. Walked her upstairs and tried to get her to eat. Typically, she’s extremely finnicky about eating. We’d have to feed her anything and everything so long as she decided she liked it. She turned down McDonalds cheeseburger (a usual favorite) last night, so we had this soft dog food we called “Crack Dog food” that she’d eat when she wouldn’t eat anything else.
Nothing.
Then, she walks up to the water bowl, and begins to drink. And drink. and DRINK. It was more than enough for me to take notice, but I don’t know what kind of a sign it was, if anything at all.
Typically, when she gets finnicky, she walks underneath the kitchen sink (an empty area under there). While she normally would sit almost defiantly, this time she stood with a glazed look in her eye, her tail stiffening and arched upward.
I was dizzy from the cold, and thought, “well, you’ll come back out when you’re ready.” I went back to the living room, and laid down on the couch.
The phone rang. It was Christina. We talked errands, spoke a little about Lulu’s troubling day, and she said she’d go to Arby’s to get me some comfort food.
Then came the sound. The most horrible and disorienting sound I think I have ever heard. It sounded like someone had stepped on her, yet, with not quiet the same amount of urgency. It was a cry–a final cry–for help.
I said, “Hold on babe… Oh no… Honey, I gotta call you back. I GOTTA CALL YOU BACK!” I threw the phone on the futon and ran into the kitchen, where I found Lulu.
Her little body was splayed out: Chest on the floor, left legs to her left, right legs to her right. My whole vision became myopic and tunneled. “No Lulu, NO Lulu!” I screamed as I began to weep. I picked her up as she jerked and gasped, and laid her down on her side. My words were very repetitive, as I continued screaming No along with her name. I ran out of the kitchen to call Christina back.
Picking up my discarded phone from the futon, I read the display:
“CALL IN PROGRESS…”
Oh no. She heard everything. The call never disconnected.
I said, “Are you still on the phone??!!” Yes, she replied. I quickly insisted, “Come home. Just come straight home.”
I ran back into the kitchen, all of this happening in an instant. Lulu had become more violent in her jerks and my cries became more vocal and helpless. At the time, I don’t know why, but I began screaming, “Lulu, I’m so sorry!! I’m so sorry, Lulu!!!” It was gutteral, and from my very core. I was not in control of my emotions, my thoughts, or my actions. I felt completely helpless.
Then, her tongue fell out of her mouth. She made this one last jerk and gasp (I can only assume it was one of her last), and it so terrified me, or for lack of a more descriptive word, FREAKED me out, that I literally jumped to my feet and stormed out of the room. I couldn’t bare to see it.
I grabbed a blanket, and walked back in. Her near lifeless body on my kitchen floor, I wept uncontrollably. At one point, while holding my hand on her stomach, I felt her heart still barely pumping, gently, meekly, lightly. This, in spite of no sign of breath. Without even thinking I took two of my fingers and began slapping the area around her heart in an effort to give CPR. But my mind caught this action quickly, and I soon decided it was pointless. I wrapped her, waddled her now rag-doll body in the blanket. With one last look at her face, she no longer looked like the dog my wife had for the past 10 years. She looked like a taxidermy animal.
I’d wager that I sat there for 20 minutes without any concept of what was going on past my most immediate surroundings. This sorrow felt so deep and so very released. At one point, my next door neighbor called. I had walked her dog the night before, and thought she’s probably calling me about that, and I just felt I was in no condition to speak. So I hit ignore.
Two minutes later, I get a text from her: “are you OK?”
She didn’t hear, but neighbors from across the way did hear me, and went to her place to ask and investigate. Apparently they even knocked on my door downstairs, but I didn’t hear. I simply was completely unaware.
I responded to her text that “lulu had just died, and Christina will be devastated.” She replied with much kindness and understanding.
Then, all of a sudden, I stopped crying. I looked at the clock. How much longer would it take for Christina to come home? Began this obsessive compulsive act of mathematically trying to figure out when she’d pull up based on when she called. It was a Sunday, so traffic was probably at a minimum. I pulled up her last phone call on my log as I tried to mathematically estimate the time of arrival.
I called Superchunk and had him come with me to the top of the stairs. There, away from the body, we waited.
A key entered the deadbolt on the door. Christina walked in, and her hazel eyes looked up the stairs to meet mine.
“Is she gone?”
Yes.
And then, in a moment I shall keep to myself, I’ll simply say that on a very emotional level, we dealt with it. Together. Arms wrapped around each other.
We went back upstairs and went over to Lulu’s swaddled body. We sat and talked, and recreated the events so we could wrap our heads around it. It was coming for a long time, yet I felt so very unprepared for seeing it in person.
I’d always imagined scenarios of how we’d do this. George Carlin of course did say “You’re buying a mini-tragedy; it’s not going to end well.” And we do move on, and we do learn and we do grow from every aspect of life.
I just can’t remember the last time I felt an event to be so very negative at its core. There is nothing romantic about death. I’m not saying I’m afraid of it. I’m just surprised at how every visceral and unhappy it is.
We began to see the light of relief, knowing she didn’t have to suffer anymore. The house feels different, with all the fussing energy we dedicated to that little dog’s problems now evaporated. Slowly but surely we’ll heal.
I’d like to say that at least she was at home. That, at least in her last day, I gave her special attention. I’d like to say too that I’m glad my wife didn’t see it. I’ve always felt myself to be her protector and even made it an important point in the vows I spoke on the day we married. Not having to see Lulu’s passing can only be described as a blessing in disguise.
But for the first week after, I couldn’t shake from my head the image of her face gasping, and the sound of her life escaping her little black body. I’ll probably never forget it and while I realize that life will continue to throw things I never previously understood at my feet, I hope I learned something from this experience. And I hope, Lulu, if you’re up in whatever kind of doggie heaven there might be, that you’ve already gotten in trouble for biting God’s hand.
Cause God, you should have known better. You gotta let Lulu warm up to you first. Then, and only then, will you be right as rain.
