Short update:

Got our sutures out last night, and aside from the "if he doesn't stop licking that, he'll get the t-shirt" admonishment, we got an all-clear at the vet. Sam is free to "do what he wants, go where he wants, eat what he wants...just have a good time."

New blog post today, wherein I talk myself down off a ledge. :p

Lots of stuff going on in my life aside from Sam-dog--promotion/new job (that is not well defined and is the wild wild west, more or less, and I have no idea what I'm doing), my 90-year-old grandmother is doing very poorly, DH travelling a lot, etc. So, it's one of those days when some random stuff just sets you off...

I love all of my animals, but some days, trying to deal with all six of them, when they all have different needs (now two of them special needs and meds), wants, demands, and sometimes supreme annoyances... well, it makes me want to sit on the floor and weep. And, apparently, freak out about random stuff I know better than to freak out about.

@dharma:

If you were Ms Pawistivity all the time, I think something may have come unhinged in your head That much upbeatness just ain't right.

We took tonight off of PT and off of our walks today (it’s freaking snowing again, anyway. Screw you, Minnesota winter. :eyeroll:). And after a minor victory over food (a can of FancyFeast, half can of tuna, 8 Teddy Grahams (regular honey flavored), and about three bites of his Avoderm canned food (which he hates, apparently)) and a drink or two (He elected to go with a nice pinot grigio, instead of an IPA (or so he thinks…don’t tell him it’s Corbet Canyon out of a box), we are comfortably sitting under a heating pad. He’s like a regular Joe Mauer. A day or two of activity, and then we need to rest for a week with “bilateral leg weakness” (<—this is-only funny if you are a MN Twins baseball fan. Hell, it's only even INTELLIGIBLE if you're a twins fan. It's not funny at all, really, considering what we paid....)

SEGUE:

And I think that end-of-life stories CAN be victories. Every single one of us, from the great leaders of the first world to the crabbiest quadrapeds in pet history...we're all going to die. It's the only guarantee for any of us, and the one thing we all have in common.

I don't think it matters if it's hospice for people or for pets...what we want for our loved ones, and for ourselves, is an ending that is filled with happiness--as much as we can muster, and with "icing on the cake," so to speak. No sense grieving for things that haven't happened. Youth is already wasted on the young, yeah? Let's not waste life on the living That, to me, is a victory.

jerry said

mmrocker13 said
And I think that end-of-life stories CAN be victories. Every single one of us, from the great leaders of the first world to the crabbiest quadrapeds in pet history...we're all going to die. It's the only guarantee for any of us, and the one thing we all have in common.

VERY well said! Here is one post of mine that's kinda along those lines: Buying Time on an Emotional Budget

Very good post, Jerry...and very well said.

I think one of the things we all struggle with (for people and for pets; for others and for ourselves), is the idea that somehow being accepting of death is tantamount to wanting it, giving it access, or asking for it. But accepting the idea of death as a part of life doesn't mean we are giving up. It doesn't mean that saying "he is dying," means I WANT it to happen, or will somehow make it happen when it normally would not have.

We don't want to die. We don't want our loved ones to die. Of course not--but ignoring the fact that it will happen to us all, locking the notion away...that won't change the inevitability of it. All it will do is make the lives we are living a bit less genuine, less present.

Animals aren't people, they have a different way of viewing the world, and a different type of intelligence. But I do believe they have a sense of mortality, and that they know what death is, and understand it means a leaving of sorts. It's part and parcel of a survival instinct, for one; and it explains the grieving reaction people observe in pets when another pet dies, as well. But the blessed thing about our animals, about "being more dog," is that while they acknowledge on some level the possibility of dying exists, and they simply don't worry about what will be...they only worry about what is right now.

What I want for Sam is for his "what is" to be as normal and as happy and as wonderfilled as possible. It doesn't have to be big or impressive or heroic. We don't need to go to Disneyland to "romance" The Lady (or The Tramp, for that matter), or take an African safari to chase wildebeasts instead of garden variety squirrels. It can be as simple as an endless supply of cardboard paper towel tubes to gnaw on and a parade of cheap toys to de-stuff and then thrust their slimy carcasses at us to play tug with. It can be fighting with his canine sister, and sharing his bed with a couple, three, four of the feline siblings. And yeah, okay, it can be hamburger for dinner instead of kibble if that's what he wants.

I don't want Sampson the Wonderdog, Sammy Psoriasis, Sammer, Sam-Dog, Big Dog-Pig Dog, Piggers, WoodgeBoodge, Budders, DamnitSammyKnockThatShitOff, Sam-Bernadino...Sammy, to die. I don't want him dying. I want him to live.

But while I can't change his dying...I CAN help him live. I can put that icing on the cake for him, and then get my own fat, pinky fingers out of it. I can let him dive in, and eat his cake with abandon, and not smear the frosting with my worries of what will be some day...and instead just enjoy what is right now.