Another beautiful poem, one anyone who has loved a dog will appreciate

I was listening to the audiobook version of Silas House's 'All These Ghosts', which is a new book of collected poems. It is narrated by the author. When he came to this poem, his voice nearly broke, and I cried. I think you can tell why and where. It's a beautiful volume of poems. I bought both the book and the audiobook. Hearing the poems in his own voice, in his accent, is worth it as well.

[Photo is of my own beloved dog, Cerys, now gone so many years, almost 20. But she lives on in my heart as if it were yesterday, my Cer-Bear 1991-2007]

For You Who Have Loved Old Dogs

Old Andy is a big dog, black as a
night sky in the most lonesome winter months.
He is fat even though he doesn't eat
much these days. His man is one of the best
folks I know. They were hiking deep in the
high mountains when good Andy's back legs stopped
their work. The old dog folded himself down
on the path, his eyes lighting on his mani's
to apologize. My friend carried him
nearly a mile, this great sprawl of blessed
animal, who must have lain in his arms
both thankful and ashamed. They collapsed
together at the end of the steep trail,
holding on to each other, exhausted.

I'm thankful for you who take care of old
dogs. I'm glad you have one another when
you need a friend the most, that you've had times
of stillness, watching the world, that you know
the grace of silence together. I thank
the infinite eternity and the
God of my understanding for people
like you, who carry them when they need you.

Three times now I've held an old dog
in my arms as they left me. Three times
I felt their heartbeats fade away on my palm,
witnessing a shooting star become
more darkness. The end. All lost and gone.

I've grieved for each of them just as much as
I have for people I've loved. I've carried
the sweet sorrow with me, a heft I wish
I did not have to bear but one that I
will always cherish now. The burden
of my empty arms is the greatest weight.

Silas House. All These Ghosts. Durham: Blair, 2025, p. 59.

Throwback Thursday

One last post for the night. I'm not sure if I've posted this before. I was going through some old pictures and found this one from Yule 2000. It's not of great quality, and I look horrendous, but it is the only one I have of me and my beloved dog together. She had to be put down several years ago, but lived to a ripe old age of 16, and was a loving and devoted companion. I miss her still so very much.

Came across these pictures tonight

of Cerys (the dog) and her constant companion Darius (the cat), as well as Spock. In September it will be seven years since Cerys died, the last of my furry companions. I've been petless since (except for fish--Darius preceded her, which was just as well, for while he adored her and would have mourned her terribly, she was somewhat long-suffering about a cat that wanted to constantly sit upon and cuddle up with her).  It was the first time without pets in 27 years.  I loved my animals so much. Spock, Cerys, Buns, Darius, even the somewhat evil Basil I had for awhiel. It's just so odd to not have dogs or cats in my house, and yet I am a good aunt to others. But it's not quite time for one of my own, yet. I'm not sure I'll ever get another dog, to be honest--I don't know if I could do it. I love cats, and I love dogs (although I'm allergic to both), but it seems you bond even more with a dog, or at least that was the case with Cerys, although I was very close to Spock, particularly, who was a cat, the first kitten I got as an adult. But when you bond with them and they are your family, it is so hard to let them go when it's time. But at some point I'll probably break down and get a cat. Or two. :) But not now, right?

Darius and Cerys

Spock

Last night

I wound up totally absorbed in putting something together and testing it out for about three hours. I let my phone, which had a low battery, totally go down to the point it turned off, then couldn't find it for about fifteen minutes when I finally did tear myself away, realising that it was after midnight and time to go to bed. I had several calls and texts, but it was too late to respond to either. I did send an email to the person who'd called, saying it was okay to call back if he wanted, which he did so later that night, and we talked for about an hour. The person who texted and I caught up with each other this evening and had a good 'text conversation'. The project meant I messed the house up a bit. In fact, I need to redo a bit of the living room entirely to really incorporate things nicely. This will have the added advantage of giving me more room at the computer At the moment, a small bookshelf is slightly in my way and I sit at an odd angle, which isn't quite comfortable and would be less so for anyone else who isn't used to it, especially a guy. Since most people who might come over and use my computer are, in fact guys, at least one of which is left-handed, which would be even more cramped (and that's my setup as well), it would be nice to revamp things. I probably should have done that tonight, as I was home. Instead I had a quiet evening of relaxation while I planned inside my head.

The nice thing is that I always think my setup in the living room involves a computer desk and entertainment center that between them have bedrails upon which books sit as a double-decker shelving, when in fact, the weight is borne by the computer desk and a matching bookshelf. The entertainment center is separate, with books above it. It has to come out, and can do so without disturbing the majority of the books, and then I can move the table currently dividing the living area from the dining area over where it has been, and then I can stack the four half-bookshelves together in that divider, giving the computer room. The end result would be losing the entertainment center, which is very battered and over 25 years old (and it was a Sauder pressboard product to begin with, It is actually a relic of my marriage.) But things would be streamlined.

This was all set into place because I finally bought a television that is flat-screened and it is just a bit longer than the entertainment center allotment. It's not huge by any means, it's 32 inches diagonally, but it can stream Netflix, Amazon Prime, and Pandora, among other things. The old TV, a cathode ray tube television my grandmother gave me used before she died in 1993, is clunky but still working, so I moved that to the bedroom, along with the Roku box, so I can stream those services in there (I don't have a second cable hookup, but I can watch or listen to plenty of things just with Roku). I'm going to see about hooking up an old DVD player there as well. I discovered tonight as I was texting with Brandon that it was very pleasant to have Pandora streaming while I had my feet up in bed. I eventually fell asleep, and then woke up about 12:30 am and came out to take care of things like turning the aquarium light to night time use and taking my insulin. The rearrangement is tempting to start, but I think I'll save it for later in the week. I wanted to go ahead and get something while I could. It wasn't terribly expensive (I got it through Amazon, on six-month financing). But that will be the last major purchase for awhile, I think. And for now, I'll keep my cable TV, which fortunately I was already paying for an HD cable box (not sure why), so nothing increased and all I had to do was plug in an HDMI cable to use it to its fullest extent.

I made my appointment for a colonoscopy for next Tuesday, October 1st. The reality of it is really hitting me. Before that it was all in the theoretical category. When I went by the pharmacy today I quizzed them on different preparations. So Monday night I'll probably not be blogging, or if so, it'll be from the tablet or phone, and Tuesday I'm off from work and will probably be out of it. This is all contingent on whether Brenda can take me that day. Hopefully that will be a yes. I originally scheduled for arrival by 7:30 am and then called back and chose a later appointment since although I live just across a major road, she's coming from out of county to take me. I kind of want to get it over with. I have a lot of appointments coming up. There's finalising and signing my will and related documents (which to be honest it would have been nice to have that done before the colonoscopy, but alas, it's a couple of days later). There's a mammogramme, a trip to my regular doctor, a trip back to the gynaecologist, and on Halloween I go back to the endocrinologist. I'm also supposed to be starting physical therapy for my back, but that's only going to happen if I can do it after work. I am obviously breaking down and getting older. On the other hand, that should get most appointments for the year out of the way. I do still need to do a cleaning at the dentist; I'll wait until December on that one so that if they find anything, I'll have a full flexible spending card come January for anything pricey.

Our benefits enrolment is coming up soon, in mid-October. I'm interested in seeing how the health insurance changes. There have been several rumours flying around, and we got a required notice on health exchanges today as a result of the Affordable Care Act (Obamacare), which I gather we will not be eligible for because we will still have adequate insurance. But I am interested in any changes. This major benefit is one of the reasons I stuck with my present job through thick and thin and even when it was only 20 hours a week, because I got full health insurance even at that amount and it was very good insurance. It's eroded a bit over the years (higher co-pays for stuff like outpatient surgeries that we didn't used to have, etc., but it's been pretty good and I don't need referrals to see anyone who takes my insurance, so I've been really happy with it.

Last year I had gone to the benefits fair and then the very next day I was hit by a car. It's amazing to me that it's nearly been a year. The anniversary is in nineteen days. I am so lucky it wasn't worse. Another anniversary that I'm marking, yes, even now, is the death of my last pet, my beloved dog, on the 24th of September. She gave me sixteen great years of companionship. It's hard to believe it's been six years since she passed. I only have goldfish and a betta (not in the same tank) these days. All in all, that's good. I don't really have a great deal of time to devote to a pet and I'm allergic to both cats and dogs. But still...I never thought I'd go this long without one. Also, it's hard to believe, but tomorrow would have been my grandfather's 90th birthday. (Sorry YKWIA, I know you hate it when people dwell on that.) It's hard to believe it's been nearly 14 years since he died. I wish he hadn't smoked like he had; he really might have lived to see 90. Most of the people in my family live to be close to that; the only ones who didn't either died of smoking-related diseases, accidents, or in one case, a severe case of diabetes before we had better treatments.

Speaking of which, I really need to see about going to visit my grandmother soon. With all that's going on this month it will be a stretch to do, but I should.

Okay, I've babbled on longer than usual, and I've been up for an hour in the middle of the night. Good night.

I came across this today

It is the only picture I have of myself with my beloved dog, Cerys. It seems so inconceivable that it's been almost five years since she passed. I still miss her. This was taken in 2001, at Yule (hence the ribbon), when she was about 10 years old. She'd started greying around the muzzle. She was a wonderful companion. It took me a full two years to get where I would sleep in the middle of the bed rather than on the side. Wherever you may be, my Cer-Bear, I love you.

(And yes, it isn't a great picture of me; I look huge. But it's a great reminder.)

I also found this picture

Spock was already 12 by this time. His Star Trek-shaped grey spot on his forehead, from which he got his name (hey, pointed ears?) had faded by then. His right eye was blue, hence the reflection from the flash. He was the sweetest cat I've ever met, and also the dumbest. Sweet and dumb seem to go hand in hand. He was the one animal I did not have to have put down; he died in my arms at the age of 17. I think he was a little cross at wearing a bow, or at least as cross as he ever got.

There was one more cat, but he never came out when I had company, for the most part. It wasn't until maybe the last four years or so he'd come out to be with me; he was a very shy, retiring cat. That was Darius. He came to me in the backyard as a kitten while I was giving my monthly libation, meowing to be let in. She (Hekate) is known for a connexion with dogs, but hey, I decided to take it as a sign and took the little fellow in. Oddly enough, he bonded like glue with Cerys, and to her dismay took to sitting on her often.

In my adult life, I've only had one other pet, Basil, a beagle-basset cross that I found wandering in the Chevy Chase area. I had to eventually find a home for him, because he was absolutely incapable of being housebroken. Cerys was much happier, too. It broke my rule that pets are for life, but there you go. I gave him to a family that could be with him longer hours of the day and walk him more frequently, and did disclose his issues. I hope it worked out. I have to admit, there was a lot of relief on my end. I hope they did not curse my name too much afterwards.

For the first time since I was about 13, I am petless, unless you count a few goldfish. Sometimes I think of getting a kitten, but I'm not ready yet. And I don't know if any dog could be such a good match for me as Cerys was. Plus, Cerys came to me at 8 months, already housebroken and past (most) of the destructive stage. I'm not sure I have the energy for a puppy. :) But maybe a kitten. Someday.

Look what I found

I've been going through my bedroom drawers and came across this picture from the winter holidays of 2001. Cerys was 10, already greying around the muzzle, but I'd have six more wonderful years with her. Buns, the cat behind her, was starting to have some problems with his skin, due to a type of cancer that neither the vet or I recognised at the time. She thought it was just allergies.

But, oh, my Care Bear. That face just lit me up all over when I saw the picture. This month marks four years since her death, and I feel her absence still, although I've learned to sleep in the middle of the bed finally and remember to pick up dropped popcorn kernels. I can't believe it's been four years. I can't believe I was blessed with her for 16. She was such a wonderful dog.

Anyway, it really brightened my day to see this. :)

I miss my puppy

On my way back from putting my rent into the slot at the leasing office (on time, and I have been for months--I may be killing my feet but at least I can pay my bills), a couple was out walking their dog, a husky-chow mix that was tiny compared to the parent breeds. She was very friendly, and licked my hand. Most dogs really like me, and recognise me as a dog person. But after they left, I was overcome with a sadness.

It's been over two years since Cerys died, but she had such a profound effect on my life that I still think of her often, and the memories are bittersweet, because she was such a good dog, and now she's gone, although after a good, long life. She was a pound puppy, my very first dog of my own, my responsibility. I was out driving one day and had a very strong urge to go to the local humane society--even though it was in the opposite direction--and fell in love with the black Lab mix that bowed just like my friend's dog (my training dog, if you will, how I learnt to love and take care of dogs). Someone was ahead of me for the adoption, but bowed out. My landlord had to approve. I was desperate for that dog, and it was apparently meant to be. I firmly believe that my Patroness, Hekate, had a hand in that, as she is associated with dogs, especially black ones. That began a wonderful relationship that lasted sixteen years.

Cerys did more than anything to get me out of the funk I was in once my brain returned and I fled my marriage. She loved me unconditionally--something rare in my life.

I remember after I took her home her coming up to the bed and looking forlorn and begging, but afraid to come up (I think she'd been abused before she was abandoned; she was terribly timid, especially at the start). I invited her up and from that moment on it was her bed. Even now, I've finally begun to stretch out on the bed and take her spot, but it took over a year and a change in mattress to do so. That's actually how I knew she was going downhill--she'd started to sleep on the floor, and had difficulty getting up onto a fairly low bed. The floor, even carpeted, had never been good enough for her before.

I have a poor memory for all sorts of things, but vivid ones of Cerys, as a puppy, in middle age, and as an old dog. I treasure every moment I had with her. It's so strange now to have only fish as pets (I'd had three cats for years as well, the last of which was put down a year before Cerys). I am an aunt to two wonderful cats and three dogs that adore me. I am part of their pack. It's enough, mostly. But every now and then I miss my dog, who was really the best dog for me there could have been, and at a time in my life when I desperately needed something in my life like her.

I don't know what happens when animals die, if there's some spirit they have that lives on to be reborn. But if so, I hope Cerys is young and happy and full of life, with someone who loves her as much as I did.

A dog's life

Being an animal lover, these stories in the media got to me:

Martha Stewart's dog dies in kennel explosion: 17 dogs killed, truck driver injured after propane fire in Pennsylvania

Something managed to ignite a propane tank during a delivery. Although badly burnt, the truck driver managed to toss one of the dogs over a fence to safety. He's in critical condition.

Dogs cheat death after blast at animal hospital: Vet frees pets from blazing kennel by smashing door with cinder block

This one happened in Massachusetts, on Cape Cod. It is being investigated to see if it were a natural gas explosion.

My thoughts go out to the families of the pets who died, and thankfully at least some were saved. It's so weird that these two blasts would happen so close together.

Then there was the 'My Turn' from this week's Newsweek, The Dog That Made Us A Family. The author's adoptive daughter was devastated by the loss of their dog, who ran away the first day they had it. The child, who had been adopted as a baby by another woman who then died and then was shuffled around several homes before coming to them, had acted as if she were fine and didn't seem to grieve for her mother until the loss of the dog brought all those feelings to the forefront. Fortunately that one has a happy ending.

I really miss my dog, Cerys. She had a long and good life, but it is just a shame they live so few years compared to the human lifespan. At least I get to be an 'aunt'.

I miss Cerys terribly sometimes

like just now, when a woman was walking a black and grey dog in our parking area. Cerys was black, but greyed quite a bit as she got older, and I guess even though it wasn't a Labrador that triggered the memory and the grief.

I went out early to get a money order for my rent, which is thankfully paid. I don't have much left over, but more than I thought I would, especially once my grandmother's Christmas money clears tomorrow. Yay for that. So groceries are an option, and so is that Lovecraft book if it's available.

Okay, I'm off to hit the shower and get ready for work.

Oh, it's nice

to take my shoes off and get into some comfy clothes. I'm in for the night until 7 am, when I go pick someone from work. I managed to get week #7's homework (videos and podcasts) finished for class, but still have the last week's topic of mashups and miscellaneous Web 2.0 concepts to go.

I just helped someone make a wonderful honey-soy sauce and tofu. I'm eager to try it for myself. It has honey, soy sauce, sesame oil, toasted sesame seeds, cayenne pepper, and ginger in it, and boy does it have a zing.

The nice Indian couple across the hall have moved out. They were good neighbours and always filled the hallway with good smells of cooking. They even got Cerys a bag of dog food at one point because it is the custom in their culture to feed animals, which are seen to be close to God.

Speaking of animals, I visted D last Friday and played with her new kitten, Claire, a 6-week-old tortoiseshell. I found out today that Claire later had to be euthanised after suffering from coccidiosis. That's a shame. They're going to wait awhile before getting another kitten. Their 3-year-old son doesn't really understand where the kitten has gone, though, and their dog seems a little depressed. But it really hit D the hardest, I think.

The link above goes to the Encyclopaedia Britannica, which is offering free access for a year to bloggers who want to link to their content. I guess they want to compete with Wikipedia. It's a great deal--you just sign up and they verify that you blog regularly, etc. You can sign up yourself at: Encyclopaedia Britannica WebShare.

Okay, that's all for now.

I downloaded some pictures off my camera

and came across this one of Cerys and Darius, inseparable except by death.

I miss my babies, including Spock and Buns.

I miss Cerys

It's just not the same coming home to an empty house. This weekend I washed the bedclothes for the first time since she died, so they no longer have her scent on them. I have to admit I was overcome with emotion and cried a little. I'm still very much in mourning, I suppose. It's amazing how much grief you can have when a pet dies. Cerys was a wonderful companion for sixteen years. She shared many ups and downs with me and got me through a difficult time in my life. I wish we could do something to keep those we love--people and animals--young and vibrant for a long time, but of course life doesn't work that way, and I suppose that's good, as it forces you to greater appreciate the time you have left.

A mixed day

On the good side:

1. Heroes!--enough said.
   
2. The nice folks at the Kentucky Revenue Department set up a payment plan with me rather than coming and taking what little stuff I own (okay, I have lots of stuff, but nothing valuable, really--my car is in my mom's name and my computer is a build-your-own-without-a-brand style, and of course there are lots of books, not great for resale). But they could have garnished my wages or just seized money from my bank account and had me out on the street when I couldn't pay my rent. So I'm happy that it worked out. I received the certified letter of notice the day I was off after Cerys' death and it became clear that I wasn't going to make the deadline since I hadn't been working due to my foot. Apparently the Commonwealth prefers less extreme tactics first. Yay for calling to straighten things up. Yay, responsibility!
   
3. I found out a co-worker is alive and well. She disappeared Thursday and her family and friends didn't know where she was, and it wasn't like her to not call in to work. I don't know the details (and don't really need to, although of course I'm curious.) But she disappeared on her mother's birthday and her mom had died a few months ago--I was a little worried that she was more depressed than we'd realised and had done something to harm herself. I fretted about her all weekend. Funny how people touch you in little ways. My favourite moment with her was the child-like wonder she had at making a fluff ball move forward by walking near it. (Don't get me wrong, she takes things seriously, and she's not totally out in left field...but she's quirky and comes off as pretty innocent, and I was afraid someone might have harmed her.)
   
4. I talked to D. Her surgery went fine and she's back at work. She's got some really serious implications to deal with, though, and I hope she continues to do okay.
   

On the bad side, they're building the cubicles in the library today and so far I don't like the fact that they're:

1. A particularly yucky shade of beige-taupe (hey, not my fault, I didn't get a vote). Maybe they'll grow on me. Nah.
   
2. Sticking out further than I, my boss, and my boss' boss thought they would, so now I'm looking at moving one or two journal shelving units (each about 3 x 12 feet and full of loose journals) over to allow for clearance. Right now there's about 24". There needs to be at least 36".
   
3. Wrapped around my area to a degree that I'm going to have to move the copier and computer a few inches to get inside my cubicle.
   
4. Tall (except for mine), leading you to see a wall with a door directly opposite when you come in. My desk is behind said journals shelves and although there is a short divider, I don't think I'll be that visible, certainly not as much as I was in the past.
   
5. Probably going to be put up into tomorrow, since by the time I left at 2:30 they'd gotten the walls (yes, there's a wall, even with a door) and overhead bins in.
   
   

Also, I can't see the clock (it's just as well my 10th anniversary gift for service is a clock) and I'm not sure I'll be able to see the door. Argh. Maybe it will get better. I miss my nice oak desks, but this might work. Still, I'm being somewhat resistant to change, but then although I wasn't the last to know this was going on, I was down pretty far, and I still resent that. Oh, well, maybe I'll be able to appreciate 'Dilbert' even more. But today wasn't fun, especially as I was crowded at one of the computer carrels with stuff around me, including my desk's computer monitor, which wound up in a chair inexplicably.

Oh, well. I don't try to understand it anymore. I just stand up when I think I need to and try to let the rest pass like water under the bridge...yeah, and I have a bridge in Brooklyn I'd love to sell you, too. :)

PS October 23rd is Brenda's 50th Birthday! Woo-whee! (It's scary that I'm just 10 years away from that number.) I need to find something special to bring for her at next game.

I should add

That just because I'm having suicidal thoughts doesn't mean that I think I'm in any danger of carrying them out. It's not the kind of ruminations that you get with standard depression. It has to do with my moods, which swing rapidly when I'm under stress. But even then, my mind talks me down. I tend to get these emotional storms that last about 20 minutes or so, and if I can ride them out, I'll be okay. If I felt I couldn't do that, then I'd check in somewhere in a heartbeat--especially now that I don't have to worry about who would take care of Cerys. But at this point I'd be running away from things and it would only make it worse. So I'll stick things out and hopefully they'll improve.

Self-anihilation is something I do with relative ease

When I was married, I moulded my entire personality to what I thought was expected of me. I did that with my parents, with my schools, and finally in my marriage. It was only after that was over that I slowly recovered the buried personality that was me.

And yet, I'm still an incredibly passive person who doesn't feel that she deserves anything good in life. I'm not sure I'll ever escape that mindset, although I've made it my life's work to do so.

What I do know is that for months now--a year or two, even--I've been doing great emotionally. Now with the stresses of bills and Cerys' death and the continued strain my psychology places on my everyday interactions, I feel like my life is unravelling rather quickly. I realise it will get better. But in the meantime I'm having thoughts of just giving up and obliterating everything about me. I'm crying uncontrollably often. In other words, I'm slipping back into depression, and it scares me. I don't want to go down that road again. If it continues much longer I'll see about having my meds adjusted. The last couple of days have been particularly bad, and I didn't have my Lamictal. I have that now and can get back on track. But it scares me how thin a barrier there is between doing fine emotionally and suicidal thoughts can be. And the fact that the days are shortening isn't helping particularly.

The best course of action is, of course, action--action to meet my problems head-on to dispel the anxiety I'm having. That's so hard for me, though. But it's something I'm going to have to do, or I'll spiral right down. At least I did start back at the store tonight--although I was slow, we got everything done for truck night, so that was an accomplishment, mostly due to my direction. So maybe I'm not a total screwup. I'm just having a month where I feel like everything I do is for naught. I can't seem to get things right the first time, except at work, where I'm still doing fine. But I always did better in that arena than my personal life would indicate. I don't want a return to having depression drain the colour not only out of life, but endanger my livelihood as well, as it did before.

Oh, well. Here's to feeling better tomorrow. One good thing about being bipolar/borderline--emotions are like Kentucky weather, just wait a little while and it'll be completely different.

Today I received a letter from Dr Vice, the veterinarian

It was very comforting. It reiterated that Cerys appeared to have had a stroke and was unresponsive and unable to eat and that therefore I did the right thing in putting her down. I really like Dr Vice, and that little follow-up detail helps, too. If I ever have another pet (which I'm sure I will, I just don't plan to have one anytime soon), I'll definitely take it to Gainesway Small Animal Clinic, even though it isn't that close to me--it's worth it for the people.

Today's radioplay: 'The Living Doll'

I'm making my way

through the Kübler-Ross model for grief. This morning's refusal to get out of bed and feeling emptiness were married with this idea that she wasn't really gone. I refused to look at the things emphaised the loss--her water dish, her food, her leash. Tonight I'm feeling anger. Terrible rage, even though I don't really have a good focus for that rage. The Goddess? She gave me 16 wonderful years with Cerys. Fate? For a dog, 16 is a ripe old age, better than can be expected for many breeds. Myself? The only real regret I have is that I would have liked her ashes back, but couldn't afford the $120 to that like I did with Spock (as a cat, his was much cheaper). But otherwise despite all the tribulations in my life I gave her a good home. So no, I shouldn't be angry with myself, either. I haven't gone into bargaining--at this point there's nothing to bargain for. I have felt terribly depressed all day-sleeping most of it, although a friend enticed me out long enough to watch a series we liked from fifteen years ago, which I enjoyed immensely.

So that leaves acceptance. I'm not there yet, but it will come, I know. Tomorrow it's back to work and I'll have other things to occupy my mind. But it will be awhile before everything feels 'good' again.

I still haven't taken care of her things. That is for tomorrow, I think. I just can't bear to do it today. Every now and then I get a whiff of her scent, too, and of course for now the bedsheets have it. It's a comforting scent, one that will eventually fade and become one more loss.

But I'm hanging in there, at least. Thanks for reading this. Good night.

I'm home today

taking some time in light of Cerys' death. I haven't had any real crying fits since we put her to sleep, just tearing up a lot and a feeling of emptiness. I'm glad I took some time. I just woke up a little while ago, after sleeping about 12 hours. I was so tired last night--I just wanted to crawl into a ball and sleep. I guess it was all the emotions her death brought.

Today I need to wash her water bowl and leash (and put the latter and her collar away, I'm keeping them as mementos), pick up the food she wouldn't eat (she had gotten to the point where she'd just overturn a bowl of food, so I fed her on the floor), and give the bathroom a final cleaning where she had so much trouble the other night. My mop head fell apart the other night and I had to finish with paper towels. Now I have a new mophead. I feel like I'm eradicating her presence from the house, but it needs to be done.

I know it will get better with time, but for now I feel a little lost. It's pretty outside and I feel like taking a walk, but my foot prevents that. I might sit outside for awhile. I don't know. I feel like I have all this energy and should be doing something, but on the other hand I just want to sit in bed and pull the covers over my head.

I would like to put in a word for Gainesway Small Animal Clinic and Dr Clark Vice. They were wonderful to me, first with Darius' death, then with Cerys' appointments and eventual death. They kept her very comfortable as opposed to my last vet, who took advantage of my grief to run up a huge bill with one cat and charged me for another's euthanasia even though I had been a client for years. I would highly recommend them. And if I ever have another pet, I'll go back to them.

The house is kind of lonely tonight and I'm sad, but

relieved as well. Cerys was put to sleep a little after 5 this afternoon. She had to be carried to the car and into the vet's because she couldn't stand on her own. She would never let me carry her before she went downhill. The friend who went with me was shocked by how fragile she had become, I think, and of course she didn't really seem conscious of either of us, although I think on some level she recognised she was loved and was being petted.

They gave us some time to comfort and love on her and then Dr Vice came in and we discussed how she'd been the last couple of days. He confirmed our suspicion that she may have had a stroke. He said I was absolutely doing the right thing; in dogs of her age, even if they can get some improvement they usually see the same thing happen a week or month later. He gave her the injection. She went very quickly, making little 'grr'ing noises. Cerys always had such cute noises. Dr Vice left us alone for a little while. It was disconcerting that after she was gone, as the muscles relax, she seemed to gasp several times, but I knew it was just a reflex the body goes through after death. Her bladder relaxed as well. We left her there. I think that was the hardest thing; but she was only a shell--the dog I loved was gone.

I can only hope that somewhere her spirit, loosed from her elderly body, is frolicking with her 'big sister' and at peace.

We went out to eat and talked, and I came home for a little while and that wasn't so bad. Then I went to watch the Heroes premiere--I needed some distraction. But now I'm home again, sitting in an empty house, and it seems so strange to not have her here. I think she's her in spirit, though, because I don't truly feel alone.

I just want to say you were my first dog of my own, my 'beloved one'. You were a reliable companion who was there for me when most people weren't. For all the years of joy you gave me, my Care Bear, I will always love you. Rest in peace.

Here are two pictures I've used of Cerys on this blog before. I'll see if I can find a better one, with her face showing better, of when she was young and scan it in.

First, with Darius:


Then in snow:


PS Today's radioplay was 'Double Zero'.