Saturday, October 4, 2008

The Rainbow Bridge



And at the end of the day, it was not so much some profound revelation from the somber depths of the Dark Night of the Soul, as a quiet insight gleaned in the wee hours of the morning while listening to her snore peacefully at the end of my bed as she had so many nights in the 13 years we have been together.... Such an amazing animal, who would have tried to do anything I asked her to, even though I could tell she was in almost constant physical discomfort, and often in great pain.



And yet despite the pain, she could also still experience great joy...along with the indignity of needing to wear a diaper, and the frustration of WANTING to do the right thing and not being physically able to deliver. In the end, she had ugly open pressure sores on both her rear elbows from trying to scoot herself around without any real use of her hind legs (and which despite my best treatment were not really going away), and her backside wasn't holding up all that well either. I had to ask myself which which more selfish of me? -- the desire to have as much time with her as I can, even though I know it prolongs her own ordeal? Or my own desire NOT to have to witness her sad and painful decline, but to let her go peacefully sooner rather than later?



And then there's always the most troubling question of all: what if I wait too long? I really wanted Parker's last day to be a "Good" one, and not just the final indignity in a long ordeal of decline and suffering.




And I honestly feel like I met that goal. Parker spent most of yesterday just hanging around the house, eating up the last of the dog treats and enjoying both the full attention of everyone who dropped by to visit, and also the luxury of being able to escape the Pampers for a time, and rest on her bed the way that God intended her to. This morning we slept late, and I even let her back up on to my bed for awhile...which is something she had always enjoyed, but hasn't really been an option for several months now. Our appointment was for 10:30 AM -- we met up with Parker's two long-term dogsitters (who had cared for her during my long hospitalization and rehab stay), and all went into the room togther. I know Parker was a little confused and upset by all the emotion she was witnessing in us, but we all took turns exchanging final pets and kisses, and then it was time. I know it sounds like a cliche, but when Parker gave up the ghost it was literally as if she had simply fallen asleep in my arms.



Now that it's over, at least give me some comfort to think that once Parker has crossed over that "Rainbow Bridge," she will in some way be united with Calvin and Luther and Foster and Daisy (and Chester and Emma and Adolf...) and all of the other remarkable animals who have given so much love to so many of us over the years. 10-15,000 years -- maybe more. Humanity's first truly domesticated animal, who made so much of the rest of human society possible, from hunting and herding and "domestic security," to all of the various tasks they perform today.

But these are topics for another occasion. Today, it's all about my grief -- a grief I can barely express out loud, or in words without the filter of this keyboard. Dear God -- I loved that dog, and I love her no less now that she's "gone" than I did when she was a puppy. She enriched my life in so many ways, and I feel so fortunate to have had the privilege to have been her companion.



In days to come I will no doubt find ample opportunity to write more about this remarkable animal who gave me so much, and who helped me to learn so many important lessons about trust, loyalty, fidelity, caregiving, joy, playfulness, and unconditional love. So many stories to tell, so many pictures to share, so many memories to hold in my heart and let inspire me to greater and greater levels of dogged devotion and committment.... Thank you Parker, for the great gift of your companionship. "We shall remember while the light lives, And in darkness we shall not forget."



THE ADORABLE PARKER JENSEN-WEDDELL
(JAN 11, 1995 - OCT 4, 2008)

8 comments:

Anonymous said...

She rests in peace, one with the One, and it's DAMN lonesome for YOU. Chin up -- I get the feeling you ARE the person Parker believed you to be. God bless you both. Ann B

PeaceBang said...

She was one little squiggling bundle of love. We'll all miss her sassy little self a lot.

Lilylou said...

Oh, Tim, I'm sorry. I'm glad you had a good last day with her.

Christine Robinson said...

I'm so sorry, Tim. Love can be so painful...

Berrysmom said...

I'm sorry to hear of the end of Parker's life, Tim. It's a Forrest Church-ish dilemma, isn't it? Getting a pet knowing that we will outlive it, opening our hearts to it knowing that one day our hearts will break with grief when they are gone.

Loving thoughts from a colleague who is owned by not one but two fabulous dogs.

Lisa said...

Tim, I'm sorry.

Lisa

Anonymous said...

Oh Timmy, I know how hard this is for you. Take comfort in the knowledge that you made the right choice and she is at peace now, perhaps chasing squirrels with Spunky.

Thinking of you with love, as always,
Lynne

Anonymous said...

So many happy memories of Parker and her loving, sweet, frisky self...walking her in the snow...having her watch Sasha out of the corner of her eye, then they lay there together, the Peaceable Kingdom...all God's critters got a place in the choir...too much to write about, Tim, but one funny thing...I'll never forget when she BURIED a Milkbone from the store in
Carlisle Center...she BURIED it in the snow and we walked home, up the hill through the woods by the Library, and heard the church bells pealing...her little doggy dog tags clinking together jauntily as she snuffled the snowy scents and chased a squirrel or two...she was a dog for all seasons. love, liza