The Difficulty of It
I don't know. Today, I know nothing. I think I have so much on my mind right now that its almost impossible to wrap my brain around one thing because its busy leaping from topic to topic.
I have nothing to add to the nation's grief over what happened in Sandy Hook. I could write and write and write about it, but really, I feel its useless and pointless. I was home Friday with a fever and sick kids. I saw the news and I cried. I cried and cried and cried. I cried more that weekend than I think I have in a very, very long time. Like every other mom out there, I hugged my kids. I thanked the random universe that this didn't happen in my town. I thanked whatever cosmic energy or random shift of the space-time continuum for keeping us safe. And then I hoped against all hopes that there would be an answer. That part hasn't happened yet and my hope has faded. Random act of violence. Fingers are pointing all over and some land on this young man's mother, on guns, on mental health issues and lack of housing or help. Time will tell, I draw no conclusions and my fingers are tightly wrapped in a ball of anxiety.
To be perfectly honest with you, my thoughts today are on my dog. Clara. My beautiful girl who has led a life I know little about. That's what happens when you rescue a dog with a few years on her. She is ten now. She came to me as a foster dog in January 2009. One year ago I took this photo:
Needless to say, she never left. She arrived bearing scars on her from neglect. She is deaf, but I often forget about that. I talk to her as though her ears worked as well as mine. I think she can read lips, because when I mention the word "treat" she perks up. She was silly to a fault and absolutely and resolutely by my side since our first day together.
I'm struggling with her being in pain. Her arthritis is pretty bad even though she is on medications for it. And now, well, she is sort of losing it.
She's been acting strange. She seems to get lost in one room or another. She hides in closets and under desks. She will get stuck in a room staring at a wall. She paces and whines and cries. Unless she is in physical contact with me. If we are laying together or if she has popped herself between my legs while I wash dishes or cook dinner, she seems fine. As soon as I have to walk away from her or leave the room, she is up and limping along beside me. Whining. Shaking Terrified I am going to leave her. It is absolutely the most gut wrenching thing.
And so here I have this wonderful dog getting along in her years. She eats fine. She drinks her water like a horse after a race. She goes outside to potty. She seems happy when she sees me come home. She isn't herself though. She is an odd replica of who she used to be. She will occasionally attempt a jog, but after two steps she is back to a terrible limp. She doesn't really jog or walk, its more of an awkward shuffling of four legs that magically propels her forward. Her whole body shimmies side to side, she concentrates on her target and wills herself forward. She will plop herself down heartily and stay down only as long as I am seated and still. Otherwise, she shadows my every move. She will lean backward and press the top of her head against my legs. She will reach out with a front paw to touch Seth or JP or Danielle or Autumn. She cannot sit near you, she must sit ON you.
I came home from work Monday and I couldn't find her anywhere. I was darting from room to room looking for her. Calling out her name even though she can't hear me. I found her finally in the closet in the boys' room. The sliding door was open, but there she was in the dark, curled up and acting like she had never seen the room before. When I opened up the door even wider, she startled us both by bolting out of the closet and running headfirst into the wall. On one hand, it was pretty funny. On the other, it was the saddest and scariest thing I'd seen her do. She was totally bewildered. Only when she looked at me did she realize where she was.
Last night I was attempting to wrap some gifts. This ended poorly. I was interrupting a nightly ritual: Clara, Jenn and Clancy Cuddle Time. Clancy seemed fine with this change in routine, he flopped himself on the floor by my feet and fell immediately to sleep. Clara wasn't having it. She was attempting to will herself onto the bed by slowly creeping up, up, up and over the gifts and paper and scissors and ribbons. I would lift her up, place her back on the floor and try to finish. By the third time, it was a lost cause. She had started shaking uncontrollably. Her whine was getting louder, more panicked and more urgent. I put away the gifts and wrapping supplies and with a great sigh of relief, Cuddle Time resumed its normally scheduled programming. She pushed her entire body up against me and pressed the top of her against my cheek. And it was then that I really got a glimpse of how much she was hurting. Emotionally and physically my girl was suffering. She can't tell me, she can only show me. And my heart is breaking.
I am at this moment waiting for a call from her trusted and respected doctor. A good vet is hard to find and you cannot do better than Countryside in Granby. Wonderful people, the whole lot of them.
So, that's where I am right now. In a full on flare up of aching joints and muscles, headaches too. Trying to hang on for a few more days with my girl, trying to count the days to Santa and fill them with a happiness that my kids will remember when they grow up. Remembering that this is all supposed to be fun and light-hearted. I'm trying...
I have nothing to add to the nation's grief over what happened in Sandy Hook. I could write and write and write about it, but really, I feel its useless and pointless. I was home Friday with a fever and sick kids. I saw the news and I cried. I cried and cried and cried. I cried more that weekend than I think I have in a very, very long time. Like every other mom out there, I hugged my kids. I thanked the random universe that this didn't happen in my town. I thanked whatever cosmic energy or random shift of the space-time continuum for keeping us safe. And then I hoped against all hopes that there would be an answer. That part hasn't happened yet and my hope has faded. Random act of violence. Fingers are pointing all over and some land on this young man's mother, on guns, on mental health issues and lack of housing or help. Time will tell, I draw no conclusions and my fingers are tightly wrapped in a ball of anxiety.
To be perfectly honest with you, my thoughts today are on my dog. Clara. My beautiful girl who has led a life I know little about. That's what happens when you rescue a dog with a few years on her. She is ten now. She came to me as a foster dog in January 2009. One year ago I took this photo:
 | |||||||||||||
| January 2011 - Clara and JP |
I'm struggling with her being in pain. Her arthritis is pretty bad even though she is on medications for it. And now, well, she is sort of losing it.
She's been acting strange. She seems to get lost in one room or another. She hides in closets and under desks. She will get stuck in a room staring at a wall. She paces and whines and cries. Unless she is in physical contact with me. If we are laying together or if she has popped herself between my legs while I wash dishes or cook dinner, she seems fine. As soon as I have to walk away from her or leave the room, she is up and limping along beside me. Whining. Shaking Terrified I am going to leave her. It is absolutely the most gut wrenching thing.
And so here I have this wonderful dog getting along in her years. She eats fine. She drinks her water like a horse after a race. She goes outside to potty. She seems happy when she sees me come home. She isn't herself though. She is an odd replica of who she used to be. She will occasionally attempt a jog, but after two steps she is back to a terrible limp. She doesn't really jog or walk, its more of an awkward shuffling of four legs that magically propels her forward. Her whole body shimmies side to side, she concentrates on her target and wills herself forward. She will plop herself down heartily and stay down only as long as I am seated and still. Otherwise, she shadows my every move. She will lean backward and press the top of her head against my legs. She will reach out with a front paw to touch Seth or JP or Danielle or Autumn. She cannot sit near you, she must sit ON you.
I came home from work Monday and I couldn't find her anywhere. I was darting from room to room looking for her. Calling out her name even though she can't hear me. I found her finally in the closet in the boys' room. The sliding door was open, but there she was in the dark, curled up and acting like she had never seen the room before. When I opened up the door even wider, she startled us both by bolting out of the closet and running headfirst into the wall. On one hand, it was pretty funny. On the other, it was the saddest and scariest thing I'd seen her do. She was totally bewildered. Only when she looked at me did she realize where she was.
Last night I was attempting to wrap some gifts. This ended poorly. I was interrupting a nightly ritual: Clara, Jenn and Clancy Cuddle Time. Clancy seemed fine with this change in routine, he flopped himself on the floor by my feet and fell immediately to sleep. Clara wasn't having it. She was attempting to will herself onto the bed by slowly creeping up, up, up and over the gifts and paper and scissors and ribbons. I would lift her up, place her back on the floor and try to finish. By the third time, it was a lost cause. She had started shaking uncontrollably. Her whine was getting louder, more panicked and more urgent. I put away the gifts and wrapping supplies and with a great sigh of relief, Cuddle Time resumed its normally scheduled programming. She pushed her entire body up against me and pressed the top of her against my cheek. And it was then that I really got a glimpse of how much she was hurting. Emotionally and physically my girl was suffering. She can't tell me, she can only show me. And my heart is breaking.
I am at this moment waiting for a call from her trusted and respected doctor. A good vet is hard to find and you cannot do better than Countryside in Granby. Wonderful people, the whole lot of them.
So, that's where I am right now. In a full on flare up of aching joints and muscles, headaches too. Trying to hang on for a few more days with my girl, trying to count the days to Santa and fill them with a happiness that my kids will remember when they grow up. Remembering that this is all supposed to be fun and light-hearted. I'm trying...
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