Just Shoot Me. No, Wait!

Received an email, a few months ago. An act of desperation, really. Lloyd the dog was fading, fast, and his significant others were grasping at straws. Their panic was palpable, and Lloyd’s prognosis was non-negotiable. Still, they flailed for a miracle. I know that panic and desperation [and flailing], well. My kingdom for a magic bag of death-defying tricks…

Whenever someone insists “’tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved, at all,” I think — “you’re talking about pets, right?” But then a “pet” is lost, and suddenly I’m not so sure it even applies, there. Grief sucks.

2007 has most certainly been an annus horribilus for animals and the people who love them. We lost ten of our own, and it seemed there was a Lloyd a week. Late one afternoon we were leaving the vet’s, and found an elderly widower sobbing in his car. His seventeen year old companion/dog had died, and now he was alone. Beating himself up because he hadn’t had the money for further medical treatments which might have extended his friend’s life…[forget about how screwed up that situation is, in the first place, but] extend his life for what. Another few weeks? There comes a time, for humans and animals, when the right thing to do is to let go and accept the excruciatingly inevitable. But this man’s grief was so painful to watch, I don’t know how his heart kept beating. Am guessing [if not hoping] that it didn’t, much longer. A neighbor came to drive him home, but his sorrow stays with me.

Our favorite rescue vet euthanized himself, a few years ago. Ketocet City, and I totally understood. We used to wonder how he managed to keep on keepin’ on. He’d seen a steady stream of mutilation and death, every day, for years. And one particularly brutal summer, it all proved too much. We heard the news when they called to cancel an appointment…and realized we were on thin ice, ourselves. We’d never take such drastic measures, but we did decide to flee these killing fields. [Yes, another uber-festive Christmas story.]

There’s so little time for blogging, and it seems whenever I’m determined to continue telling Cindy Crawford’s story, one of ours starts leaving or news of the Lloyds arrives. Then all I want to do is bury my face in fur, and leave CC at her post on the roof she loved and ruled. Christmas [1998] is the day she “officially” became ours, so I decided to try again, today, but. Bro and I started reminiscing…then buried our faces in fur. [This being a Christmas story, there's your obligatory happy ending!]

Yes, when it comes to humans it’s just stoopid, if you really think about it, but as for animals, I’ll agree — ’tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved, at all. No matter how much we miss those who’ve gone, those left behind are nutjobs who make it impossible to feel otherwise. Those yet to come will surely continue this grand tradition. And it would be no surprise to learn, one day, that Lloyd sent an emissary to those who were inconsolable without him. That’s just the way it goes [if you let it].

2007 is almost behind us! Personally, it was a drag; universally, it was one great big Jerry Springer Show; and it can’t end soon enough for my tastes. May 2008 be the year humanity gets a grip and animals get a break. Happy Holidays!

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