January 1, 2011

A Year Without Regrets?

I think I lost my innocence last year.  I know, that's an odd thing to say at the age of 43.

It started when my boisterous Julia-Child-length-friend found out her cancer had returned.  She was only three weeks out from finishing her treatment.  Really?  And this time it was in her lungs.  Both of them.  I stood over her hospital bed as she told me and wept on her two inches of hair.  We clung to each other as only two mothers can do both consoling the other and yet having no words to help.  I didn't sleep much that night.  A dry depression sunk over me like that hurtful swallowing you do to stop tears.

Then a few days later we found out Tally, our dog, had Cushings disease.  It was treatable but not curable and the Vet said she wouldn't live out the year even if we proceeded to do the expensive treatments. You might think I'm about to wax on about how much I love this dog.  You're wrong.  I hated her.  Well, it wasn't her so much as just the whole dog thing.  I never was a pet-lover and dogs just gross me out, all slobbery and fartsy.  A friend had offered the already aging dog to us one summer five years ago.  My three kids squealed and my husband gave me the pitiful you-can-say-no-if-you-want-to-but-what-a-meanie-you'd-be look.  And in a moment of vacation weakness, I said yes.

A few weeks later we had a thunderstorm.  Tally was terrified of them and jumped on my bed about four hundred times that night.  I literally growled at my husband who, not surprisingly, slept through the whole thing.  We bought tranquilizers for the dog since we live in Tornado Ally. The friend who gave her to us said Tally had never done that before.  Uh-huh.

Beware, even if your children swear on their life to care for said dog, YOU will be the one doing it. Every morning Tally would wake me up all eager and jumpy.  She'd sometimes have to wait on me to pee before she could.  I didn't love her or pet her or even talk sweetsy to her; but I did have compassion.  I fed her.

It was the eve of Christmas Eve when we told the kids we were going to have to put Tally down.  They said their goodbyes, gave her treats, cried.  I took her outside to brush her one last time.  I'm not sure why, I just felt she needed it. We put her in the car then Steve and I left the kids at home and headed to the vet.  On the way I felt restless and angry.  I snapped at every question Steve directed to me.  He let me and Tally off at the door and parked.

I took Tally in.  She sniffed along the floor and in every crevice possible.  I made her sit.  Her paws slid out from under her.  I realized for the first time how decrepit she had become.  I avoided looking at her and slid more treats into her mouth.  Her eyes caught mine.  They were big.  She was a quiet dog, never barked much. I could tell when she needed to go outside by the panic look in her eyes.  Her eyes were happy now and her tail wagged.

Behind me a gruff old woman attempting to whisper but failing said, "That dog's tail is wagging now but I'll bet it won't be wagging in an hour."

I wanted to shout that I could hear her.  Tears threatened to slide down my cheeks.  I tried to choke them back and remind myself I was NOT one of those people--the ones that think dogs are humans.  I was a dog hater and crying over one was not okay for me.  But my tears didn't listen.  By the time I reached the counter, I was sobbing.  The receptionist spoke carefully as if one wrong move might make the lunatic in front of her blow the place up.  She led a wagging Tally back to a room and said they'd call me when they got her ready.

Steve came in and tried to talk but I continued to snap.  He quieted and left me in my weird don't-love-dogs grief.  Finally we were called back.  The Vet treated me like someone who'd loved this dog from birth and was now saying good-bye to their best friend.  I felt like a liar.  The vet gave us a few minutes alone.  I told Tally things that people who loved her had asked me to say.  Then I told her I was sorry I hadn't loved her. I petted her like a child getting a immunization shot.  The vet came back in and told us what to expect; he gave her the medicine and she was gone.

That afternoon my nose looked like a Christmas Rudolph impression and my eyes like snowballs.  I knew it was probably delayed grief over my beautiful friend and her cancer.  But the next morning I got out of bed ready to take Tally outside and it hit me--hard.  I melted back into my covers and sobbed.  Plastering my face into the feather pillow, I wailed.  I felt regret.  No one else in my family was sobbing, they'd all loved her and had no regrets.  I never once said I love you to that stupid dog.  And now, I regretted it.  Because, gulp, I did love her.  She had sunk into my heart without my knowing it.

Loss is terrible.  Loss with regret is worse.

My friend with cancer will probably get sick of me now because I don't want any more regrets.  I know regrets lurk nearby like those little dust pieces floating in a sunbeam from the window, but I can try to keep them at bay.

For my Julia and Tally, tell someone (or some dumb dog) that you love them today.

23 comments :

  1. You made me cry. That was so honest and real. Emotional entanglements are complex and surprise us sometimes. Perhaps we should all take inventory of our lives and see if there are regrets lurking if we don't work on some of our relationships. Thank you.

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  2. As a fellow dog non-lover...this was beautiful...and I'm sorry for your sadness...for the friend you know you love and the one you didn't.

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  3. You managed to turn two very sad experiences into such a meaningful and positive piece..brilliantly tempered writing and a last line which sticks like glue..thank you for your comment also and Happy New Year..Jae

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  4. Catherine, this was so sad, but beautiful. I am a dog lover and my dog was sick this past week. Thankfully it was something easily remedied, but reading over your experience made me get all weepy. I think she knew, even if you didn't. I think Tally knew you loved her. And yes, you are absolutely right. Life is too short to hold back love. Now go smother your friend like there's no tomorrow! I have a feeling she won't mind. *hugs*

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  5. Well I'm one of those crazy humans who love their dog with abandon. lol. You brought a tear to my eye with this. I lost my first dog in October and it was the hardest thing for me to do. It's surprising how they worm their way into our hearts -even when you think you don't want them too. It's not nice to have regrets though - I have many. I gave my new pup a hug after reading this. Thanks for being so honest about your feelings and putting them out there.

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  6. So beautifully shared. Thank you.

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  7. JaeRose, thank you!
    Valerie, I'm so glad your dog is okay. And thank you, I hope she knew. :)
    Darlene, I'm sorry about your dog. :( I'm glad you gave your puppy some love today.
    Elle, thank you!

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  8. Loss with regret is the worst- I realized that when a neighbor of mine passed away a number of years ago.

    I have a cat I feel the same way about. I'll think of this post next time she bites me. :)

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  9. I can also identify with the strong emotional attachment a pet can bring. We are pupsitting a terrier of my daughter's who lives in the city. He enjoys our back yard so much with its country scents.

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  10. Oh, Catherine. ((hugs)) Her big eyes, her wagging tail, her joy being near you all show that she loved you and felt safe in your love for her. She knew. And I will keep your friend in my prayers. Thank you for this sad but beautiful post.

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  11. Stephanie, good ;)
    Paul, how sweet of you to pupsit.
    Shannon, thank you. *hugs back*

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  12. From one avid dog-lover to another: I feel your pain. My dog had to be put down for lymph node cancer four years ago and it was heartbreaking. It's amazing how they can take hold of your heart. Thank you for this beautiful honest post and I'm sending hugs and good wishes your way. ♥

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  13. What a bravely honest post! I have to say, I teared up too. Thank you for sharing it.
    To live with as few regrets as possible, is an admirable path, I think. Finding the way to that path, may be heartbreaking, though. To (badly) paraphrase a much better writer than I - sometimes I wonder if breaking our hearts open is the way the light gets in - and if perhaps that's why in the greater scheme, that sometimes bad things happen...
    Wishing the best for your friend - and wishing you a happier New Year, with few regrets. Hugs!

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  14. Julie, I'm sorry you had to endure that too. Thanks for the hugs and good wishes.
    Tinker, I love thinking that "breaking our hearts open is the way the light gets in".

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  15. Sweet story. My eyes are misty for you. You and the dog knew about the love. You felt it, even though you never said it out loud. Prayers for you and your friend. This is a tough journey.

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  16. I'm catching up on my blog reading because I unplugged during the holidays, so I just now read this. You put tears in my eyes...but a warmth in my heart. Such an honest and amazing piece of writing. I am so glad I decided not to clear out the old posts without reading them and simply start fresh! :)

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  17. Mary, you're right, this journey is tough.
    DL, thanks for your kind words.

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  18. wow. you had me crying. So beautiful.

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  19. my heart is breaking because yours is.

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  20. Oh my goodness. You did love Tally. I felt sorrow as I was reading this and tears wanting to flow. I know the feeling of having to put a family pet member down and they may not be human but they are God's creatures of love. I tell my family pet member I love her every day and she feels it. I'm so sorry for your friend Julia. Please give her a hug for me and tell her I send her a prayer.

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  21. What a beautiful and meaningful story, Catherine. You've got me crying now too! Thanks for the reminder...no regrets.

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  22. I'm so sorry for all the loss and sadness this year has brought you. I can't even imagine. Sending hugs and healing thoughts your way.

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