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2008-09-19 - 10:50 p.m.

Baby Girl

While Buddy wrestles the cheesy ebb of life from his hamburger toy under the coffee table (shiiiiit! watch my toes, fucker!) I thought I would babble to you kind folks for a spell.

Cold beer: Cracked open.

Cigs & new lighter: Handy.

(Sidenote -- I couldn't find a single working lighter in the fuckin' place, so I had to revert to wooden Ohio Blue Tip ("Strike Anywhere") Matches for the last couple days. Which wouldn't have been a problem if they weren't about 10 years old, with the propensity to snap in half like pretzel sticks. I'm not good with matches or matchbooks. Never have been. Using them makes me feel uneasy, and somehow guilty. Like I'm a kid who got into the junk drawer and mom's cig stash. I also hate the sulphur smell they give off when lit. Of course, I only manage to light one out of every 10, and that whole "strike anywhere" thing goes out the window after about a decade).

At any rate, while on a break today at work, I peeled off the warning sticker from my new lighter and stuck it to my leg. Then I started laughing because the warning is completely appropriate for me:

KEEP AWAY FROM CHILDREN.

Yes, parents. Keep them there wee ones away from me!

Preferably a few miles THAT way, please.

Keep going. I'll tell you when to stop.

ANYhoo, things are rather interesting at the house o' Halo. First off, there's the three D's: Death, Divorce and Dipshits.

(This next bit is going to come off very flat and cold sounding at first. I'm basically going to re-live this event to write about it, so bear with me).

My beloved SweetPea passed away a few weeks ago, quite unexpectedly. As far as I can guess, after eating her way through half the couch and easy chair over the preceding weeks, she'd finally overdone it and had some sort of bowel obstruction.

She was sick to her stomach on a Friday night (I was concerned, but not terribly worried), under the weather the next morning, started acting perkier in the afternoon, took a turn for the worse that night and died a few hours later. I couldn't believe it. I was absolutely stunned.

On top of the fact that MY GIRL, a perfectly healthy dog on Thursday was lying dead in my foyer on Saturday, was the fact I had no way to move her 75 pound body by myself.

My foyer is very small, at the bottom of my interior stairs. Her body took up 3/4's of the space and I had to push her over towards the closet, and sideways, in order to open the door to take Buddy out.

The reason she wound up in the foyer was because I'd taken her out about 7pm to see if she could use the bathroom. She was able to get down the stairs and outside, but after about 15 steps, she laid down on the grass to rest and would NOT get up. At first it was like she was just exhausted (after not eating for a day and barely taking in the water I'd tried to give her, I could understand). But then, she went...limp. Completely catatonic. I thought she was dying right then and there. THAT is the first time it entered my mind that I might lose her. Up until then, I really thought she would bounce back (considering an hour before, she'd started acting a bit more normal while lying in bed next to me, even rolling around on her back playfully like Buddy).

Out on the grass, I tried to nudge her to get up and she barely moved. I began lifting her and she was like a rag doll. A very very HEAVY rag doll. There was no way I could carry her back inside and I was in a state of panic, wondering what to do. One thing that really freaked me out was that flies started buzzing around her face (it was a rather muggy day) and something in me was screaming "Jesus, they know she's dying!" I started looking around for passers by, but we were in the courtyard area, blocked by trees to the walking path. I sat with her, as the sun began to fade, talking to her, telling her "Baby, we have to get you back inside. You have to help me!"

I managed to lift her up enough where her front paws were dangling. I had her lean on me and managed to haul her up to a position where she could attempt to walk. She took a few shakey steps with my help, then laid down again. Still no one was around that I could see, and the thought of leaving her in the grass even for a few minutes to knock on neighbors' doors for help bothered me. I felt I HAD to stay with her. I was able to pull her up again...and with a little bit of whatever energy she had left, she walked a few more steps before she once again collapsed. But slowly but surely, we were getting close to the front door.

I recall thinking of that strength that mothers get from adrenaline when their child is in dire need, and that's all I kept focusing on as I hefted her up again, pulling and lugging and straining and sweating in the August heat. We were a few steps from the sidewalk by my front door. I sat down to rest next to her. I was terrified and freaking out and she was totally zoned out. At one point I looked around for help and noticed that there was a neighbor not far away WORKING IN THE DAMN GARDENS, who must've been there the whole time and didn't do a THING to help me. Or was intentionally being oblivious. At further inspection, I recognized her as the older Chinese lady I'd seen around...I don't think she knows English and she didn't look like she was spry enough to help anyway.

I gathered my energy up again, and I still don't know how I did it, but I got Sweets back on her feet, she toddled a bit, and after much effort I hauled her into the foyer. She immediately went limp again and I had to shove her inside the doorway. I was apologizing to her for being rough, but she was so out of it, I don't even think she realized what was happening.

I left her there while I ran upstairs to get some water for both of us, and something to lay her head on. She was panting, but refused to drink. I lightly splashed some water on her mouth and tongue, her face...her paws. I sat on one of the steps and watched her. I was still not able to wrap my mind around the fact that she was dying. She was breathing heavy and staring at the door vacantly...lights on, no one home. A few times I left her to go upstairs for more water and to smoke a cig and figure out what the hell I was going to do. After a couple minutes, she would begin to whine softly for me, so I'd go back down and sit with her. The minute I was with her, she would quiet down.

Buddy came down to sit with me on the steps. He was very confused as well. At one point, she lifted her head up and started drinking the water, and I perked up my eyebrows, smiled, looked at Buddy and whispered "Oh my god! YAY! She sat up! She's drinking! This is a good sign!" I was still trying to convince myself that Sweets was merely exhausted and needed time to rest and recover. After she drank the water, she went into catatonic mode again.

I was mentally and physically exhausted, knew I had a long night ahead and as much as I would've liked to sleep next to her in the foyer, there was simply no room. I decided she needed to be alone for a bit, while Buddy and I got a few winks. I felt guilty, but I knew I couldn't stay smashed up sitting on a stair for hours. So I made her as comfy as I could, told her to "whine" if she needed anything, that I'd be close by, and Buddy and I trekked up the stairs. I turned off the hallway light to give her some peace and quiet.

Of course, there was no way I could fall asleep. I listened for every little sound. About five minutes later I heard a clanging noise and I jumped up to head towards the stairs and heard her taking big gulps of her water. I was so psyched! I went down to check on her and she laid back down and went totally veggie again. I sat with her for a few moments, listening to her shallow breathing...she seemed peaceful, so I went back up to grab my water bottle. At that point, I heard her whine softly for me, and I went back down. The minute I stroked her fur and comforted her, she quieted down again. I talked to her, but she seemed oblivious to her surroundings. She wouldn't blink. Just a flat gaze, yet I knew SHE KNEW I was there. I waved my hand in front of her face. No response. I began to sob while talking to her...telling her how much I loved her...telling her she would be ok...then telling her me and Buddy would be fine and if she needed to let go, to let go...then telling her not to, that she couldn't leave and how much we'd miss her...I was babbling and crying, freaked out, stunned. It was all so surreal.

THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING.

I looked in her eyes and did I imagine it? or did they had a glassy appearance? I took a deep breath in...Ohhh nooooo. Noooo. Oh please NO.

This

Cannot

Be

Happening

Within a few minutes, her breathing started taking on a deep inhale quality, with her mouth grasping for the last remnants of air (very similar to the end scene with Michael Keaton in "My Life).

At that point, it FINALLY HIT me that not only was she dying soon...she was dying NOW.

I told her over and over how much I loved her while crying and shaking and sobbing and telling her to go to Doggie Heaven and say hi to everyone and not to worry about us and how much we'd miss her and to run and chase bunnies and squirrels all day and that'd we see her again soon and how much she meant to me, and I kissed her over and over with my tears dripping on her fur....

I pulled back, looking at her, stroking her. Her breathing slowed down, the deep inhales diminished to barely a whisper, and she took her last breath.

I put my head on her chest and her heart was still working, but not beating...it was HUMMING. A strong vibration was still zooming within her. And it seemed to last forever, but it was probably only a minute or two.

Suddenly, it stopped.

And my baby girl was gone.

There's a whole other chapter about what transpired after all this, but after sobbing for the last half hour of writing this, I think I'll leave that for another time. As well as whatever else I was going to ramble on about.

I have been pushing away from the thought of her loss for the last 3 weeks, because I couldn't bear to dredge it up again. I have been numb, for the most part.

Thanks, folks, for "listening" and letting me get it out.

After all, that's what this damn diary is for, right?

A tribute to SweetPea, created on Second Life, by my good friend Dean: