1. An easy death for Sam. Believe me, kind and gentle reader, I am as shocked to write that as you are to read it. As of this morning, my sweet Sam is no longer with us. We took him to the vet this week because his belly was distended and he was breathing harder than usual on walks. I took him knowing that many of the things it could be were bad, really bad, but I still thought maybe it could be an infection or even Cushing’s (what a strange thing to wish for) or maybe I was even overreacting. I sent him in while I waited in the car (COVID-19 protocol). His vet called me and said there was fluid on/in his belly and that she could feel a mass. She took x-rays and his chest was clear but there was most definitely a large mass in his abdomen. We took him to another office where they could do an ultrasound, not knowing exactly what they’d find but for certain it was bad.

There was a large tumor on his spleen and another mass on his stomach. We made the decision that we weren’t going to put Sam through any invasive treatments, as the ultimate outcome would most likely be the same no matter what we did. Anything other than some combination of surgery and chemo (only prolonging the inevitable) would have only bought us a bit more time but could have led to a horrible end for him, as his spleen could rupture at any time and he would bleed to death. So this morning we did the hardest thing anyone who loves a pet ever has to do, and we let him go.

The morning was very typical, perfect for Sam who loved his routine so much. When the birds started singing outside, he got up in bed and cuddled with me. A bit later, we got up and he had his breakfast. Then we went on a gorgeous walk, 4.5 miles along the river. When we came home, he “took a shower with me,” one of his favorite things (he comes in and sleeps on the bathmat while I shower). I was hoping he’d come to meditate with me like he does sometimes, but he got on his couch and took a nap instead. In our last hour, we all hung out in the backyard together.

The vet came to our house (we’ve been lucky enough to be able to do this for all of our dogs). I gave Sam a frozen Kong full of peanut butter and his favorite bison meal cookies. He worked on that while she gave him the first shot to sedate him. He tried so hard to stay awake, was so happy with his treat and all the pets, and it was so peaceful when he finally did rest. The very end was just as peaceful and quick, with Eric and I right there telling him what a good boy he is, was. After the vet left, Ringo was able to come out and see him (with the COVID-19 protocols this time, it was too much to have him out during). In typical Ringo fashion, Ringo sniffed Sam and then flipped over and rolled in the grass next to him. I’m still in shock, and my heart is broken. Sam was my shadow, followed me every where, and I’m feeling lost without him.

2. Practice. As much as it saves me usually, as much as it’s done for me during this global pandemic, it truly is serving me now. When we got home from the ultrasound, and were clear about what the right choice for Sam was, before I made any arrangements, I went in my practice room and meditated, with Sam right beside me. I needed to process what was happening and wanted to be really sure, clear about the decision. It offered both clarity and comfort.

3. The love and kindness of people, both those who know and love me, and those who’ve never even met me. We are all dealing with so much right now, losing so much, collectively and individually. Having people support you, offer help and comfort, is what gets us through it.

4. Good food. Even though I haven’t had much of an appetite the past few days, I’ve been glad to have tasty, nourishing things to eat. And p.s., have you tried Beyond Meat Burgers? I like them WAY better than the real thing.

5. My garden. My first peony bloomed today. All my peonies were planted for those I’ve loved and lost, so it was appropriate. I supposed I’ll need to plant one more now. Also, if you are a gardener you most likely already know this, but weeding can be so therapeutic, so satisfying.

6. This morning’s walk with my tiny family. It was the last one we’ll take together, maybe the last one of the season along the river (there were a few mosquitoes out today and with the recent rain and this week’s heat, there will be many, many more).

Bonus joy: strawberries from our garden, being able to text and tell people what was going on with Sam, that he had a really good last week, that he died unafraid and happy and so loved, all the various professionals who are kind and wise humans and helped us through this, flowers on my doorstep (twice), so much love sent our way, a husband who loves our dogs as much as me and is as sad as I am but also willing to do the right thing for them even when it is so hard, that Sam will never have to hide from the washing machine or run away from someone coughing or get a bath ever again, that all my pain means he has none, even the tears.

I don’t want to press publish on this. There’s something really final and true about telling you all that Sam is gone, posting this here, and I know that next week there will be no more new pictures or news of him. And yet, may we all know as much love as he did and when it’s time for us to go, may we go just as easy.

 

 

 

 

1. Yard time. I’m so grateful during this time that we have a back yard, that it has a privacy fence, that the neighbors have big trees. I’m also grateful that we live in an older neighborhood without any association rules so we can do whatever we want in our front garden.

2. Garden season. The risk of freeze and snow has finally passed, so Eric planted the vegetables he’d started from seed. We still need to get basil, pumpkins, maybe some watermelon and those japanese cucumbers I like so much. I’d also like more daisies and some chamomile. I’m so glad Eric likes gardening as much as me, because I certainly couldn’t do all this work on my own.

3. Morning walks. We’ve been taking the new trail they built, the section that allows us to walk down to the school and get on an extension of the trail that now connects to the main one, goes by the field of horses and along one of the ponds. The sky has been so amazing and the river is filling with snow melt. My foot is feeling much better thanks to some massage balls a kind and gentle reader recommended. I got a little sad the other morning because I remembered that soon the mosquitoes will come and we won’t be able to walk along the river until fall.

4. Getting my teeth cleaned. It was the first time I’d been that close to anyone other than Eric in 63 days. It broke my heart a little how careful we all were being with each other, wanting to keep moving forward but also stay safe. I get really anxious going to the dentist normally, so under these conditions it wore me out, but I’m still grateful for the care, for all those risking their safety so that the rest of us get what we need.

5. Good food. Sure, I’d love to eat out again, be served something someone else cooked, but luckily Eric and I are both good cooks and we have access to the supplies we need. Two standouts this week were pizza with spinach, green onion, and roasted sweet potatoes, and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies with toasted walnuts.

6. My tiny family. I am so lucky to have them, so lucky they are safe and well and we are together.

Bonus joy: writing with Laurie and Mikalina and Chloe’, the promise of so many peonies, my infrared heating pad, that Eric can work from home, his paycheck and health insurance, grocery pick-up, pretzels, ice cream, pancakes, crisp Gala apples, dependable and fast internet, good neighbors, texting with my mom and brother, Instagram, our whole house fan and our a/c, clean sheets, getting all the laundry done and put away, toilet paper, yeast, flour, the XM Chill station, lord help me even the Yacht Radio station, yoga, meditation, mantra, writing in front of my HappyLight while drinking a half coffee half cocoa in the morning, how well Sam is doing and all the people who help him do so well, Ringo’s sense of humor and lord help me even his independence, so many people who aren’t giving up, people who wear masks because they know it’s compassion and wisdom in action, the people risking their own safety for the benefit of others, reading in bed at night while Eric and the dogs sleep.