I started this blog 11 years ago to help share and keep everyone updated on the day-to-day happenings of what we were all going through with our NICU baby. It was a practice in selfcare; so many wonderful loving phone calls checking in on us, but it was so painful and emotionally draining to have to share our journey over and over again, one phone call at a time. It’s been 7 years since I’ve done a post. Right in the thick of the tumultuous 3’s. The 2’s ain’t got NOTHING on the 3’s! Hmmm, I wonder why I stopped?
This past week
we received lovely cards, texts, phone calls, and treats (feeding my feelings
is my favorite), and as lovely as they were, I couldn’t talk about it. I couldn’t feel your feelings because I was
just too busy being overwhelmed by my own.
I know you understand but I hope you also know they were everything to
me and I am grateful for you.
What Happened to our Harley?
What happened to our Harley? He was a 14 ½ -year-old Weimaraner (lifespan is 11-14). That alone tells the tale. I had hoped one day I would find him curled in a ball, fast asleep forevermore. We saw him turn into an old man right before our very eyes. His body slowing down. His bolts out the front door turned into saunters. Food on the counter was no longer at risk. He could still snatch a piece of chicken out of your hand if you let your guard down though. His hearing while selective, diminished. His eyes clouded. We KNEW this was coming but you hold out for hope of more snuggles, more kisses (even with his atrocious breath), more love, more time.
We were told 6 months back he had a neurological disconnect, I mean the poor boy had dealt with seizures since he was 1 ½. Harley’s body stopped cooperating with his brain. His legs would buckle, his hips would give out (the arthritis worsened), but his face was spry! Slowly it happened more and more. In February they told us he had developed a heart murmur, “We could test…at his advanced age…” The doc couldn’t just come out and say it. I said it for her, and she agreed. “He’s old and his body is getting ready.” Less than a month later he stopped eating, not all together, but somedays he ate enough to give us hope and on other days enough to give us concern. Of course, we glommed on to the good days and I slept very little on the bad days. In the end he slept a lot. He fell even more. He ate less.
The next morning a loving gentle doctor came to our house and confirmed our boy was not himself, and in the matter of minutes his pain was gone and ours began.
How are the Boys?
Kaz insisted on being there. I will NEVER forget how his “manly” voice (puberty has hit our house) sobbed. Wailed. That sound is gonna live with me for the rest of my days. He wasn’t “strong”, he was present, he felt freely, and while it broke my heart, I’m so proud of the vulnerability and emotional strength he showed. Zane, while his brother didn’t understand it, he was dismissive, left abruptly, and stayed away as long as he could. Four days later his grief hit, hard. We all gathered around him and watched a little heart break full of regrets, and couldn't help but cry with him. This has turned into a wonderful lesson on how we need to give everyone grace to processes things differently.
Yes, they (mainly Kaz) are already talking about another dog. Kaz has grand designs on a playmate for Rufus. A small cute lap dog. Aaron is not thrilled by that idea but he was the first to say, "Whatever that sweet boy wants..." Clearly the grief was talking. Long ago Kaz put Harley's nail clippings into a specimen jar with the intention of cloning him. The day we said goodbye he brought them out and placed them on our mantle. So how are they? Coping in their own unique ways.
How are You and Aaron Doing?
Aaron came home from a run and asked, "will you lick my legs." He is obviously coping in his own way too.
How's Rufus?
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