This very long, physically and mentally exhausting weekend is coming to a fast end. We've had to say goodbye to our Tom cat, we had family stop in for one night (this was great because we really do enjoy them), and we've flipped a coin several times, trying to decide what we should do as far as buying this house. We're supposed to be closing in a few days, so obviously that's what we will do. The coin flipping is just our way of making us feel like we have some modicum of control over our fate. In other words, if the coin shows two out of three times that we should buy the house, then we feel as if we've made the right choice. It did!... Woohoo, we're on the right track then!
Dealing with the loss of Thomas has been quite an eye-opener. It's been much harder than I suspected. As an adult who has had the experience of losing people and pets I've loved, I'm surprised by how much the finality of each loss seems to take me off guard. My mind takes me through the process of rediscovering this finality as I do small things around the house that remind me that Tom is gone. Spraying air freshener, lighting candles, making the bed, starting the laundry... Tom was always around.
As I blog about this loss, I know that eventually we'll be dealing with the loss of another beloved pet. We have a dog that is 16 years old. Calvin is the furry elder... the one we thought would go first. He's blind, deaf, and senile. He gets stomach upsets frequently, walks around endlessly, and is neurotic as all hell. If you bump into him, he'll tip over. Sometimes he tips over when no one, or no animal, is around.
Though we think we're prepared for the loss of Calvin, I know it will be hard. Here's a short story about the wife and her strange way of trying to handle the loss of our animals.
We had gotten the diagnosis for Thomas a few days before and were discussing what we should do for him. Should we try to keep him alive, should we treat him until his kidneys finally lose the battle, should we let him go naturally, or should we call the pet hospice and have him put down? When the topic of having Thomas put down was addressed, Calvin paced by us. The wife picked him up, hugged him, and was talking to him about how they would miss Thomas. She then said to Calvin "Calvin, do you want to go to heaven with Thomas?" Can I just say I was horrified?! I took Calvin from her and told her to pull herself together. Calvin was NOT ready to go yet. He may be difficult, blind, and deaf, but he is not ready to give up the fight. Hmphh... I then stalked off with him. I hope Calvin will always remember how I helped him dodge that particular bullet. ;o)