The dreaded decision.

My mind kept whirling throughout the night; past conversations rerunning through my head, events that happened a long time ago returning without apparent reason, making me feel as if I haven’t had any sleep at all when it’s time to get up.

It’s a beautiful day, but when I let the dogs out I am unable to enjoy it at the sight of Yadzia dragging his butt over the floor. It is obvious that his hind legs won’t support him, making it clear that his last day as arrived…much too soon to my liking.

So I start the day making phone calls to the vet, grandpa and big brother, knowing that I’m going to need help to get the other dogs inside. It is no easy task, especially not considering that Yadzia literally needs to be carried to the house.

Since I am unable to do so–what with Knight II jumping around me and Trin Trin wanting to pounce on my trouser legs–big brother comes up to help the poor lab while I walk ahead to let the pack inside the courtyard.

I have enough time to feed Yadzia his last breakfast. He’s still bravely cheerful; his butt and paws dragging over the tiles uselessly. The mere sight brings tears to my eyes, especially since I have to hurry to make it to the vet in time and really hate the idea of needing to make this decision. It was inevitable, I know, but still…it’s such a waste of a beautiful and sweet dog.

Half an hour after rising I’m in the car, heading for the village where the vet is waiting. There is little conversation when I carry the Labrador into the hospital and place him on the exam table, the vet already looking morose and sad when she sees me lifting his feeble body.

It is over in less than thirty minutes, and I’m a big mess by the time I get back to the car. The logical mind says that he had three wonderful years with me after being dumped by his previous owner and that it would have been cruel and disrespectful to make him suffer through more of the debilitating affliction, but still, emotions are a pain in such situations.

Suffice it to say I am not at all in the mood to do the necessary editing by the time I arrive home, and merely do a bit of online messing around before we decide to head on out into the garden to continue on with clearing vines and weeds away from the actual plants and trees we want to have.

The weather is mild. Real spring weather, actually. There are some veil-like clouds, but most of all there is pleasantly warm sunshine–the clouds I could have done without, I’ll admit–that is beneficial to the work atmosphere.
While the younger sibs head on down to a lower terrace middle sister and I seek out narrow perches on the steep incline over the old pool.

Eucalypts, oleanders and a variety of other plant life need to be trimmed and once again the debris piles rise rapidly on the cleared patches of rocky ground.
The dogs are everywhere, rutting in the dirt, gnawing on branches, lounging about and just running back and forth. A beautiful sight, all in all.

For several hours we hack, saw and cut our way through nettles and thorny bushes until we come full circle at last, ending up where we started several days ago.
Just a few more yards and we’ll have finished the first two terraces that needed work.
This is not even half of what all needs to be done, but at least it’s a start.

While middle sister and I focus on the last few trees lining the path down the mountain, little brother heads on up to the house to start dinner. The remaining sibs start lugging away debris leaving today’s working area relatively clear for the next foray.

With dusk settling we call the dogs–they are more than eager to call it a day–to us, and start on our way to house for wash up and dinner.
Chili sin carne await, and since my stomach is already protesting I eat only little. With yesterday’s pie as desert, and watching a recorded episode of “Life” I’m feeling restless and down.

For a while, wanting to distract myself, I work on my computer, but find that focus is a flighty thing today. Giving up shortly afterwards, I get up again and tackle the laundry of the day, instead. By this time my stomach is more than a little upset, and I just barely make it to the bathroom before dinner gets chucked up. It often happens on days such as this, still it is annoying.

After a little while I settle down for a bit, watching “Medium” and try to calm my stomach with water and being motionless until the evening is slowly drawing to an end.

For about an hour big brother and I manage to edit “Saving Nina” a psychological thriller that I wrote several years ago, but when excitement of improving scenes finally begins to mount the time to retire has arrived, cutting the session short…much to my regret. I could have done with some more distractions today, that is a fact.

While I’m herding my pack out into the courtyard and then the gate, the loss of Yadzia hits me again. I’m so used to having to wait for him that I choke up the moment I turn around to call him…and realize that he’s gone. The same happens when I reach the gate–he always took his time following me outside–and when I arrive at my cabin and start to feed the pack.

For months now I have been spending extra time preparing a substitute meal for him and now I find myself at a loss.
This feeling often reminds me of how “Star Trek’s” Data (Brent Spiner) described how he could miss something too. Something along the lines of: When you’re used to a particular “input” on a daily basis, the loss of that creates a sensation that matches missing very well.

I thought that to be very impressive and insightful when I saw it, and it is so very accurate. An emotion is fleeting and hard to describe, while for android Data’s explanation made so much more sense than any literary story I ever read.

I miss the input of Yadzia being here. His presence, his interaction and his usual cheer, and this causes a discomfort that comes and goes like a tide…only faster.