Song of the day: “This woman’s work” by Kate Bush. Such a beautiful song, and appropriately sad. Yep, these were some pretty heavy days and anything remotely cheerful would not have suited.
First off, yesterday morning grandpa informed me that Gaucho, our Afghan Greyhound was having pains in his sides, so after a quick breakfast, cousin Ed and I took him to the vet, who took one look at him and said, “Oh my, he’s old, isn’t he?” And yes, he is…or was. I think we got him in ’98. He was about eight weeks old and as cute as a button. We got him from a family about two hundred and fifty miles away from here, who couldn’t find a buyer for him because he was black colored, and here in Spain a lot of folks still don’t like black pets. There’s a similar problem with black cats. Don’t ask me why, I don’t really understand it either. Maybe it’s a superstition thing.
But anyway, Gaucho was a sad puppy, (looked a little like lemur with a thin curly tail, when big brother carried him into the house so many, many years ago) who grew into a big dog with a mixture of both haughtiness and shyness. He was always a little apart from us, as much as the rest of the dogs, and was most content living at grandpa’s place where at least the big pack didn’t bother him.
Over the years, he developed arthritis and became terribly stiff, and in the past year lost most of his hearing, and now, yesterday morning, after a short discussion with the vet, we decided to not put him through a hole battery of tests after we were both pretty sure that his kidneys were failing (lots of drinking, smelly pee, and now the pain in his sides) and made the dreaded decision.
He went with dignity, as I expected of him, really, and fell asleep with both me and Cousin Ed holding him.
It was definitely not the most auspicious beginning of the day, and it kept us from cleaning Njanna’s and Carla’s ears again. Ah well, it couldn’t be helped. After a quick burial, we headed down into the yard and basically spent the remainder of the day planting a couple of trees (clementina and a plum tree) and clearing away more debris from where we’re rebuilding the old terrace…and adding a new one.
There was the preparation of supper, and then a trip to town to pick up some more stuff for the market (just like today, for that matter). We did manage a good edit, so that was a reassurance at least. We did more than nine pages in fact, and what with everything going on, that’s not bad at all.
Then of course, today came…
Yep. After a rather late workout, followed by laundry and some chores, grandpa informed us that Njanna, who he’s been trying to take for short walks, hasn’t been wanting to get up for the past couple of days. So big brother checked on him, since he appeared to have been doing better ever since we’ve been treating his infected ear. Turns out his benign skin growth, had doubled its size in the past three days since we last cleaned his ears. And he was in pain, poor Njanna. Boy was he in pain.
You have to know a few things about Njanna to understand why I say that.
In ‘99/’00 Njanna came from a local breeder who couldn’t find a buyer for this particular Golden Retriever. He was a shy dog of one year when we got him. He had spent the majority of his life in a three by six cage, and had so little musculature that he could barely walk properly when we got him.
Due to faulty breeding Njanna has had a lot of medical problems most of his life. First problem he had at age two was a vein popping in his penis after he tried to hump one of the other dogs. It earned him a long operation where they had to locate the punctured vein if for no other reason than to have his penis retract. It was not a fun procedure, nor the weeks of aloe vera with ice water treatments designed to help his skin recover. The long term exposure had made the top skin of his penis come loose. I know, TMI, but this is important in regard to Njanna’s character.
During all that time, with everything that had to be done to save his little willie, Njanna never made a single sound.
Several years later, when his ear started to swell, and kept on swelling no matter what, he once again went through surgery. 64 stitches later, daily scrubbings to keep it from infecting, and then a continuing ear problem since the vets were never able to find that final stitch: Not a sound.
A few years ago, a large skin cancer on his hip the size of half a football, while at the same time a malignant tumor grew in his back foot until it had literally devoured one of his bones. Both had to be removed and again, poor Njanna never made a sound.
And yet there was this morning when we tried to carry him up the mountain, but he didn’t want to because it clearly hurt, he trudged up the mountain and let big brother lift him into the back seat of the Opel. Then, while driving, he started to whimper, which brought tears to my eyes, because in all the years I have never heard him utter such a sound before. Gawd, the poor thing must have hurt so bad. I couldn’t get to the vet fast enough, and when we did, and the vet turned out to be unavailable for at least half an hour, we asked the nurse to give him a pain shot.
She decided to go for morphine, and while we waited for the vet, sitting on either side of him on the floor, he slowly calmed down.
When the vet finally arrived it was over with little to no discussion. The cancer on his chest was swollen to the point of bursting, the others all over his body were too numerous to all remove and…well, he was done. He was so very done with life.
So, with his head in my hands, he got the injection and was gone in less than five seconds. Quick and quiet. The best way to go if they can’t pass in sleep at home, if you ask me.
I had that panicky feeling again. The one that goes "Notsofast, notsofast, notsofast" in my head, over and over again. It makes no sense whatsoever, but there you have it. *sigh*
There was a decidedly heavy atmosphere when we got home and buried him under a tree. Two in a row was definitely not the highlight here, even though I know full well that it is just consequence to a decision we made so many years ago. Part of life, the way it functions, the way we are able to appreciate it to the fullest, is because it is finite and part of a chain that will allow those after us to live. Still, at the moment I have a severe dislike for time in general. *sigh*
After helping tenant, who was understandably sad about the two debacles (she too is a dog lover and has lost her share of pets in her life) and settling her on my porch (regretfully I wasn’t my usually chatty self, *sigh*) grandpa and I headed down into the yard to continue with the terrace stuff while big brother worked on the Opel, which had a broken headlight. Since his back is still not fully healed, there wasn’t much he could do down in the yard anyway.
Added a few more feet to the narrow fruit tree terrace, and scraped away more debris, calming down considerably with the basic activity. After that there was lunch of veggie burgers before we headed out to get a batch of rocks, and then, after unloading at home, went to town for another pick up trip.
Which brings us to now, several hours before midnight, and seriously DONE for the day…right after a
short edit of course.
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