A continued goodbye...

Tuesday, May 10th. The long slog continues. As I type this I'm reminded of how much I've quietly been waiting the past week + for this day. It marks 2 months since Cassie's diagnosis and the median lifespan for a dog with meningioma. So, I guess that every day beyond today is a gift.

It's actually been a gift to have the last 2 months. We've always known that Cassie would (likely) die before either of us. Yes, we did have plans that have been disappointed. No, that have been crushed... But we have had the chance to say our long goodbyes. We've had the chance to get frustrated with her for begging. We've had the chance to ignore her as we did other things. But, more importantly, since we've known that she isn't long for this world, we've had the chance to look at her every day and remember how much we appreciate her.

That last sentence would have, 2 months ago, brought a flood of tears to my eyes. Now it makes me sad and my eyes moisten, but I'm getting used to the idea of losing Cassie.

We're still trying to figure out how to manage Cassie at night. Recently we'd had her in the bathroom (tile) with the door open and a children's gate across it. But in the early morning she yelped in a way that we'd never heard from her before. We both jumped out of bed. Turned out she *really* needed to go to the bathroom. So, trying something else, last night we went back to giving her run of the bedroom, but following Maxine's idea, we did not give her water (mind you, she's never had water at night up until the last 2 months). At 5am Maxine gave her water (close enough to morning, and she hadn't asked to go to the bathroom all night). She gulped the entire 6 ounces of water down in one continuous drink, lapping it all up. So, we're not sure what to do tonight. Especially for me, since I wake up numerous times just hearing her walking around the room. I'm sleeping no more than 5-6 hours each night these days. And I'm surprised at that, since I thought I really needed 8+ hours.

This morning I took Cassie to her groomer, Tina, at The Barking Lot. A couple things. First, people like Tina are at the front line of dealing with dogs in situations like this. When I called Tina yesterday she told me that her dog has had seizures but that she couldn't afford to treat him (I'm not very clear on what she meant, other than that she was saying we were good parents to Cassie). This is the first time (and possibly the only) that Cassie was out and apart from both of us. Maybe for the rest of her life. So, I gave Tina my cell number and told her that if anything happened I could be there in less than 15 minutes. Cassie was trembling when I left her -- the first time she'd trembled since she started the drugs.

When I picked Cassie up, Tina told me that my kid hadn't had any seizures but that the dog currently in her hands had had one and pooped all over the place. Tina made it all seem so matter of fact. That dogs have seizures. That they poop. That her dog had had one as long as 30 minutes. That post seizure blindness isn't extraordinary. That seizure prone dogs fall into pools and drown. All of this is a reality check for Maxine and I who are taking Cassie as seriously as anything we've ever done. To the Tina's of the world, on the front line, life just happens.

We just don't want life to happen to us. We want to control it...

One last thing. While Cassie was at the groomers, I was at the gym and Maxine was home alone. The first experience either of us has had with the loneliness of Cassie's ultimately being gone...