Sunday morning, where do I start from the memories I have of
this day? To be honest, on Friday morning, before she finally urinated with our
help, she had not urinated in about two days, and it would be a lie if I told
you I was not contemplating about putting her down that day. Just from my own
experience where I had to hold in my pee due to a lack of bathroom for over 30
minutes to an hour only, it felt downright painful and everlasting. I could
only imagine how Lucky was feeling, having not gone in more than an entire day!
I would look at her face and see her sitting or laying in one place, save for
moving a couple inches this way or that way, or changing positions the best she
could have, and say to myself, “My god, she’s got to need to need to pee!” The
only times where I could ascertain for certain when she was in pain was when
she would whine, to which I would go next to her, pet her, and say to her: “I
know you need to go badly Lucky, I know.” I would discuss with my brother about
giving another attempt to use the towel method to help her up, but Lucky would
make it clear to us that she did not want us to do that. I would think in my
mind that we had to do it whether she liked it or not because it must be done
to save her. I don’t know if dogs know that “death” is something that happens
to all. I know dogs are intelligent creatures and I am sure they are much
smarter and cognizant than most scientists give them credit for. So as one can
see, there was no win-win solution. I would either have to try again to force
her up against her will, while trying my best to protect myself, or hope that
when she could not bear it anymore, she would urinate on herself. But when I thought
these thoughts to myself, I was reminded to what we talked about Thursday
night. If it gets to that point, what’s the point of keeping her here for a
little longer? My brother would say, “There’s no point keeping her here in a
diseased body and in pain just so we could selfishly see her for a little
longer.” Based off my beliefs of spirituality and what I’ve learned to bolster
my beliefs, I knew he was right.
I guess the ultimate decision was made when I called a
nearby veterinary hospital which had emergency services. We had tried to get
her up again but she would resist and even bite. I remember my brother saying
that morning after our failed attempt, with his hand on her, “Sorry, you’ll
understand.” In case you don’t know what I mean here, if you’ve read about past
life regressions and “the other side”, you’ll know about the life review, which
is talked about in Dolores Cannon’s books and many other past life regression
and spiritual-related books. So after another failed attempt, I knew I was deep
down, becoming frantic. So in haste, I called the veterinary hospital and was
jumbling thoughts together in hopes that perhaps they would catheterize her to
expel the urine like ER nurses would do for a patient. Of course I knew this
was a very temporary solution, even if it could be done. Again, I was grasping
at straws. On the phone, I relayed Lucky’s situation to the woman on the other
line. I told her that Lucky had not urinated in more than two days. Then, the
sentence that would seal my decision: “Her bladder could rupture!” I had
previously researched a bit about this, wondering if it was truly possible.
From what I had researched, there was no substantive evidence to say for sure
that bladders would rupture versus the bladder automatically expelling after
the threshold reached its maximum point. When I heard these words, I
immediately asked, “Can that really happen?!” Once I heard this, in my mind,
there was no choice left for me. I love my dog very much. I remember a Dr. Phil
episode where a guy got some flak from the audience for saying his love for his
mistress – or whomever, I don’t remember exactly – was like the same amount of
love one would have for a dog. I bring this up to remind that our love for our
family, friends, pets are not incomparable in the sense that one is greater
than the other, but that our love for each of these are different and by
themselves stand. They are different currency. They are different types of
love. They are not, and don’t have to be comparable.
I knew that Lucky was in pain, and the thought that she
could rupture her bladder and be in an indescribable more amount of pain, to
which if it happened, I would be completely, utterly powerless, useless, emotionally
shocked, devastated, and damaged, there simply was no option left. We would try
one last time, to hope for a miracle. To hope that she would allow us to at
least help her go to the bathroom, to see if we could buy more time. With Lucky
positioned in the kitchen on her mattress, I hoisted the towels underneath her
belly up just a bit and I could tell that Lucky was quick to the attention. She
did not want us to. Frustrated, and feeling like we were reaching the end of
rope of options, we knew we needed to make a decision. We left Lucky, who was in
the kitchen, now off her mattress and adjacent to the opened backyard door,
which in our haste to make a decision weighing the risks of prolongation, we
decided to leave wide open to the backyard. My dad was home, I don’t remember
where exactly, so I figured my normally cautious mom did not bother to think
much about closing the door. My brother, mom, sister, and I went onto the van
to talk about this. We talked about the situation at hand, how she had not gone
again in more than two days, how Lucky would not allow us to help her for
whatever reason, how she could rupture her bladder, how utterly futile I would
be if that occurred, how damaged I would be if I had to witness Lucky in that
inhumane amount of pain. We talked again about what Dolores Cannon has found
and stated with conviction to my mom and sister that we know that death isn’t
the end, and how “death” is not at all to be feared because the death of who we
really are cannot die. How the soul, not the physical body, is what makes us
who we are. What we feel when we think of that person or animal, and feel that
love for them, that is not a result of how they appear and feel in a physical
body, but what your relationship you have built with them has been like, and
the things that you love and hate, are all what makes you, you. From the
reasoning I’m making, over many other lives, we look different, but does that
really make it who you are? Absolutely not! We all look different through our
many lives, but I am me, regardless if I’m male, Chinese, 5’11’’, and so on.
I remember sitting in the van, thinking, and realizing the moment.
The moment in time. After Lucky was whining again in the morning, and after my
brother and I made our honest assessments of the situation, my brother found an
at home euthanasia service. My brother and I had taken more pictures of her
that morning in the kitchen where her mattress was situated. There is a picture
of her faced towards the door, towards a completely bright, blue, sunny sky,
which was a first in a couple days. I think a part of me knew that this was the
day. One big reason why in my heart of hearts, knew that today was the day, and
that today would be the best day to do it, was that tomorrow was going to be
the 31st, the last day on the year. I knew fireworks would be going
off. I knew Lucky would be terrified, and in her stationary state filled with
pain, and not being able to go hide like how she used to do around July 4ths,
it would be a massacre! An utter massacre! There was no way that it could have
or would have turned out decent, never mind well.
Certainly a tough moment when I knew the decision was made.
I shake my head while writing this. I guess because it’s just one of those
decisions that have such far reaching consequences and outcomes. My brother had
already called the euthanasia service to see if they had availabilities that
morning, just to see. Turned out, the service was quite busy that day. Many
people were putting their pets down. Normally not a comforting thought, but I
guess knowing, realizing, and remembering the fact that life is coming into
planet earth every day, as well as many people, animals, plants, and all of
life leaving everyday is somewhat comforting. From a grand scale of things, we
realize that “birth” and “death” happen all around the world, every single day,
and every single second. It’s just many souls returning home. I think of it
this way, not to trivialize life. In fact, just recently becoming vegetarian
and thinking of going vegan, along with my decision not to kill insects that
get trapped in my house, but to release them outside, show how much I value all
life. I think of it this way because it is true. Winners tell themselves the
truth. To say otherwise would not be true!
As we went back inside the house after our final decision,
my brother looked through the window as we walked past the front gate,
expecting to see Lucky in the same position as we left her. He yelled in
surprise that he did not see her where we left her. We looked. She was in the
backyard, situated below the step! A good two to three feet from where we left
her! With the four of us in the car, there are only two possibilities how that
could have happened. She either moved by herself or my dad had dragged her
down, to which this latter possibility, I highly, highly doubt based off
knowing him, his values, his personality, and our relationship. My mom
mentioned that she was a good girl for moving outside to do this, whether by
coincidence or some enigmatic intuitiveness.
In regards to the at home euthanasia, we decided that my
mom, sister, brother, and I would part farewell about 30 minutes prior to the
euthanasia servicer getting here – to avoid the reality of the situation from
setting in - and go to a mall, an area with a lighter atmosphere. We would go
to a place with company, an environment that would not isolate ourselves and
allow us to think and let our minds wander into darkness. My brother knew this,
and it was his idea. In my mind, I was planning to go to a parking lot where we
would watch Dolores Cannon Videos and listen to interviews of her on Coast to
Coast AM. But I realize now that my brother’s idea was better. It was more
suitable to keeping my mind in a positive, right state of direction, than what
my idea would have most likely have yielded. My dad would be the one to be
there when it happens. He would let the euthanasia servicer in and sign the
documents. My dad was the best person to do this. He is a kind-hearted person.
He neither loves nor hates pets. He never developed a relationship with Lucky
outside of letting her out, maybe a rare, couple times a month. He never walked
her, fed her, or played with her. I do not say this to belittle him for not
doing so. Really! The fact was that before we ever got Lucky, back all those
years, we knew that he was not a fan of dogs, pets, and that if we got a dog,
we would be the caretakers and owners of the dog. So because of this dynamic,
or lack of dynamic, he was the best candidate to carry this out unaffectedly. I
asked my mom about it before, why dad seems to be able to be stoic in the face
of all this. My mom said that it wasn’t so much that he didn’t feel anything,
but more a way that their generation grew up in and faced when it came to death
of a loved one. When we informed him and our plan, he did not argue it one bit.
I could tell he understood, and deep down, I thanked god that he was so stoic
about it.
My brother made the call to the euthanasia service outside.
I waited inside and paced back and forth. I didn’t want to hear him choose when
it would happen. Even with my beliefs of spirituality, to mark the time when it
would happen, that may have overwhelmed me into tears. My brother was the
leader, he was the ultimate calm in the storm. Through this time of strife and
difficulty, I felt a whole level of new found respect for him.
No comments:
Post a Comment