Defeat
Today is Sunday, February 18. It’s raining in southern
Florida, quite a match for my mood. I feel absolutely defeated and so freaking
tired. How much can one take before they completely break?
I no longer know what to do or how to feel or how to act or
what to think or…. If this were a movie this would be where my voice tapers off
to silence.
It’s not a movie, however, it’s real. It’s as real as it
gets. This whole thing is surreal but here it is, staring me down. There’s a target
on my little fella and nothing I can do can prevent it from happening.
I lied,
too. I know what I need to do, I just don’t want to do it.
I feel absolutely defeated; I feel like I am being punished.
Not trying for the dramatic, it’s just how I feel. I’m about to lose one my little
guys, a kiddo I’ve had in my life since he was 10 weeks old. It’s all happening
sooner than should be “allowed” due to a most horrible disease.
Crazy thing? I was doing this around this time last year
with another pup, Posey. She lost her battle in March. This time thirteen (?)
years ago, I went through it with a 2-year-old Iggy who died in my lap in my
car one mile from the house on the way to go camping.
Don’t even want to talk about this time two years ago.
Leone doesn’t know if he’s sick or how bad it is, but I do
and quite frankly, it’s tearing me apart inside. My guts are a wreck, my head
hurts, I’ve cried at the dumbest times and in the most inopportune places in
front of people who don’t know me from Adam. It sucks. I feel quite alone in
this whole thing. Tim is here with and for me and for Leone, but I still feel
absolutely alone in this whole thing and that makes me feel like shit, too.
I’ve asked “why.” I’ve asked how come, what if, what else,
when…
People always say, oh the animal will let you know. That is
bullshit. YOU must make the decision. This isn’t one of those things where you
let it happen. You must balance quality vs quantity. Right now, his quality is
slightly okay. The quantity is pretty much out the door, his days are very numbered,
and I have to say “when.” That part tears me up. When is the right time to let
them go? Obviously before they start feeling worse than they may be feeling now,
it’s a horrific balancing act.
I just never want to do it too soon or too late. This is where
you doubt yourself, where you listen to every breath, where you feel for a
heartbeat, where you are so tired, you begin to wonder if you can even go on
for a single minute.
It’s now six something in the morning of Monday, February
19. Neither of us got a lot of sleep; Leone’s breathing is harsher, audible.
When he’s standing up or propped up, he seems “normal.” But now I do know and
honestly, I probably let it go longer than it should have. I was feeling very
selfish, I AM feeling very selfish and that makes me not the world’s
best dog momma.
I’m making a call in a little while and probably this time
tomorrow, I’ll be without my little fella who by now has wormed his way into
Tim’s heart.
Leone Broome (he has a marking on his neck that looks like a
broom), Leoneski, Leone Broomstick, Broom, my little fella, Tim’s sidekick. You will
always be my little guy, my little prancing fella.
Why does life have to hurt so much?