Defeat

 

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?