Friday, January 16, 2009

Post-Gus, Day 2

Well, it's the day after saying good-bye to Gus. I don't want to be melancholy, but I am. I don't want to look in the refrigerator and burst into tears, but I am. My heart still pounds painfully every so often - I think with remembered dread still causing a spike in my heart rate.

I threw his medicines away this morning, the stop-the-nose-bleed drops, and the pain pills. The pain pills made me wheeze and gasp, trying to not to sob. What really got me were the treats under the sink I bought him for Christmas, still there and unfinished.

The house this morning was quiet - so much so it was eerie. I didn't realize what a loud dog our blind sheepie was. There wasn't any of the extra bustle that had filled my mornings. Getting Gus up and down the hallway, following him around outside in the pre-dawn dark, getting him in the house, and his gentle huffs and sighs. Gus panted, probably because he wore a wool coat, albeit fashionably short in warmer weather, but still warm. And he thunked into things, which sometimes made the whole house rattle.

The muppets seem to be feeling the change. For the first time ever, they came back to the house on their own this morning with no extra prompting (read yelling, calling, or chasing down.) Sookie especially knows her big brother is missing. She was upset yesterday when she saw his body in the garage, and this morning she seemed mopey. Elrod was upset because his people were upset. The cat who was outside during the day's events, came in last night, and searched the entire house sniffing and looking. The Jack Russell, in typical terrier fashion, is acting like nothing is wrong, except not having enough food in his bowl.

I realized sometime last night that I could have a coffee table again. After 9 years of no coffee table, I am kind of used to the anti-extra furniture trend. I can't imagine having a coffee table. Really, can't. In my head, it makes the room smaller, and a lot more lonelier. Maybe in a few months I'll think about a coffee table, but I can't yet. Besides the muppets need their wrestling space.

I know that all the extra care and tending I put into Gus I can now point and do something else with, but I am not sure what. I would happily keep giving all that I was giving to have a healthy Gus back and in my arms. But the point is, I can't. I am coming to realize that what I was telling myself to make myself go through with our decision to euthanize Gus was really, really true. He wasn't coming back, he was dying in pain. The die were cast, his race was run, and it was time to let him go. His spirit - the spark that made Gus - had already left and was only held by the merest tether of a beating heart.

We thankfully have a busy weekend in front of us. Tomorrow we go see the Lippizan stallions in performance, Sunday we may go upstate to have dinner with Joe's family; and hopefully Monday, my parents will be here, trying to flee any more bad winter weather. I really need my mother's hug right now. I am buoyed by the news that my brother and sister-in-law are getting two foster puppies tonight! What a great adventure they have in front of them! I am almost jealous. We can plan our first weekend get-away now; it's almost been a year since we've gone anywhere.

But in between all that, I'll be missing and thinking and trying to smile about my big sheepie, Gus.

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