Tis a Hard Sunday

I had a hard time getting up. I kept thinking that last Sunday, we -- Mona and I -- had a good day together. I spent Easter home alone with the pets. We had breakfast, played outside a bit and then watched Buffy videos all afternoon. It was grand.

Today, I'm moving like a slug. I scooped one litter box and did two loads of laundry. That has to be a success b/c I don't think I'm capable of anything further.

Xander continues to be super bonded to me. I can't move without him underfoot. Poor baby.

Saturday Weepies

Today has been a little bit better. Ledcat and I have not weathered the storm well, having had a lot more arguments. I guess grief can create some pretty big chasms. We are trying not to take it out on each other, but being snide is just second nature to my pain and anger. Sigh.

The boys are still lost at sea. Every time he comes in from the backyard, Xander runs frantically through the house looking for ... I can only presume, his sister. Deus doesn't seem as worried and just sits to wait for the petting to commence. Having dashed, Xander comes to find me and just seems puzzled. I walk him over to smell her collar, but I'm not sure he understands anything about this at all.

Today, Ledcat and I took a drive down to Hancock County, West Virginia to visit two sister dogs, Marta and Natasha. I found Natasha on petfinder.com and after calling, learned she had a sister from whom she is inseparable. Ledcat doesn't want two new dogs. She went along for the ride, we argued and then arrived to discover that they had sent the girls out to the local home expo for the day. So we sat for another 30 minutes. I was covered in mud from visiting all the other puppies. Then they arrived. Natasha looks like a taller, leaner Mona. Marta is all Mona personality ... like a mini-husky who loves belly rubs and makes grunty sounds. They are really sweet girls. Very gentle, no jumping. Very bonded (kept looking over shoulders to eyeball the other). They need some obedience training, but it wouldn't be hard.

Could they adapt to the boys? Why do I want another dog so quickly? Are these the right dogs for us? I don't know.

I was relieved to learn they won't be put to sleep anytime soon. Also, that, sadly, the kennel is the nicest home they've ever had -- they were found battered and abused about 6 months old and weren't expected to live.

I'm very tired so I can't make sense of this right now. We've agreed to table the conversation. And we had a lengthy chat about Mona tonight without crying. Our vet sent us this wonderful card that everyone wrote in which made me so happy. My friend's 4 year old daughter signed her family names in a condolence card send to Mona. That definitely brought a lump to my throat. Then tonight a friend called to leave a message on my voicemail because our neighborhood barista told her! How is that for community!

The hardest part of any day is walking through the front door to ... nothing. Sometimes Simon is downstairs, but he now tends to remain upstairs with his siblings. He used to share the couch with Mona (and the window perch).

I think we have a chance to give two lost little girls a new home. If not them, I suppose there will always be another dog that need a home.

Good night.

Friday

I can never keep the order of the states of grief straight. Today, I'm just sort of numb. Our dog trainer stopped by with some Kongs, 50% of which are useless to me know as they are too small for the boys. Deus and Xander were happy to see her ... she always comes bearing treats.

Yesterday, she advised me to sit down and talk with the dogs about what happened, swearing they might understand. So I gave it a try. They've been pretty consistent today. Don't want to go outside without me, though. Poor babies. I gave them a treat in a Kong before Debby arrived. They knawed individually for awhile, then Xander collected them in a pile. He sat on one and chewed on the other. I took it off him and gave it to Deus -- the little idiot took it again. I guess he's asserting some take-charge attitude. We'll see what happens.

I'm supposed to go shopping for my friend's baby shower gift this afternoon. I think I'd prefer to stay home and watch Buffy videos. I know which is the healthier option. Sigh.

Kitties are doing good. Simon keeps laying on Mona's bed. Deus has been sleeping in the spot he shared with her at night -- he slept in it when she was on the bed. Deus has also been getting on the couch more frequently.

I think the most difficult thing for me is reliving the final moments. Mona was struggling against the injection and then -- poof -- it was over. Part of me feels like she was telling me she wanted to live, but I know she couldn't breathe and that had to be taking a toll on her. I keep trying to remember if I held her right or said the right things so the last thing she knew was my voice and I can't remember. I can't remember. Eleven years and I just don't know if I let her go right.

Sigh.

Thursday

Today was pretty rough. Ledcat had some sad moments getting ready for work because Mona typically laid on her pillow each morning and watched, all the while thumping her tail as if to say "ha, i'm staying right here." I cried my eyes out in the car when Pink's "Never Again" came on, especially the lyric about cherishing the last kiss. I'm scared that I didn't kiss Mona good-bye enough for her to remember and that she was afraid.

The boys are confused. When I let them in from the yard, Xander went tearing around the house looking for ... something. Mona's collar is hanging from a bookcase and he finally sat next to it, sniffed and pawed at it. My heart broke. Deus seems less concerned, but he's a lot more laid back. They aren't eating. I don't want to eat either.

I've been looking at other White Shepherds for adoption on petfinder.com. I found two, one is pretty close in Hancock County, Maryland. She's a cutie. Ledcat thinks I'm moving too quickly. But I think rescuing a dog in need is a good thing. She gets a loving home and we get to start healing that hole in our hearts. I don't know. I know she won't be Mona, but at least she won't be ... no Mona at all.

Does that make me a bad pet owner?

A new day ...

(crossposted from www.pghlesbian.com)
Yesterday, I thought, was a tremendously sad day. Our beloved Mona who had fought cancer for 10 months and three days reached her final day. All the way to the vet, I kept hoping there was some alternate explanation, but no. We put her to sleep and I have all the usual comforting thoughts about her being "across the Rainbow Bridge" with her best friend Jack and her beloved veterinarian, John. She only had one bad day out of 10 months and three days and that wasn't painful, just her way of telling me it was time to let her go.
Today is a tremendously more sad day. There are reminders everywhere, in the most unexpected ways. The thump of her jumping off the bed. I didn't hear it today. Playing "Our Lady of the Bedcovers" (she made a cute Madonna) when I make the bed. The 300 minutes in the backyard deciding exactly which spot needed a spot-o-Mona. Her unparalled excitement, just quivering with anticipation, at the leftover canned catfood -- even if the cats were still eating the pre-leftover portion.
She fought a really good fight. She kept her weight up (even gaining a few pounds) through the whole chemotherapy. She was her usual self 99% of the time. She visited with her goof friends, Brenda and Michelle, last Friday and snagged some salmon.
Mona was a stray dog that had been hit by a car and taken to the vet clinic where John worked. Her hip was broken, but not her spirit. She came to be a foster with my family while I was in grad school and living with my parents. She "moaned and groaned" a lot because she was crated -- hence, Mona. She was a very vocal dog. I came home from class one day to find our family dogs locked in the backyard and Mona laying on my Dad as they ate some Saltines and watched the Cooking Channel. She was there to stay. And she never got over her fetish for saltines. Thanks, Dad.
Miss Mona had a brief career as an advice columnist and then became a blogger http://pghmona.blogspot.com. My dog behavior friend urged me to keep blogging about the adjustments of the other pets. So I'll try to do that. Amadeus and Alexander are confused. I let them sniff her collar and my clothes that I wore during the procedure. I know that gives them information, but they really are quite lost. Mona was definitely top dog. Debby (behavior friend) doesn't think either one will want to assume leadership so we are hoping that Simon Le Bon, the cat, is up to the challenge.
Considering he stretched out on the dog bed and wouldn't share with Deus, we might be on to something. Simon has now taken over Mona's bed in the corner of the room.
I had Miss Mona for nearly 10 years. She was the brightest, bestest dog ever. I hope everyone experiences that type of love and loyalty. I gotta go now.

R.I.P.

Miss Mona Dunhoff Kerr

1997-2008

Much beloved by her human and furry companions. She will be greatly missed.

A Month Later ...

Wow, I can't believe it has been over a month since I posted.

Mona is doing well. She finished her weekly rounds of chemo several weeks ago and has been taking oral meds since then. It is very odd regimen ... 1 pill on every Monday and 7 other pills every other Wednesday. Lymph nodes are fine thus far. She goes back for her first round of monthly chemo this Tuesday.

Behavior wise, she's acting very normal. She occasionally has some issues with vomiting which I treat with pepcid per Dr. Rogers' orders. Usually, it happens at 3 AM, of course. :-) Her appetite is a bit down, but she tears into her Kongs with complete abandon so I've been sneaking extra protein and fat in that way. Her favorite is roast beef and cream cheese.

Yesterday, I must have made the cream cheese plug a bit thicker than normal. She licked away at it for a few minutes, then began to pick up the Kong and drop it repeatedly to get the stuffing out. Only the plug was still there. The expression on her face when she realized nothing was dropping out was priceless. Still, she finished it off in an hour.

Yesterday morning I began to cry as we lay in bed. I convinced myself that the vomiting meant she was going to die very soon and got very worked up. This is probably due to our recent sad news that breast cancer is back in one of our kitties, Tabby. Tabby is a 15 year old tiger striped girl who just wants to curl up in the linen closet and have a snooze. She had a lumpectomy last year, but it appears that this bout would require such extensive surgery that we can't put her through it. Her recovery last time was long and she was distraught at being left alone at the vet over night. It hasn't impact her quality of life yet. She's still meowing, eating and asking for petting. No sign that it has impacted her breathing yet.

Still, it is only a matter of time. We'll learn this week how extensive the tumors have become so we may have a better idea of how many weeks we have left with her. I really like sweet little Tabby and it certainly resonates with my struggle to keep Mona healthy so I am very sad. Hence, the crying. I lay in bed thinking back to all of the animals that have either died or been put to sleep and it was like the collective anguish of each of those experiences just washed over me. I was distraught.

Mona came to comfort me and I pulled myself together, realizing that all I can do is appreciate the moments we have left. She's been a trooper these past few weeks -- they all have, even Tabby -- as we've had the bathroom renovated and lots of other invasions of their space. Mona is fast friends with the workmen and even handles the noise well. I'm going on vacation in two weeks and I've promised myself that I am going to take her for a ride or a walk in the park every single day. She loves to go places. Almost as much as roast beef and cream cheese.

The worst part is the waiting. I feel her neck every day, many times. I monitor her breathing. I anguish about the inevitable time when the cancer returns and begins to impact her quality of life -- will I recognize when the time has come? And how will I get through it? When I put Jack to sleep, I knew he was sick and unhappy even if I didn't know what was wrong. But I relive that last day over and over in my heart which breaks a little more each time. Sometimes I'll go months without thinking about it, but Mona and Tabby have reminded me even though the situation is different.

Sometimes I think about getting another dog and immediately the guilt washes over me. I can't replace Mona, I think. But I can fill her space with another woofer who needs a home. I don't know. Sometimes that's comforting to me.

Right now, I'm just crying so hard over something that hasn't happened. Mona is upstairs sleeping with Ledcat ... she loves when there's only one person in the bed so she can have a pillow. She'll be happy today because we'll be home for most of it. That has to be enough.