(Partial reprint of a post first published at Velvet Sacks on February 17, 2012.)
Friday, February 17, 2012
Bringing Butchie Home
A call from the vet's office lets me know that Butch's remains have been returned to them by the crematorium. I want to go get him immediately, but the tears begin to flow, and so I wait. I wait several hours, until I'm relatively sure I can remain composed, and then I go. In less than twenty minutes, he is home with me again. His essence lives on in my heart and my memory, but all that's left of his physical self is contained in one small, simple, cherrywood box, exactly like the one that now holds Kadi. The cycle is complete, and it gives me peace. Butch is home. Nothing else can harm him.
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7 comments:
Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't know. There are just no words. The image of you bringing his remains home in twenty minutes when he can never himself come home again was certainly poignant. Again, I grieve for you both. I've been there a few times now. Please think of me as a friend.
Snowbrush, thank you. I know how you feel about your own animals, and I do think of you as a friend.
I just thought I would drop by and say hi. I don't know about you, but I've found that I can get over losing parents, but losing dogs is another matter. Even so, when Bonnie dies, I can't help but think it will be in large part a relief because it's so hard to watch her walk into things and hurt her nose especially now that she's 14, and her quality of life isn't any too good. May I never have another blind dog.
I miss Butch...and Kady, and I suspect, you do too.
sandy
Snowbrush, you're right about there being a certain amount of relief that Butch no longer had to struggle so hard, but I blame his age more than his blindness. He managed very well without his sight until he got so old, then he had some good days and some bad ones, but I always thought it bothered me more than it bothered him when he bumped into something. Between the blindness, the melanoma in his mouth, and the stroke on his last night, it just didn't seem fair to make him struggle another day.
Sandy, I miss them both. Butch's loss is still fresh, but it's actually Kadi who left the biggest empty spot in the house. Kadi was always at my side, even when she was napping, while Butch usually preferred to go off into another room and sleep by himself. Sometimes it feels like that's where he is now.
Say, Sweetie, what are you going to do with this blog? I'm hoping you'll keep it going. I'm sure you'll at least keep it on the Internet. It sure helped me when my Bonnie lost her vision.
Hi, Snow, thanks for letting me know that Butch's blog was helpful to you. I do plan to keep it on the Internet, though I can't see there'll be anything to add to it now that Butch is gone. The only idea I've had is to add a new page to the blog and solicit contributions of blind-dog stories from readers to post there. This blog has very few readers, but I would imagine that many of those who do read here have their own stories to tell. Do you think there'd be enough interest in something like that to make the effort worthwhile?
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