4 Hours

Monday evening we noticed Teddi’s breathing had changed. She didn’t seem extremely distressed but it was different. By Tuesday morning her breathing was more labored and we became concerned. She couldn’t get comfortable. She couldn't lay down. She followed me and sat next to me, looking up at me as if to say, “Can you help me?”

It just happened so fast. From the time I took her to the Vet at 9:30, then being sent to the ER to four hours later saying our last goodbye at 1:30pm. It was too much. Our brains couldn’t take it all in and our hearts couldn’t even come close.

When I got to the ER with her I was calm. I had done this many times with Koko and Kizzie. Go to the ER, get some tests, get some new meds and go home. So when the man at the front desk realized who we were (our Vet had called ahead to explain our situation) I heard “Stat!” and he asked the other people at the desk to be patient, we have a critical patient here.

Critical? Did he just say critical? And he was talking about Teddi? Teddi was whisked away, I was put in a room and the nerves started setting in. She’s critical? She’s critical.

I waited for what seemed like hours, but I’m sure it was less than 10 minutes. I realized they were doing a quick evaluation on Teddi. The Doctor came in, introduced herself, asked what I had noticed with Teddi, what medications she was on (five and I’m impressed I remembered all of them). I explained that Teddi has always had a little bit of a wheeze when breathing but it started getting substantially worse last night. Surprisingly she slept fine through the night so we thought maybe it was just temporary.

But this morning it returned with a vengeance. I knew she needed to be seen. The Doctor left to gather more information from the medical staff examining Teddi. The finance person came in to go over the 2-3 day hospital stay that was being recommended, the tests that most likely would be done. It was a hefty price and she asked if I wanted to think about it. Nope, here’s my credit card, do whatever needs to be done.

She asked if I would like to see Teddi before leaving. Of course I did. I sat on the floor and pet her confused little face thru a window to the oxygen “chamber” she was in. Despite being 10.5 years old she looked like a puppy. 

I left thinking – ok, she’ll be in the hospital for a couple of days, they will do tests, we’ll get some new meds and go home. So I was feeling ok. She was in good hands.

So when the Doctor called at 1:00 I was expecting just an update. I got one but it wasn’t what I had hoped for. First, her heart was fine. Whew, I felt uplifted. But… there was the but… The diagnosis is a blood clot in her lung. Can anything be done for that? No. Despite being at 60% oxygen (40% is on the high end) her breathing is worsening, her distress is worsening.

So you’re telling me it’s time.

Yes, and if you can get here soon…

I was in the little room again, but this time with Charlie, waiting for the Doctor. She came in expressing her sympathy, asked if we had questions. Only a couple that we already knew the answers to. She explained Teddi will be in a private room with an oxygen mask held up to her face to facilitate her breathing.

We were escorted to the room and saw our sweet little girl lying tummy down on a soft blanket. I recognized the iv portals in her arm, ready for euthanasia. I quickly glanced away from that. A very kind Technician was holding the mask of oxygen up to her nose. Teddi's breathing was shallow and slow.

We whispered soft, loving words, pet her, hugged her thru tears. I don’t know if she knew we were there. I looked at her perfect little body, the soft fur, the big brown eyes now vacant.

We told the Tech we were ready and she left to get the Doctor. The Doctor came, explained what she was about to do and we nodded. As the drug were administered I saw Teddi’s head lower and then land softly on the blanket.

The Doctor listened for her heart, no longer beating and said, “She is at peace.”

My head fell to the table. I embraced Teddi one last time and sobbed.

Not now, not yet, Teddi. But she was gone.

 

A Thousand Little Things

Adopting Koko at age 6 was an impulsive decision. 

I saw his cute little mug on the Dumb Friends League (Denver) website and just knew he was the companion for our recently adopted Kizzie. 

When we visited with him at the shelter I quickly realized this guy was going to be a handful. He had arrived at the shelter matted and neglected so save his adorable little face, he was completely shaved. He was a little hyper, a little crazy so actually I was a little hesitant about adopting but my husband was all in. So ~ the adventure began. 

And what an adventure it was! We had very little information about his first six years so we were basically starting from scratch. Two weeks in I knew I was going to need some help. He didn't know how to walk on a leash. He was very hyperactive and constantly barking. Oh, the barking...  At meal time he would jump and knock the food bowl out of my hands ~ like he was starving. I had never experienced a pup like this. I needed help.

Enter Dog Trainer extraordinaire, Yukari, who taught me and taught him how to deal with each other.  She spent 18 months with us and became a part of our family. He learned to sit before he was fed. He learned when I said, "Leave it" he wouldn't chase the bunny. He learned when he didn't bark at another dog I said, "Good boy, good job!" and he would sit and get a treat. He learned to control a little of his anxiety. But not all. Some bags were never unpacked. 

He loved watching TV (which led us to believe he may have been left alone with the television a lot in his previous life). But if an animal appeared...

he went bananas. So we got quite adept at muting or changing channels. If anyone dared walk by the house he let them know they were trespassing on his property. 

He knew when a storm was coming. He could feel the drop in the barometric pressure and would begin panting and shaking and pacing. He was scared of thunder and lightning and wind. He was almost inconsolable. The Thundershirt looked cute but didn't help.

 When the phone rang and we said, "Hello" raucous barking would ensue. 

Because he thought someone was coming to the door. Same thing happened if the doorbell rang or my husband called me "Cin" rather than Cindi (we never figured that one out) or the garage door opened or a dog walked by or a truck drove by or a leaf flew by. We just learned to tune it out. He liked to mark his territory so we lived with puppy gates. Everywhere. 

He loved being outdoors. In any kind of weather.

Most of all he loved hopping in the car and going to the Park (barking all the way).

Running was his favorite thing in life. Don't ask me about the three times he escaped the house off leash and ran and ran and ran. And gave me instant heart attacks.

He may have been 6 years old when he joined our family but he was a puppy until the day he left us. He loved tossing his toys in the air and pretending to play fetch. He would bring the toy back to me but rarely let go.

The life of our "Little Man" (as he came to be known) wasn't all fun and games. He had wonky knees (luxating patella) and required double knee surgery, followed by three months of physical therapy. It was then that we saw exactly how strong our Little Man could be. 

  

He looked a little funny for awhile but he made a full recovery.

That wasn't the end of his physical issues. A couple of years ago he was diagnosed with heart disease. He was prescribed daily medications and occasional visits to the Cardiologist.

And true to his fighter spirit he handled it well. But the worst was yet to come.

In August of 2019 Koko was diagnosed with lymphoma ~ and a fairly aggressive form at that. After conferring with an Oncologist he began weekly chemotherapy treatments for 19 weeks. So he was a regular at the animal hospital and charmed the Oncology Team on a weekly basis.

He finished his weekly chemo and was declared in complete remission and a Chemo Rock Star!

Sadly remission lasted only a month. Two additional chemo treatments were tried, to no avail. Our Little Man, our strong fighter, our trooper lost his fight on March 9, 2020.

He was our best boy. Our Koko Bean, Koko Loco, Our Little Man.

He was everything to us ~ and we to him. 

You taught us a thousand little things. And every day there are a thousand little things that remind us of you. Remind us that you are no longer here. A thousand little things that make us laugh, make us cry. A thousand little things that let us know there will never be another you. 

Now Little Man you can run free. Run free, run fast, run with love. 

How blessed we were to know you. Thank you for choosing us. 

Three Things

Long time no blog.

Maybe it was just too hard to return and see A-choo's precious face in my last post.  Or maybe life got busy. Whatever the case I'll give it another go. 

I have good intentions with every new year. So on the eve of 2016 ~ here we go.

I woke early today feeling inspired. I long ago gave up making New Years Resolutions. I prefer to call them Goals. Same thing I guess, but goals seem more achievable. What I thought about this morning although seemed less like goals and more like a shift in attitude.

I now aspire to do three things each morning: Positive Thought(s), Positive Action(s) and Gratitude.  By this I mean I plan to start each day by jotting down a positive thought for the day, followed by positive action (my plan for the day) and three things I am grateful for. Easy peasy. But I do think it will set the day off on a good foot.

I dug out an empty journal (I collect them with good intentions...) and made my notes. 

Awake and inspired, with puppies sleeping at my feet I picked up a book from my bedside table. It is one I started a few months ago and never finished. I don't allow myself a lot of reading time so saving reading for nighttime is a mistake. I always fall asleep two pages in. 

The book I grabbed just happened to be another inspiration ~ "the life-changing magic of tidying up" by Marie Kondo. A timely read as January is typically when I think about things like tidying up. 

Only a few chapters in I found myself nodding in agreement with the thoughts on the pages. It comes down to three things (there's that three things thing again...): 

Discard (read that ~ get rid of a lot of stuff you don't even realize you have), Store (read that as things you really need like ~ oh I don't know ~ food and clothing) and keep only things that bring you joy (that one is self-explanatory).

That last thought resonated with me because ironically I had just heard it last night. In an episode of  "Transparent" Shelley (the Mom character brilliantly played by Judith Light) was in the process of a major purge and reorganization of her home. Her daughter, Ali, (the fabulous Gaby Hoffman) was upset that her Mother had tossed out some of her childhood art. Shelley's response? "It didn't bring me joy."

Boom. There it is. Surround yourself only with things that bring you joy. And as I looked around the room I saw a lot of "things" that are just that - things. They don't necessarily bring me joy; they just kind of take up space. And I am reminded of something I learned in photography ~ there is something to be said for negative space. 

On that note ~ I will leave you with someone who's space is positive (usually...) and definitely brings me joy.

Cheers!

Roll the Dice

So I don't know if its this relentless winter (which brings on cabin fever and I know so many of you can relate...) or I feel I'm missing the passion I usually have for my projects... Or is it the [I think] really sweet thing Facebook did today. In celebrating 10 years of Facebook they did a little video - music and everything - of your personal timeline with your first updates, most liked posts and photos thru your years on Facebook.  

Or if it is an interview I read with Maria Shriver where she quoted a commencement speech she gave awhile back (and I'm paraphrasing):

"Take time to recognize the power of pause -- the importance of stopping and evaluating where you are in life."

She went on to say that sometimes people will say to her, "Remember that?" and she will think "I don't. I was too busy."  

She commented how important it is to slow your life down and find out if you are actually living the life you are meant to live. It's your job to know who you are, to know your value, your mission and what makes you happy so you know what you're supposed to be doing here.  

All of this compounded one upon the other today and it was like a huge wake-up call. Or at least a sit-down-and-really-think-about-this call.

As I stated in a prior post, this isn't exactly a new thought for me. Five years in business, 40 years in Colorado, 21 years married and turning 60 - 2014 is a thought-provoking year.

I shared with my Mister last night that I'm going to take time to think, reflect, evaluate and look to the future. We both have aging parents who need our help. Granted my Mom is 750 miles away but if she needs me I'll be there in a heartbeat. His parents are local and there is more I could be doing for them.

Aging - gez, we have our own aging cat who at almost 21 years old sure could use some more of my love and attention. Oh, A-choo...

And although Kizzie is a very good little girl, I sometimes forget that she isn't a puppy - she will be 6 years old in April. She won't be here forever and I want to enjoy every minute I can with her.

She came into our lives a mere 4 months ago. I regret that I didn't know her sooner so I could have loved her longer. I have said the same about my husband; I didn't meet him until I was 35...

And yes, as I stare down 60 I am aging, too. I find myself really questioning ~ what is my mission?

When I watched my little Facebook Timeline video I was struck by how, with the exception of one, my top-ranking "liked" posts were work-related; as were almost all of my photographs. That was an eye-opener. A friend joked that this was my Jacob Marley moment. I laughed, but thought ~ whoa, he may have something there...

I'm married to a guy who works hard, works a lot and enjoys what he does. So I work hard, I work a lot and - for the most part - enjoy what I do. But I see how work has taken over my life. And even though I created this "monster" there really is more I want to do.

I just have to figure out what that is exactly and channel it. And get this pervasive thought that I must always be productive out of my fricking head.

I get one roll of the dice. 

We all get one roll of the dice. We owe it to ourselves to make it a good one. It's all a crap shoot ~ but I think we can chant our lucky chants, kiss the die and guide them down the table a little...