Sunday

A Journey I Didn’t Want…



 We all take journeys that we don’t want to make.  It may be a visit to a distant relative’s home, a wedding or even a dentist but it's necessary and something we need to do.  At times it may also be a mental journey such as waiting for an announcement, job or results from the Doctor.  Some mental journeys can overwhelm us with pain or worry until we know the outcome.

This past Tuesday, I made that journey along with a trip to Louisville with Abbie.  The road trip only lasted for part of the day, the mental journey will last my lifetime.  In the back of my mind, I knew this day would come, something I have even talked to Elaine about in the past, but was surprised of the situation and dog…


Abbie has inoperable cancer and is dying of lymphoma.  Everything was confirmed at the Oncologist’s office in Louisville from a complete exam along with many tests and it can affect any dog at any age.  Since my “hunch” something is “just not right”, my life has been, and is upside down at the very least.  As I knew this day would come, I always expected that their demise would be from old age or injury.  I would never have expected a dog in her prime, full of health and energy fall to such a devastating disease but I soon found out I was wrong, so very very wrong…

Very few people really know Abbie like I do.  She is a pup from Molly and Clancy who was returned to us twice.  The last time she came “home”, we loved her so much we kept her.  She melted out hearts and will lick your eyebrows right off you face.  She is my dog and my protector and will growl at anything but what no-one ever sees is the sweetness in her ways.  She will stand in front to me and reach up for me to pick her up and hold her, which I do while she hugs me with both paws and licks my face.  She always sleeps in my lap while we are watching TV and when sleeping in bed, she will keep any harm from our warm and safe place.


 During the entire trip in the car to and from Louisville, she sat and watched me with her big black eyes and would paw at my arm as a signal for me to touch her which I did.  Even at the Oncologist’s office, she jumped in my lap and peacefully slept as I stroked her face.  In my blog last week, I talked about my walk with Abbie in the early morning hours but what I left out was that I cried like a child most of the time.  She stayed by my side wondering what was wrong, trying to fix me in her own way, little did she know, I was trying to fix her but I can't.   I’ve cried with nearly everyone I have talked to about this, Doctors, family, friends and even a lady at Walmart that I have never met, she teared up too, touching my shoulder and saying “God bless you.”  



Don’t get me wrong, I love all them and would feel the same for anyone of my dogs but Abbie had a rough start and will have a very rough end.  She will be the only dog that I brought into this life here at the farm and I will also bury her at the farm.  Abbie is my complete circle, from beginning to end.   My job is to be with her and to make her as comfortable as she can be.  She may last six week or months, there are many factors that will play into this.  But when “the” time comes, my “most” important thing for her is to help make her transition as peaceful and loving as I can.  Something I wrote last year will come true for both of us.



"If a dog could tell us 10 things”     Insights spoken from a dog…

#10 “Please go with me on “that” difficult journey.  Never say: “I can’t watch, it’s too painful.” Everything is easier for me when you are with me, even death, this is when I need you the most… and then I know you love me as much as I love you. Your face will be the last thing I will ever see.”

A friend told me when she helped her dog cross the bridge, she did this, “I put my nose to hers and felt her last breath on my face as she went off to the Rainbow Bridge"...  and I will too…

The night after our trip to Louisville, we settled down for bed, Abbie jumped up to her spot, curled around in a circle, placed her chin on my shoulder and pawed me for attention.  As I stroked her body, I thought of how many more nights will I be able to do this… as we both fell asleep.

Please… Please… give your dog a hug tonight, tomorrow and always along with your love…

It’s not always roses here at the farm, sometimes it hurts very much.  I’ve always said this blog is “what happened this week”, and this was my week… The morning of the visit to Louisville, I ask God to take this burden from me and if it wasn’t to be, I ask him to help me with the pain… He has a big job coming…  Ken