A One-two Punch

I really don't want to turn my blog into a litany of poor me's, but some days life just hands you a one-two punch that leaves you staggering.  I had one of those days today.



Chance

 I've decided nothing good happens at 5:30 AM.  Last Friday, I received a phone call at 5:30 telling me my dear mum-in-law had just passed away.  When I woke at 5:30 this morning, I thought I was just restless because her services were today.  Then I realized what woke me was the sound of labored breathing.  Chance, our 12 year old beagle/basset who has congestive heart failure, was struggling.  He's been short of breath off and on for the past couple months but I could tell this was different.  My first thought was to take him right to the vet.  My second was, I can't, we have to go to the funeral home.  So I just sat with him and petted him until it was time to get ready.  Then something bizarre happened - he disappeared.  We couldn't find him in the house or the yard.  I didn't think he was well enough to be romping the neighborhood (a bad habit from his wild and reckless youth) but I was afraid he might have wandered a little way from the house and collapsed.  We searched as well as we could, then had to leave.

The funeral service went well, or as well as these things can go.  There was the early visitation followed by the church service followed by the graveside service.  There were lots of tears but we got through it.  And in the back of my mind the whole time was the question, where was Chance?

Well, lo and behold, when we got home he was in the yard, just where he was supposed to be.  Still no idea why we couldn't find him that morning.  But he was in bad shape. His breathing was worse, he was drooling, and he turned down a piece of roast beef.  He never passes on roast beef.  I juggled the next couple hours between talking with the family and friends who had come back to the house and checking on Chance.  Then everyone left and we headed for the vet.  I had an awful feeling this was going to be his last trip, and it was.  The vet confirmed that Chance's heart had enlarged to the point that it was constricting his airway.  No way to reverse it.  So we did what had to be done.  We kissed him and petted him and talked to him, while the doctor slipped a needle into his vein.  And he was gone. 

But I told him before he died that, if he hurried, he could probably catch up with Mama, and they could make the journey together.


Okay, give me a day to get past this and I'll get back to a regular blog.  Thanks for sticking with me.