What do you do when there’s nothing left to do? When you’ve exhausted all options, done all that’s possible, and yet desperately ache to do something?
I wish I knew.
mourning
Max
My dog Max died two weeks ago. Although his legs had begun to fail, he was otherwise in good health and spirits, and his passing was wholly unexpected. We’d taken a long walk the day before and he’d been so full of joy! Rushing ahead, leading the charge, till finally he was so spent he’d practically collapsed. He woke us early the next morning, about 3:30 am, crashing around downstairs. My husband rose to let him out, thinking he had to go to the bathroom. Max went out into the yard and laid down in the grass. He wouldn’t get up, even after John called him several times. His breathing was labored, his tongue hung to one side and his lips felt cold. Something was seriously wrong.
John came and got me, and together we went outside and rolled Max onto a blanket and carried his heavy (150 lb.) frame inside. We placed him gently on the rug, then fetched blankets and pillows for ourselves. We laid, side by side, as if on a camping trip. Petting him, speaking to him, sensing – somehow – that this was the end. Just shy of 4:30 his breathing became almost imperceptible, punctuated only by a few deep gasps. He didn’t seem to be in any pain. John woke the girls in time for them to say goodbye. And then Max was gone.
His swift departure has left a hole in the heart of my family. Max lived with us his entire life, from 7 weeks to almost 10 years. He grew up side by side with our daughters, and neither can remember life without him.
We miss him terribly. But even in death Max remains a steadfast presence in our lives. I see him when I walk the woods, I feel him beside me at the beach. Each morning as I rise, I meet him in the hallway where we parted, and every meal I fail to finish I take out to his yard. 2 weeks ago, Max died, and we buried him under the apple tree. And next year, when flowers bloom from his grave, I will think of him all the more.
A dear neighbor gave us a book of poems to help us through our loss. Many are consoling, some difficult to even read, but the one which has touched me the most was written by Rudyard Kipling and is entitled Four-Feet.
I have done mostly what most men do,
And pushed it out of my mind;
But I can’t forget, if I wanted to,
Four-Feet trotting behind.Day after day, the whole day through —
Wherever my road inclined —
Four-feet said, “I am coming with you!”
And trotted along behind.Now I must go by some other round, —
Which I shall never find —
Somewhere that does not carry the sound
Of Four-Feet trotting behind.
When bad things happen to good fish
Months ago I related the tale of my daughter’s MIRACLE GOLDFISH, Sunny & Blackie. Who, though small in stature, survived hours in the back of a bouncing UHaul truck in a cracked aquarium w/out water. Who, though shaken and scarred, not only escaped the icy grip of death but went on to thrive & grow.
Until 4 weeks ago, when we moved. In order to get the fish from our apartment to the new house, we had to drain their hefty tank and transport them in a modest glass bowl. The fish seemed fine the first day. We cleaned their tank and got it filled, but during the next 48 hours, they began to struggle. Days later we woke to find Sunny gone.
15 minutes after a proper burial in the yard, our younger daughter was READY TO FILL THAT VOID. By evening, my husband had whisked her off to the nearest pet shoppe for replacement/s. They quickly returned w/ three tiny goldfish, and by bedtime they were swimming in the tank with Blackie.
The following morning we knew something was wrong. One of the new guys appeared to be sick. He’d developed some sort of spot on his side. It didn’t look good. In fact, it looked seriously bad. My husband scooped him out and placed him in the quarantine bowl, and for good measure, added his two comrades. By the next day, all three were exhibiting signs of the same illness. ANCHOR WORMS. Neither nice nor pretty, Anchor worms are seriously nasty parasites. They burrow into fish and expel their eggs out through their sides.
We were horrified to think we’d not only brought home fish that were infected, but had also exposed our own (mourning) Blackie to the disease. My husband took the 3 fish back to the pet shoppe from whence they came. After explaining that he’d just purchased 3 parasitic fish from their store, and that he expected a refund, they very grudgingly gave him back the money, but were not going to take back the “merchandise.” John stated firmly that he was NOT leaving the store with the fish. After several iterations of I DON’T WANT THEM< YOU TAKE THEM, the manager finally took the bag. Mostly b/c other customers were beginning to take notice.
In the ensuing days, we have watched Blackie develop one lesion after another. We have seen the sprouting of at least a dozen anchor worm egg sacks, trailing from his sides and tails like streamers on a newlyweds car. This morning I resolved to take photos and write this post, in an effort to spread the word. FISH OWNERS TAKE HEED!! Do not make the same mistake we did. When purchasing new fish – even from a reputable pet store chain – never EVER put them directly into your established home tank. Sure, we waited for the water temps to equalize, but we didn’t quarantine the new fish. Being fairly new to fish ownership, I didn’t know this was customary. But that is no excuse. Please, don’t let THIS happen to your pets.
We have been trying to treat Blackie for the infection. First (and unsuccessfully) w/ an over-the-counter remedy from the pet store – Ironically – the same pet store that sold us the infected fish. We have attempted to cure him by NOT FEEDING HIM & subsequently, not feeding the parasites living off & on his flesh. No Luck Yet. Tomorrow my husband is obtaining some Potassium Permanganate from a chemist at the university where he works. It’s a poison, and is supposedly a foolproof way of treating the disease. Historically it was used to disinfect drinking water. I will keep you posted as to the results. Till then, send Blackie your well wishes. The poor guy needs them.