Life Is a Bitch

Dear, sweet Kelsey passed away. His cancer was growing rapidly and he had a GI bleed. He stopped eating solid food for two days. He drank only water and a few sweet pea leaves. He wouldn't touch chicken, beef scrambled eggs, cheese or any of the usual foods he loves.

He kept getting weaker until this morning he tried to stand up and collapsed. He had slid into a place not reachable by me. He was clearly suffering and not responding to me.

I did what I do for end-stage patients. I gave him a large dose of morphine. He relaxed and his breathing was no longer labored. I sat with him, petted and massaged him and told him how lucky I was to have him. After four hours, I had to leave for work, so tearfully, I asked my parents to come and stay with him, so that he would not die alone.

They came and took over the death watch. I have the greatest parents to help me out in times of crisis. I cried all of the way to work. I didn't cry at work, I was just a zombie and barely made it through the shift. On the way home, I cried on the drive home. I didn't know what I would face at home.

My parents left a letter for me taped to the door into the house. They said that Kelsey stopped breathing at three thirty-five and never woke up. His death was peaceful surrounded by his loved ones. My parents took his body to their home. I would have preferred to bury him in the back yard, but if he is cremated, than we can someday be buried together.

Kelsey was my best friend. He was a rescue dog who needed a home when I needed a dog. I tried to be a good guardian to him and he was a sweet, gentle platinum blonde Golden Retriever who followed me all around the house. His hair was the same shade as my hair which pleased me. Children should look like their mothers. I didn't just lose a dog, but my son and best friend. He was only seven years old.

Update, 2/21/08:

I wrote this post after washing down three xanax's with a beer. I couldn't walk without bouncing against the walls and furniture, but somehow managed to write this post, such as it was. I cleaned up the typos today, but left the rest of the post intact, despite my desire to rewrite it.

I was out of my mind with grief. There were a number of people I could have called, but how do you talk when you can't stop crying? It made more sense to write. I reached out into the Internet in pain and people wrote back to comfort me in my time of need. It means more than I can express in words to receive all of your kind comments. Thank you all.