With Chester's illness I've been thinking a lot about unconditional love. I don't think it exists. Chester's love certainly isn't unconditional...it's loyal and forgiving, but it's also contigent on daily exercise, timely meals, and what Ann and I call "eye contact time"...moments of the day when we just look into his eyes and rub him gently on his head or back or butt (one of his favorite spots).
I think Ann is moving closer to deciding that Chester's quality of life is not the quality we'd like it to be. The meds just do him in. He walks in a sideways motion and has given up on lifting his leg to pee, lest he fall over, embarrassed and uncertain. From 7 in the morning until about 5 in the evening, he just wants to sleep and only occassionally goes out in the backyard to squat on his favorite spot or to get cooler water in his bowl on the back porch.
At 5, he wakes up a bit and would nudges us to take him for a walk or whines at his bowl if we're late on his feeding. He even knows when it's time for his meds, though this morning threw him with the springing forward.
He doesn't smile as much anymore though.
We went for a walk at the park this morning and though he was eager to try to keep moving forward, he was exhausted even by our extremely slow pace.
Ann cried.
I did not. I don't know why. I know I will cry when it's time. I know there are times in the day when tears well up, but this morning, when it was clear that the decision was drawing closer, I didn't cry.
Perhaps it is my way of supporting Ann, maintaining the strong position while she crumbled a bit in the sunshine reflecting off the lake.
Perhaps I haven't accepted it yet, that this little man who has been in my life for only 4 years (though in Ann's over 12), will no longer wake me up at the crack of dawn or escort me on long walks through the neighborhood in his happy cantor .
It's hard to say, but today I have no tears.
Chester doesn't either, which I guess is his daily lesson for me in living in the now.
A nap. That's in the now.
A good meal. That's in the now.
Eye contact time. That's in the now.
Sleeping next to Ann (which he is doing at this moment) that's the best now on earth.
See, there are many, many conditions when one lives in the now.
I don't mind them. It's still love to me. Pure love.
3 comments:
No tears for you yet, but plenty here.
Oh I am keeping all of you in my thoughts.
bs
You're a beautiful writer and your post had me in tears. I suppose we all struggle with end-of-life issues, be they pet or human. Frankly, I have cried more over loved animals than I care to remember. How wonderful that you are such a strong, compassionate partner. She is going to need your support in the coming weeks, months...
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