The first thing that has been weighing heavily on my mind is the whole subject of euthanasia . . . On a happy note, I received the most beautiful condolence note from one of the gals we met at water therapy. After her dog had surgery, she had brought him to the same place, Aqua Dog, where Lucky and I were going and we hit it off immediately. Her note touched me deeply and made me realize that Lucky was having a positive impact on people, even when we didn't know it.
Her note said:
I am sad to hear of Lucky's crossing over. I know there is nothing I can say to ease your pain but I want you to know that Lucky had a big impact on me. I was always amazed at how happy she looked even though she had physical limitations. I had always thought that once a dog couldn't walk easily on their own, the "humane" thing to do was to have them put down. That opinion changed when I meet Lucky. The first time I saw her in the water, her eyes so bright and full of life, I realized that I had been wrong. I remember calling my sister that night and telling her about Lucky.
It reminded me of a conversation I had a month or so ago. I was talking to someone about how last May, Lucky lost all bladder control for several days. It was a scary time and I thought maybe the end was coming, that her body was giving out on her. Many people suggested "it was time" but miraculously she regained bladder control again and it was a non-issue for us until last month when it happened again for a few days, and then miraculously once again, she got her bladder control back. I was telling this person how glad I was that I waited it out, that I didn't succumb to the euthanasia pressure because I would have missed out on five more months with my sweet girl. The person got really quiet for a few minutes and then told me that they had put his dog down earlier this year when he lost bladder control. I could see the wheels spinning in his head, wondering if maybe they had acted too quickly, wondering if his dog's bladder control would have resumed the way Lucky's did. There is no way we'll ever know, but it does make me think that in some cases, we're too quick to "end an animal's suffering."
Just this week, one of my clients called . . . she was very upset after a visit with her vet. Her cat had thrown up a couple of times and she brought her to the vet to find out what was going on. Her labs all came back fine, no signs of any problems, but when they did an ultrasound, they saw a mass in her stomach. The vet's recommendation was immediate euthanasia. Fortunately, my client didn't take his advice, knowing she needed time to figure out what her cat wanted, to figure out what she wanted. I was shocked by how quickly the vet went there. My personal opinion is that vets often go there too quickly. While I am sure there are plenty of vets who don't, there are many who do and I wish it wasn't the case. I don't know what lies ahead for this particular cat but at the moment, she is doing well and I know she is happy that her mom is listening to her more than she is listening to the vet.
The question of euthanasia came up quite a few times, especially in our last six months together. People would say, "Do you think it's time?" and I would always say "No" with a little confusion in my voice, because the thought hadn't even crossed my mind. I knew Lucky wasn't giving up yet and as long as she was still willing to try, then so was I. Lucky and I just seemed to face each new challenge we were presented with and we would figure out how to make things work, whether it was using the sling, covering the floor with towels, me wearing shorts and flip-flops, using the wagon or whatever else we came up with to manage our new definition of "normal." The brightness in her eyes, her voracious appetite, her excitement when we would see the children at the park . . . those things all told me "it wasn't time" regardless of how her ability to move on her own had been diminished.
Yet, it was something that I still grappled with from time to time, wondering if I was blinded by my love for Lucky and not seeing things as they really were. I worked hard at being as honest with myself as possible about Lucky's condition and as a back-up, I asked one of my best friends to speak up if he ever thought I was over-looking the truth. (He never did) :-)
I remember the holistic vet that Lucky and I used to see would always say, "You know it's time to euthanize when the animal is suffering too much, or the human is." That statement made a lot of sense to me and at the same time, it filled me with more questions. Mostly I would wonder "How do we define suffering?" I was always more concerned about Lucky suffering, rather than myself, although there were some moments in our final week where I wasn't sure I could keep doing what we were doing and I understood in those moments what he meant a little more.
I remember in our final week together, when I was getting scared that I wasn't doing the right thing by letting Lucky pass on her own, I kept getting on the internet, trying to find information on the subject. No matter how many searches I did, I couldn't seem to come up with information that defined how you know when your animal is suffering. I also couldn't find information on what a "natural death" was like . . . nothing that could tell me what the normal signs of dying were and when it moved into the realm of "suffering."
I realized that I had never seen an animal die a natural death, so I had no idea what to expect. All the dogs we had when I was growing up were euthanized. I am not second-guessing my parents decision, as they felt each of the dogs we had reached a point of "suffering" but I still didn't know what it truly meant to be "suffering."
Most of the information I found about euthansia said, "It's a very personal decision" which I agree with, but again, they didn't explain how you know. Many people say, "You'll know when it's time, you'll see it in your animal's eyes" and still, that's not a clear cut explanation. I realized, especially in me and Lucky's final week together, that there really is a lack of information on the subject.
The philosophical discussions I was having with the friends who spent time with Lucky and I on our second to last day together centered on this subject. We talked about how in many ways we are sheltered from death. People don't want to talk about it, they don't want to experience someone else's death . . . we tend to fear it. I think we often assume it will be far worse than anything we can imagine . . . and yet, death is as natural as birth. It is something we will all do. We are all born and we all die, there is no getting out of it. So, it left me with the question, "Why are we so afraid of it?"
One of my friends pointed out that birth isn't "pain-free" either, so why do we expect death to be "pain-free"? That made sense to me. It seemed logical that there may be some discomfort as we get ready to leave our bodies. But where is the line? What is a normal amount of pain or discomfort? and when is it an abnormal amount of pain that tells you that you should step in and do something to end the pain?
During that one particular night, when my mind was swirling around, I kept thinking about the similarities between birth and death. I was trying to honor Lucky's desire to have a "natural death" and yet there were moments where I was afraid of it, afraid it would be too much for her or too much for me. I thought about women who opted for a "natural birth" . . . and I wondered how many of them at some point said, "The pain is too much, give me an epidural!" (or wished they could say that.) And I thought about a friend of mine who wanted to have a natural birth but after many, many hours of labor and some concern about her baby, she was forced to have a C-section. It was very difficult for her to make her peace with it, as she was so disappointed that she had gone so far with her labor, and she wanted to see it through, but she also didn't want anything to happen to her baby.
In the moments I considered breaking down and calling a vet to help her out of her body, what would stop me was the thought . . . . what if she was close to doing it on her own and I stepped in at the last minute and took that away from her. It reminded me of a quote I read once that said something like, "If you knew how many people gave up minutes before finally achieving their goal, you'd think twice about giving up."
I wish I could say I had figured it all out and could offer some keen insights into this topic. Unfortunately, I have all these questions and not very many answers. Maybe in time I will learn more and things will become more clear. At the very least, I can say from my own experience that I am glad I didn't step in and have Lucky euthanized. In many ways, the experience of being present with her through her death was as much of an honor as it was to be present throughout her life. It was my final gift to her and her final gift to me and I will treasure that memory as much as every other memory we created together.
I'm not saying that people who euthanize their pets are wrong because I really do believe it is a very personal decision, one between an animal and their guardian and only they know what is best in their particular circumstance. I just wish that we were less afraid of death in general, whether it is humans or animals. I wish we could embrace it for the natural part of our experience here on earth that it is. And I wish we had more information available to us about what to expect, and what is a "normal" part of the dying process vs. what is "suffering" so we could feel better equipped to deal with these decisions when we are faced with them. I think if we could be more opened about death, if we could de-mystify it, we could all be less afraid of it. I know from my experience with Lucky, I don't want to be afraid of death. I want to embrace it and honor it and be at peace with it.
Onto my next "unrelated-topic," many people have inquired this week about Lucky's middle name . . . not knowing she ever had one and wondering how it came to be. I thought I'd share the story in case any of you are interested.
It all started a few years ago, when all the kids Lucky befriended at the park were always asking me questions about Lucky. They always wanted to know things such as: What time she went to bed, What her favorite food was, Did she ever have play-dates at her house, Did she ever get "time-outs" and What her middle name was. They were always pleased with all my answers, except the middle name question. Time after time, the kids who inquired would express concern that Lucky didn't have a middle name like they did.
One day, I asked the group of kids that were playing with Lucky what they thought her middle name should be. They came up with several options, and week after week, they would continue to quiz the other children that came to play with Lucky, asking what they thought her middle name should be. They came up with a list of possible names such as: Rose, Sky, Charm, Star, Penny, Flower, Cloud, etc. After a couple months of hearing all the options, I finally picked Rose and Lucky officially became "Lucky Rose." The kids were all thrilled that Lucky finally had a middle name and when she met new kids who would ask what her middle name was, I was happy I finally had an answer for them.
And for my third unrelated topic, there is something about the subdudes that is tied into Lucky's final chapter that I feel compelled to share. Back in July, one of my friends in the band told me that he was going to send me an advanced copy of the CD that was going to be released the first week of September. I was very excited about the idea of getting to hear the CD before the masses did and began eagerly checking my mailbox. Several times in August, he called and said, "I'm really sorry, Maureen, I didn't get a chance to get to the post office before we hit the road again." I wasn't concerned, I knew I would get the new CD eventually, and once that leg of their tour was over, I would go back to eagerly checking my mailbox.
But at the beginning of September, I had a premonition . . . in this premonition, I saw myself listening to the new CD as I was grieving Lucky's passing, and I knew I would get the CD the day she passed, or the day after. As you can imagine, it made me much less excited about receiving the copy of the new CD. I found myself going to the mailbox with trepidation, for fear that the CD would be there, and if my premonition was true, it would mean Lucky would pass that day or the next. I didn't want the CD to arrive.
I never told anyone, hoping my premonition was wrong . . . and four days before Lucky made her transition, the subdudes arrived in California. My friend called to check on us and then mentioned that he was very sorry he never got the CD in the mail, but that he would give it to me in person at the show at Moe's Alley. At the time, I was so consumed with what was going on with Lucky, I didn't even think about my premonition.
As you know from my post last week, Lucky passed on the 15th and on the 16th, I went to see the band play, and it was at that time that I received my copy of their new CD, Flower Petals. And just as I had seen in my vision . . . I spent the days after Lucky passed listening to the new CD, as I worked through my grief.
The first couple times I played it, I just listened to the music as a whole and eventually, I began to pay more attention to individual songs and their lyrics. One song in particular made the hair stand up on my arms, a song called Wedding Rites. I know based on the title, it wouldn't seem like a song about Lucky and I, given that we weren't married. :-) But the lyrics, if I changed one word (from lover to Lucky) fit us like a tee.
When I was a little girl, I knew I was going to have a German Shepherd. It was one of my most vivid memories from childhood, this "knowing" I had . . . there was no question in my mind, I was supposed to have a German Shepherd.
When I first saw Lucky on TV, I had that "knowing"again - I knew she was the one I was supposed to be with. When I won the lottery and went to meet her for the first time, I heard myself say over and over again, "It's me, It's me!" I never knew where those words came from or why I said them. I just had this overwhelming feeling that we were seeing each other again after a very long time. It made me wonder if Lucky and I didn't make some pact in the spirit world, agreeing that we would come together here on earth to help each other heal.
So, as I sat on the floor, listening to "Wedding Rites" with the liner notes in my hand, tears streamed down my face, I realized that once again, the subdudes and their music had touched me in a way that confirms their place as my most favorite band in the whole world.
partial Wedding Rites lyrics:
"Well, I don't know what to believe about past or future life
But I do believe in a love before first sight
'Cause Lucky (lover), when I saw you, saw you for the first time
I was amazed, I was so pleased to find
I already knew you, before I even met you
I already felt you, before I ever held you
Like two streams that flow from the very same source
We're together again, let the river run it's course
We're together, let the river run it's course."
The river did run it's course with us and I feel so blessed that we had the opportunity to be together again, to do what I believe we had agreed to do for one another. My heart still aches in moments . . . and in other moments, I am filled with gratitude for the opportunity I had . . . to love and be loved . . . as completely and honestly and purely and sweetly as I did. I will love my sweet girl forever . . . my Lucky Rose.
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