My Dog

My dog will not grow old.

It sucks.

I'd like to ignore this inevitability, but I need to say it for several reasons.

First, there is still a part of my brain that believes in the Fates and if I imagine a future with certainty, they will mess with it for spite. Maybe if I am convinced that Cassie will not grow old, then they will turn her into a crotchety old dog just to prove me wrong. It's weird the superstitions we pull out to try and dodge death.

Second, I need to figure out a way to deal with my dog's cancer that doesn't involve bursting into tears every time I talk about it. She's not dying, which is what makes it kind of awkward. Who knew dogs could get cancer in their toes and that it is a cancer primarily found in black dogs and poodles?

Here's what really sucks. We had the two affected toes amputated, but there's a good chance she'll get it again. There's only so many toes you can cut off before a dog loses some serious quality of life. She won't probably die from the cancer; we will have to choose to euthanize her when we run out of toes. That's messed up.

Third, many people, let alone dogs, live in this challenging place of knowing they have 1-3 years. So what do we do when days are numbered?

I don't know.

But, here's what I've observed about my coping:

Not doing;
There's no talk of bucket lists or making the most out of the days left. I'm not a believer in bucket lists; they seem like another consumer driven agenda to devour experiences until we are gorged and pretend it's living life to its fullest.

Facing mortality isn't about a list of "want to dos" as much as a choice everyday between showing up to life or being numb. I try to show up and be open to what adventures may come. I'd argue there's less regrets that way.

Cassie and I have had tremendous adventures. We've enjoyed our time on the trails and  I'd confess there was more than once we both uttered "Oh shit" in unison. She's a pretty smart dog and we got ourselves into some messes, but they reminded us to stay alive while we're living.

Doing:
We've relaxed a lot of rules. Cassie is welcome to jump on all the furniture she wants, ride in the front seat of the car, and sprawl across the kitchen floor. We give her tons of treats and table scraps. There's no use in sustaining good discipline when you have such a short time. It doesn't mean going completely wild, but reassessing what is important.

We tell her she is loved and rub her belly lots. This is awkward with people, but you get the point. I've never had anyone regret living with too much love (or belly rubs).