Waiting For You To Live

Portrait of Pepsi and Mom commission for us by our dear friend Karen Anderson

Dear Pepsi,

It has ben a while since I wrote to you in this blog. I have been pretty exhausted with the frequent highs and lows, and as of the past week you have slowed down and become much more fragile. You had two serious bleeds last week, and after that you lost a lot of your spunk. You move slowly and often seemed disorientated. You don't entice Pearl to play or bring me your rope toy. I wish I knew what you are thinking and feeling. Last night was rough - you vomited so fiercely I thought I was loosing you then and there. I slept beside you in the bathroom, listening to your labored breathing. It was the first time you vomited, and we were both freaked out. Since then you have refused food; however you are drinking water and urinating, which is a good sign. Rena was here for a week, and she bought you a new pink fleece coat for our shortened walks, which is so you and diva like. You still enjoy people, wagging your tail and greeting friends and strangers, perking up when we go to the beach or the vet, even barking for treats so loud the doctors can hear you in the exam rooms.   

Pepsi looking at her reflection in the glass - admiring her new pink fleece coat. 

I am wracking my brain trying to know what is the best thing to do for you. I spend all my time with you other than when I am teaching. It is almost impossible for me to be here alone and still function at a basic level, which is really only leaving the house to go to class. After Dad left, we managed until Rena came. We had a nice quiet Thanksgiving, just Rena, Pearl, Pandy, Rena's doggie Picasso, you and me. We went to the beach several times, and one day you actually chased the ball and went into the water. The weekend after last, before your bleeds, it was so warm you romped in the water like always, as if nothing had changed. That's what makes this so confounding. However, since last week, I can see how tired you are. We went to see Dr. Stuer yesterday and he confirmed you are weaker overall, though after acupuncture you seemed visibly better. She's not ready to go yet he said, if she were I would tell you. I keep looking into your eyes, hoping you will make it clear but every time I think I know, I feel more and more perplexed. Several times a day I am ready to throw in the towel and then you light up, wag your tail, and show me it is not quite time yet. I only want what is best for you; however the thought of loosing you feels too much to bear.

Rena, Mom and Pepsi at Higgins Beach

I know the time for you to leave me is drawing near. Sometimes I bury my face into your coat of blonde fur and weep. I whisper how much I love you as I hold you close. Since October 20th, nearly 6 weeks ago, my life has revolved around you. Your cancer has reframed my perspective and existence. I have eliminated all but the essential, which turns out to be quite a bit. While some may think I am waiting for you to die, I see it as the opposite, I am living each moment with you as deeply as possible. I choose to think of it as waiting for you to live.  I wake up every day hoping you are still breathing, wagging your tail, and ready for a beach romp. Dr. Stuer asked me if I had any regrets, and without hesitation I said no, I am just tired. We both are, you especially. If you can hang in until Dad gets here Monday, that would be great, or even Saturday when Rena returns; however, it really is your call. No amount if time will ever be enough, even if you lived another five years.  I admit I am clinging but I can't get enough of you my girl. In the midst of all this sadness we have been showered with concern from our friends as well as strangers. Karen commissioned a portrait of us that captures the essence of our love. People are sending prayers and love from near and far, and we find ourselves in warm and caring conversations, particularly at Higgins Beach with other pet parents. I cry easily, and people are so kind to me. Today we met a woman who moved back home to care for her mother who has terminal cancer. She stroked you lovingly as she told her story. Another woman with a senior dog who we met during our last visit to Higgins joined us. She said she was thinking of us earlier that morning, and was so happy to find us on the beach. You attract love wherever you go Pepsi girl. 

Rapture at Higgins beach

I know it is not long now. Things are changing fast. You seem to be transitioning between worlds. gazing into space, seemingly confused but maybe not, perhaps you have already elevated to a place beyond my reach. I can't keep you here beyond your destiny but every day I am waiting for you to live. Until you can't.

Love you forever,

Mom