I woke up too early at 6.30am or so. When I get
tired and run down my adrenals get knackered so I run on febrile and unsustainable
energy. When that runs out I feel shattered and either keep going or go and lie
down. But true rest evades me.
Until Nutty’s diagnosis I was feeling quite good,
rested and relaxed. The night before last I was so exhausted I was out like a
light waking up exactly 8 hours later, but I still felt exhausted. Should try
to get to bed before 11.30pm but we are not managing that.
People’s reactions are hurtful too. My grief is hard
to explain to a non-dog lover. But the truth is that the thought of losing
Nutty is far, far worse than when my mother died. But as Nutty was her dog
people have suggested that my grief is tied up with losing her. I didn’t grieve
so much when she died, maybe I am doing
it now, three years later, through her dog?
I had a good session with my cranial osteopath. He
is a lovely man and good in a crisis. Because he is so sympathetic as soon as he meets me in reception and
asks how I am, my eyes and throat just well up. In his room I start to sob and
explain how desperate I feel. Cranial work is very effective calming down the
nerves. After the session, which did soothe me, he said, `I don’t know if I
should share this with you – the last time I felt this with someone they turned
out to be pregnant’ (why he says this as a prelude to something really quite
gentle I don’t know) `but’, he continued, `I felt a real expansion when I was
working on your temples. A real blossoming …there is a great feeling of joy coming out. The sense that through
this experience something really wonderful will happen’.
`Although I could tell you are going through trauma,
there is an underlying strength and vitality. Don’t underestimate yourself.’
I was happy to hear this, it made me feel there was
a chink of brightness at the end of this terrible long dark tunnel. I confided
that I thought about ending it all, wanting the relief of cutting short my life as the
pain is just so intense. He explained that I would not be ending pain, but
creating more pain to those I leave behind. I know Boyfriend on a Short Fuse would
be distraught, it would probably ruin his life. But everyone else… well I
expect they would get over it soon enough (although perhaps Teflon-dad might be
moved to take a day off work).
I must stay strong. So much to do, so much joy,
still, to experience, I hope.
Before I left for the osteopath I was running a bit
late because I wanted to give Nutty his homeopathic pill. I couldn’t find it as
the flat is a mess, reflecting my messy, anxious brain. So I was running round
like a headless chicken, thinking, if I can give him his pill he will get
better, if I can’t find it he will get worse… but eventually I found the pills and
left the flat.
I feel so despairing as his cancer is pushing out of
the side of his mouth. For the first time I can see it when his mouth is shut.
I chant every day for the beastly lump to disappear. Out damned spot!
When Boyfriend on a Short Fuse is being kind I can
cope but when he starts up it is so much harder.
Tonight he exploded because I had filled up the dogs water bowls to full
(and they were side by side as I hadn’t got round to taking one out to the
hall).
`WHY CAN’T YOU BE MORE PRACTICAL!!’ he screamed.
`I’m sorry!’ I shouted, `I can’t be perfect!’
He went on and on and eventually I threw a cup of Nuttys’
peroxide cleaning mix over his shirt. Stupid bastard. He went upstairs and I
prayed oh please don’t leave, don’t leave, I am too tired to take the dogs out
myself! And I hate it when he storms out anyway.
But he was just changing his shirt and had calmed
down. That’s the thing about him, he is quickly enraged but calms down quickly.
Whereas when slighted I will hold on to the grudge …. forever! I hate the rows
because although Nutty is deaf he can pick up on the atmosphere and I hate to
have him stressed.
When things had calmed down, I took Nutty up to the
bath, got out a luxurious shampoo sample I had been saving for him and gave him
a good wash and condition. I paid particular attention to his jaw which is dark
and encrusted with blood where his cancerous abscess is weeping.
When I had finished I lifted him out of the bath,
aching with fear and tenderness as he is so light. It is so pitiful. He is so
thin when his fluffy surround of tawny fur is flat and wet. He just allows me
to do anything to him, patiently waiting while he is washed, just trusting that
his mummy has his welfare at heart.
I towel dried him and he was so happy to be clean
(and relieved the ordeal is over!) He dashed around like a young pup, nearly
knocking over the phone and computer as he ran under the table and around the
room! Then he started barking with joy. The tinies (our two bichon frises) ran
up to see what the commotion was about and got excited too. These moments are
such a joy, such pure happiness. That is why I have started to chronicle each
experience so I will never forget the happiness he brings me every moment we
are together.
I called my Buddhist friend, T, today for a chat.
Talking to her calmed me and lifted my spirits so much. She is a very pure-hearted
person and talked a long time about how she’s benefitted from being grateful,
the importance of enjoying every moment with Nutty and the eternity of life.
That I could determine to be with Nutty again in my next life. I want to be
with him again in this life. Perhaps in a few years I will come across a pup
and we will recreate our bond. She explained how she changed and became more
empathetic after the heartbreak of losing her father.
Later I watched a programme about the poor in
America. Today’s recession is as bad as the Great Depression apparently. The worst
thing for me was an impoverished family giving up one of their two dogs. How
could they do this? Leaving the poor dog behind at the shelter as it howled for
them. I do think people have hearts of stone I really do. I’d as soon live in
my car with my dogs than live without them. If they would not give up one of
their children, how could they give up their dog? This sort of thing floors me.
The other mystery is why people who run shelters have to always keep the dogs
separated? Some dogs may be aggressive but the majority are not. Old pictures
of Battersea Dogs Home show that all the dogs romed around together. But people
these days are obsessed with admin and bureaucracy to the extent of all else.
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