When a writer loses his dog.
What has brought on this flood of emotions, is the condition of my Pomeranian companion of 15 years. We bought her as a puppy when my construction company went under. I had to file bankruptcy, and moved what I could salvage to Florida. The emotional and financial damage from the Chapter 13 was extremely damaging to my confidence and self-esteem, but Koko helped. She hated sailing, and always wanted to get back to the air-conditioned home, and her fenced in back yard. She slept on my bed, shared my food, and was on my heels at all times. If I worked on a car, or in the garage, I don’t have to worry about her running off. She would always be in the shade of a magnolia tree, or in the grass by the big fern.
A few days ago, we took her to the vet for her shots. Koko has always been overweight, mostly my fault, and recently has lost a lot of weight, and feels like skin and bones. The vet did tests and they came back as terminal kidney disease. She has a year on the long end, now has special dog food, and gets an electrolyte IV. It makes her feel great, and she gets them once a month, at $12.00 a visit. I try not to think about this too much. I have never had kids, and my two Poms, are my kids.
Zenzi, (wolf-sable Pomeranian) is 1-1/2 years old and 8 lbs. She has always had Koko and is sad when they are apart, so I am considering a third Pom.
The Alexander family is up north. I live in East Coast Florida. I am flying up next week to see them. My parents are 84 years old, and it’s been a long time since we have conversed further than Facebook. My wife’s mother died a few years ago and her father is in assisted living, in a private home. It’s cold up there. The news said 17 deg and snow. I keep thinking about Jamaica, but I need to go up north.
(I typed this much, before I went up-north for Thanksgiving. I am now back in Florida.)
In many ways I wish I had opted for the Jamaican vacation. I bought a coat and some long sleeve shirts before I left, and a few more after arriving. Most, but not all, of the Alexander family, is surviving in the same repetitive life-style they were living fifteen years ago, with one of my sisters floundering, with help and failure so many times, that everyone has now severed their connections. Others have excelled, grown up, and created a great life. My emotions were up and down every few hours, but in general, I tried to keep my opinions to myself. The one common trait that I witnessed after being in other parts of the world so long, is that they seem to acquire gratification from criticizing and speculating on other people, unable to see themselves from outside of their colloquial mold. If I could buy each one a gift, it would be an unlimited airline ticket, with six-month layovers in the countries of their choice. It changes you.
Upon returning, Koko was looking worse. She was not eating, not drinking, her legs shook when she stood, and diarrhea and vomiting took whatever moisture remained in her fragile body. It was cold for Florida, 55-60 deg at night. Koko would go out, try to poop, get liquid, and then her legs would give out. She would lie in the back yard, in her feces, until I went out looking for her, and brought her back in the house. I blocked her doggy door and spread out a towel on the floor where she likes to sleep.
Zenzi brought her favorite toys to Koko, and laid them down beside her, and backed up to give Koko an advantage to play. After moving all of her favorite toys and getting no response from Koko, she laid on top of her toys and slept beside her.
Saturday morning, I called the Veterinarian. It’s time. Koko seemed to know what we were doing, and welcomed it. Before, she looked at me, to make it better. I could only lie in the floor with her and gently pet her. My voice seemed to soothe her and she would sleep. Now, she lays on the examination table with an IV in her leg. We petted her and talked to her as she closed her eyes and relaxed for the last time.
“I’m the human! You’re the dog!” This is often heard in my house when I think the fur-babies are taking control. Right now, I would gladly give up my authority. Zenzi is confused. She keeps looking for Koko. She comes in my office, sits by my feet, and looks up at me with tears in her eyes. “How can I explain this to her?”
She lays, all of the time, in the living room where Koko slept. Her toys are still accumulated there, and she sleeps on top of her biggest one. They used to chase each other around the coffee table, but now she barks at me until I follow her into the living room and run around the coffee table with her. (Yes, I do it.) Poms need partners. I am looking for a female puppy for her. This is a bad time of year for puppy buying with Christmas coming. She may be doing a solo-show until 2020. Affordable POM puppy? Email me! DBAlexander@cfl.rr.com
In book II of Longue Duree, Extending Life, Louis had a Pomeranian named Koko. He too, went through the above scenario, but his Koko died of bladder cancer. I’ve noticed that many things I write often come true before the book is live. Louis also became a very wealthy man… “I’m waiting!”
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