Last year, my fourteen year old dog stopped going potty in the grass. He just stopped. Like how I use technical terms like "potty"? He went on the sidewalk, on the porch, in the middle of the patio and all over the driveway because he didn't want to put his great big wookie paws in the grass anymore. The path to the back door suddenly became a defecated mine field. It was aggravating, but hey, he was old and at least he wasn't going in the house.
One night that changed. It was New Year's Eve 2004 and I had the extraordinary luck to be IM'ng with Terry Rossio. Yup. Really. I had thought he was someone else but when I read his profile which said Terry Rossio I asked him, "are you Terry Rossio?" He said he was and I promptly demanded to know what he was doing home alone on New Years Eve. Then it happened.
My dog decided he liked my expensive wood floor better than the pavement. Fourteen years and suddenly when I have an opportunity to talk to my favorite screenwriter the dog goes on my floor? I knew this was a signal that the dog was getting senile and my time with him was limited. Oh, and with Terry Rossio too because he was gone when I got back from cleaning up dog pee.
Even though I went through this with my other Cocker Spaniel twelve years ago and even though I know it's the merciful thing to do for the ol' guy, making the decision to end my dog's life was no easier than the first time. Once in a lifetime is too much. Twice is unbearable. So, I put it off and his symptoms of dementia and deterioration went on for months.
First his hearing went. Well, a dog can still live a decent life with no hearing. Before long, his eyesight went but he could still find his way in and out the back door (to potty everywhere but the grass) and he could still find his food. Then, it got weird.
He began to growl at imaginary intruders and was particularly indignant over the Glade plugins. They really chapped him. But, he was a perfectly healthy blind, deaf, senile dog living a comfortable life. He climbed in and out of his favorite chair and still barked when he smelled a stranger in the house...well, ten or fifteen minutes after he smelled a stranger in the house.
Then this past Friday night, something happened. He abruptly yelped and began walking in a circle. He walked and walked in a circle until he dizzied himself and his hind legs caved beneath him. We loaded him in the car and took him to an all night vet. By the time we got there, he was fine. Whew! Close call. But the next night, he did it again.
This time, he couldn't stop. All night and all the next day, this little dog walked in circles and yelped in pain. He didn't stop to potty, eat or drink. I kept thinking that any minute, he'd be fine again just like he had been before but he just kept walking and barking until he fell down with exhaustion. I had no choice. I felt like a monster for waiting so long. Today, I held him in my arms and kissed him goodbye on his fuzzy face as the doctor put a needle in his leg.
I marvel that my heart can endure such pain and continue to beat. It has every time I've lost friends and family to disease, war, accidents, and the malice of others. Millions of hearts continue to beat every day while suffering unimaginable grief. Why would mine be any different? The human heart is an enigma.
Every day people agonize over whether to end life support, assist a suicide, or accept painful treatment. And yet, these hearts manage to survive those decisions. How many couples do I know who have divorced this past year and how many of them were caused by infidelity? What heartache they must have experienced! Love, pain, grief, joy, disappointment, anger, bitterness, resentment... the heart endures it all.
The remedy to these heart conditions is to have no heart at all. We've all met people we think are heartless and yet, biology tells us they must have a physical heart even if they don't demonstrate the human conditions that we attribute to the heart. A heartless person could matter-of-factly endure the death of a pet or even a family member because that heart hadn't felt the emotional attachment that, when severed by death, results in a sort of heart attack.
There are only two choices available to us. Be a person of heart with all the accompanying ranges of human emotion or live life as a tautological exercise. I'm reminded of a statement by the Tin Woodsman in The Wizard of Oz. The line is in L. Frank Baum's book, although I am not sure about the film. The wizard warns him that a heart causes great unhappiness. The Tin Woodsman replies, "I will bear all the unhappiness without a murmur if you will only give me a heart."
Though I, too, prefer to have a heart and willingly bear the unhappiness, I have a blog to murmer on.
No comments:
Post a Comment