Echoes of August

The fog is clearing. I’m remembering that day more clearly now…

Therapy Dog Rin, Rin Rasmussen…my best friend and furbaby lies dead on the emergency Veterinary Hospital floor. He looks like he’s sleeping, but there is a big shaved patch on the right side of his broad and full chest, running from the top of his leg up, almost to his spine. It’s where the Veterinary Surgeon performed valiantly in emergency surgery, working to save my Rin by draining the blood that had filled the sac around his heart when the cancer growing there had suddenly ruptured; pulling his heart apart. But, each time the blood was drained, it was replaced by more blood. Rin was bleeding out. A decision had to be made; do we keep pumping coagulants into him – hoping the medication and his body would clot this huge cancer that had pulled apart his heart…? Or, do we comfort him as he slept and help him transition from his physical life and into his spiritual life. In the end, Rin’s body simply couldn’t keep up with the wound on his heart and the decision was made for us.

I sat on the linoleum floor in the exam room, folded my bare legs under me and waited.

Soon, I heard the Vet Tech say, “Mommy’s in here, sweetie…she’s right here…” and Rin’s sleepy face appeared in the doorway of the exam room.

“Hi Bubba!” I said to him, working hard to calm myself and slow my heart, thumping hard in my chest.

“Come sit with Mommy…” Rin walked to me and stood there, looking over my head at something. He kept looking over my head until I reached up to stroke his neck and encourage him to lie down. Suddenly, he looked so old, and his physical strength was waning. But he stood there until he couldn’t stand anymore and then, laid down with his head on my right thigh.

He seemed so comfortable there…

The Vet appeared in the doorway and her face was drawn with sorrow and defeat.

“I’m so sorry..” she said through her mask. "I have a German Shepherd Dog of my own..." she said, her eyes meeting mine and then looking away. "I love this breed..."

I nodded my head, trying to speak to her and desperately trying to document everything that was happening to us. We were being pulled away from each other... finally separating, after 8 years together and time itself seemed suspended.

"He was such a good boy -- when we first brought him into the surgery, he was very patient with us, and we all remarked how sweet he is." said the Vet. I remember feeling very proud of my brave boy. She continued, "I think you're making the right choice. His blood pressure is dropping and any attempts to coagulate him further just don't seem to be working for him." Her eyes were sorrowful. I felt sympathy for her, as this must be so hard for her. She had syringes of euthanization medications in her hand and she sat on the floor and then scooted across the floor to attach them to Rin's IV, but then suddenly said, "You know, let me get some long lines so I can sit further away...I don't want to get in between you two at this moment." I remember thinking, "That's so thoughtful..."

She dashed away and appeared again with very long IV lines in her hand. I was only slightly aware of her presence, as I was busy squeezing every last second from my time with Rin -- together. Every stroke of my hand, 3 seconds. Every whisper into his deeply furry ears, 5 seconds. Adjusting his head so he could lay more comfortably in my lap, 10 seconds. Time itself was measured in breaths. The Vet was speaking to me from the corner of the room, sitting away from us in the doorway of the exam room. While she was speaking, she was gently pushing poison into Rin. I remember feeling desperate; wanting to rip the lines that fed the poison out of his leg and carry him home where we could keep living our life together. But I sat still, allowing my academic brain to push back on my emotional brain..."Remember, the poison will bring peace in the end." my academic brain kept whispering to me.

I was suddenly aware that Rin's body was quiet. He had slipped out of his body so gently that I wasn't even aware of it; the rise and fall of his powerful chest was still and the air went out of the room. He was gone.

"Can I take his collar with me?" I heard myself say.

"Of course...let me help you." the Veterinarian said to me.

I smiled to myself when I struggled with Rin's collar. He'd put on a lot of weight during the pandemic, as we stayed home almost every single day, and didn't do very much walking. I brought his collar up to my face... it smelled like him. I looked down to see him in his gentle sleeping position on the floor. I studied his body to try and remember it...my eyes fell on a curly bit of fur around his right ear. Come with me, if you can... I said to Rin's soul, and I walked away. I stood in the lobby, wondering what to do next. I felt dizzy and small.

"Do I leave?" I said to the Receptionist.

"Yes...we'll take good care of Rin" she said gently

Eric was in the parking lot, pacing and crying. We held each other and while he sobbed, I felt nothing. I remember thinking, why am I not sobbing?

"I want to go home" I heard myself say.

Driving home I remember my breath coming in gasps, like an invisible fist was punching my chest every few seconds. Gasp. Gasp. Gasp. Suddenly I was home, opening the door to the empty house where Rin once reigned. His water bowl was half full, his Kong toy was nestled in his pillow where he'd stashed it for later. The silence was crushing.

I staggered upstairs wondering how I could go on without Rin. Why am I not sobbing...?

I crawled into bed and looked down at Rin's empty dog bed beside my bed. I slipped back out of bed and went to find one of Rin's stuffed toys, put Rin's collar on it and hugged it tight to my neck; it smelled like him. I closed my eyes and prayed for the relief of sleep.

I woke to the realization that Rin had died. Rin died, why am I not sobbing? I had to tell Rin's People about his death, and I took enormous consolation in their love and prayers. I lived each day. I cleaned, I worked, I breathed in and I breathed out, but the joy was gone from my life. Why am I not sobbing? I spent time each day in gratitude practice for Rin's life...for the positive energy he brought with him wherever he went; for the complete and utter fullness of his life! I fostered a dog, and worked to save him...but felt no joy. Soon, Rin found a new companion for us, working from Heaven; he'd found a special dog that can carry on his work in the Therapy Dog community and sent him to us. Norman. Norman brought the joy.

As I write this, why am I sobbing...? My foster dog is now rehomed and secure. Norman is beginning his training and really testing his boundaries, bringing memories of how naughty Rin was and how hard it is to train a puppy. I now have the time and the peace to look back to the echoes of August and remember... to remember the shock, the pain, the love.

I'm sobbing now because the fog is clearing and I am remembering the day. The ice that formed around my heart on August 16th is melting, and the run-off from the thaw is forming my tears. But tears are now replaced by covered laughter at Norman's puppy antics, remembering how Rin used to look for trouble and chew anything he could find. Life is returning to my body, energy is filling the house, and I now begin again. Rin will always be remembered and Norman will walk out in Rin's memory, forging a path for his own legacy of service to community.

I'm smiling now.

I'm running now... I hear something breaking upstairs as Norman does his best to rip up everything he can find. He's in a "Rip Up All The Toilet Paper" phase now...and with the pandemic still raging, I gotta curb that new game!