Post Wedding Blues

                My wedding was a beautiful weekend in the mountains surrounded by very good friends and family.  It was a small wedding, under forty people, in a big cabin full of love.  My wedding day was fair and bright and painted gold by the autumn sunshine. 

Golden Autumn Splendor

                Joseph and I were trying hard to keep the ceremony short and simple and devoid of emotion.  I wrote the words, Joseph proof read and came up with some points to look over, and then we rewrote the vows and called it good.  Short, simple, a little sweet.  But when it came time to say it, to speak the little words we wrote, I couldn't speak above a squeak.  I tried to harness my voice, but I just couldn't.  So much for getting in, saying I do, and getting out.  We both cried like babies. 

                We had both been looking forward to the Monday after the Sunday ceremony when we would be back in our house with our dogs and our television and our normal life again.  I knew that Monday going home that I was going to feel a little sad.  I knew this was normal, but I didn't know how sad it was about to get. 

                We came home and were greeted by two happy dogs who had stayed home with the dog sitter for the big weekend.  They both seemed so content despite one having a limping leg from being too gung ho with her walks, and the older one having a little trouble with bathroom times.  (To my lovely landlady, Hillary, please note the dogs were never allowed on carpets other than our throw rugs, and the messes that had happened were all very well contained and cleaned easily.)  Dinky, the incontinent dog, seemed fine and happy otherwise. 

Good Old Dinky

                Then Friday came and Dinky couldn't stand up by himself.  We thought it might be some joint pain we had noticed with the cold weather, so we used a towel for a sling and helped him up when he needed to go out.  Saturday, we found him very sick and in so much pain he tried to bite us when we touched his hind legs and lower abdomen, which were all starting to swell.  We began looking for veterinarians who would come to the house, because I refused to put Dinky through a vet visit in his current state.  Those visits were stressful enough for him in good health.  We found a veterinarian who was able to come to us on Monday morning at the earliest.  Sunday we kept him as comfortable as we possibly could.  He refused to mess himself, but trips outside were agonizing for him.  I was so proud of Joseph, he stayed strong. 

                Then the Vet came in with Monday’s gray, cold morning.  She was kind with a small, sweet voice.  She had big, sympathetic eyes and listened to our plight with interest and understanding.  After a brief assessment, she told us that we had a difficult choice to make.  Would we do everything for him to keep him alive despite his pain, agony, and loss of quality of life?  Or would we allow him to pass with what comfort she could provide?  The choice was easy.  Having grown up on the grandparent’s farm, where the animals lay their life down for our hunger, we all knew the responsibility we had towards these animals.  Death must come for us all: dogs, chickens, humans, horses.  But for these animals who shared their life with us, we had a responsibility to make their passing as easy and painless for them as possible.  Prolonging Dinky’s life meant prolonging his suffering for my own selfish need to keep him near me longer.  Joseph agreed wholeheartedly, and the Vet did, too.  Dinky was made very comfortable, and passed away peacefully in our arms.

A surprise!

                Joseph surprised me with Dinky when we had officially moved into the same house together.  He was a skittish ball of black fur and big eyes.  We had him before we had celebrated our first anniversary.  He was a part of our lives from the very beginning.  Joseph and I haven’t known life together without Dinky in it.  And the old guy had made it through our wedding weekend without giving away how very sick he was becoming.  He greeted us back home with a wag of his tale, always politely waiting for us to come to pet him.  My Dinky, the Wolf of Tacoma, has passed away and my home just doesn't feel the same. 

Dinky, the Wolf of Tacoma

                I’m sorry for such a sad blog.  I promise to write more about the little wedding details that made our big day so fantastic.  But for now, I wanted to express my loss.  Life moves on, whether we will or not.