June 30, 2023

My heart is broken. Today we said goodbye to our Chance. Unbeknownst to us, he had a tumor on his spleen, and at some point today, it ruptured. This afternoon, when I got home, he didn’t greet me as he normally would. Instead he walked upstairs slowly and barely raised his head. We thought maybe he had gotten into something, so we checked the house and yard. Then we called the vet, but couldn’t get him in. They suggested taking him to the emergency clinic when it opened.

While waiting, we curled up together and tried to nap, but he seemed uncomfortable. Then he didn’t want his dinner. Or any treats, so we knew something was wrong. We speculated on the way to the clinic that maybe he had a urinary tract infection. We weren’t prepared when the doctor came in and said it wasn’t good. He was bleeding internally. She saw the tumor on his spleen. We authorized her to check his chest for other tumors that would tell us if the cancer had spread. There were small spots on his lungs, but it wasn’t obvious if they were tumors.

We spent the next several hours agonizing over whether to do surgery on the slim chance it wasn’t malignant. If it was, it might buy us a few months, but it would come back. We debated on which path was better for him. Which path seemed less selfish for us. We cried. A lot. We asked them to do bloodwork, hoping for an indication of which path to take. It told us nothing. And the whole time, we sat with him and told him over and over and over again what a good boy he was. Because he was the best.

Chance was my first puppy love. The first dog I adopted and the first I really bonded with. I still can’t wrap my mind around the fact that yesterday he was perfect and today he is gone. I don’t know how to go about my day without him. It’s going to take some time to adjust.

But I’m thankful he wasn’t in pain. I’m grateful that the doctor, seeing our struggle, helped us come to a decision. She said, as much as she always wants to treat, she wouldn’t put her own pet through the surgery. She’s seen too few survive for long afterwards. She, too, started to cry as she said it. And I’m thankful the ending was quick, while he lay by us and we told him we loved him.

I’ll forever be thankful I had my Chance. What joy he brought us. What unconditional love we had for nine years.

August 11

I admit, I was really shocked when I heard of Robin Williams’ death today. And saddened more than I thought possible. After all, I didn’t know him personally. I’m also not someone who normally follows celebrity news carefully. So I was surprised to find myself in tears over his loss. But then again, he had been an actor since I was a small child. He’d been around in movies for pretty much all of my life. Hearing about his death today felt a little bit like losing an uncle I didn’t get to see that often. In his memory, I rented and watched one of my favorite films What Dreams May Come. And I’ve been thinking about what his death means to me. And why I feel so affected. I think the key is simply to look at some of the characters he’s played over the years: Dr. Sean Maguire in Good Will Hunting, John Keating in Dead Poet’s Society, Chris in What Dreams May Come, Daniel in Mrs. Doubtfire, Adrian in Good Morning Vietnam, Peter Pan in Hook, Alan in Jumanji, Armand in The Birdcage, Hunter Adams in Patch Adams…The bulk of his characters were inspirational. Characters who were compassionate, often struggling with their own issues but trying to help others overcome theirs as well. Because Robin Williams was such a great actor, it was easy to believe that he was just like his characters, which makes his loss to apparent suicide seem so much more tragic. He’s supposed to overcome. He’s the guy who’s always searching for the answers and fighting the good fight. How could he have found himself no longer able to?

I posted back in June about a friend of mine who had committed suicide and how much it affected me. My disbelief now is not as great as it was then, of course, but it’s familiar. When I hear of anyone’s death from suicide I immediately think of all the wonderful things they’re missing out on. However, that’s my view and I know that and I’m thankful that it’s my default. It helps me personally when I’m struggling. But there’s a line in What Dreams May Come that seems poignant What’s true in our minds is true, whether other people know it or not. We can’t always tell what struggles people are going through, and even if we did, we may not understand them anyway. Not all of our demons are the same. But there are many people living with depression or anxiety or any other illness that becomes a daily struggle. We may not be able to see it. Robin Williams is a perfect example, a man who always seemed so full of energy and laughter on the outside. While I’m sad to hear of his battles with depression and his death today, I’m thankful we were blessed with his talent. I wish his family peace tonight.

April 10

It’s been a really tough week. A week of endings. It’s hard to feel grateful when the heart aches. I find myself losing words. This is the time I usually turn to writing poetry because for some reason, it helps me focus my feelings. I am thankful I have that catharsis.

molten lament
unapparent in words
deliberate
so maybe wasn’t an option

sometimes love only goes one way

an ending too bright
too startling in its clarity
one infinite flash
fades to shadow
unrevealing

my masochist lingers there aching
for answers
already lies
best to untangle and float
through unthinking

now heart paste smeared
on paper for him to see
how thick my pain is