Monday, April 14, 2008

Psalm 23 & The Byrds & Whatnot

So... Wolfie has bone cancer and we have to put her down. She's been limping along on pain killers/anti-inflammatories for the last two months, but she's ready to go and it is time. I'm faced with the oddity of (1) scheduled death and (2) making arrangements for a dog. Or should I say, The dog. And Thursday is The Day.

The Hubbins and I have talked about The Day on and off for the last two months. When to do it, how to do it, etc. He asked whether I thought about cremation for the Woof. I thought it was a rather odd concept. Too anthropomorphizing, maybe. And what would we do with the ashes? Keep them in an exalted place in our home and think of our beloved Woofster whenever we passed them?

I say, "I thought about maybe donating her body for research." This is not rejected, but the Hubbins suggests that we can spread her ashes somewhere. I suggest the kitchen floor, which is where Wolfie has taken the greatest pleasure in spreading things out -- like the garbage she knocks over on a daily basis. She would want it that way.

The Girls accuse us of plotting to murder the dog, but they are coming around. They see her limping. They see that she has not put weight on her tumorous leg for several days.

We have an appointment for Thursday morning. The vet gave us three options. We can take her body back, cremate her, or cremate her and get the ashes back. We're taking the third option.

I wonder about option 1 -- and this one made me laugh. What the hell do you do with a dog carcass? Does the pet mortician come around back with the puppy hearse for a pick up? Do you just walk out of the vet's with the earthly husk of fido and chuck him in the trunk? Or do they come vacuum packed in plastic and formaldehyde like lab animals?

When Goldy died, I was cognizant of it but too young to be emotional about it. I remember Maria cried a lot, and I tried to because I felt I should. But I didn't understand the finality of it. Anyway, she spent one day yacking in the front yard. The vet announced that she had a ruptured spleen, and she was put down that day. Mom left with an injured dog and came home without a dog and that was it.

Wolfie: Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord.