Where are we sweet Gus, I
can’t quite see where we are,
are you frightened,
confused?
Are you hurting, queasy,
in pain?
It can’t be easy to be you,
right now, with your dread
chronic disease,
hanging like a cloud,
over your sun.
I see you throwing back your food all day,
I know you are losing weight
I see you wincing and gulping,
and shaking your head, and blinking,
and shrinking..
They say there is no cure,
you are not absorbing your food,
you cannot digest it.
We are running out of things to try,
it seems we’ve tried everything,
we are looking for hope.
I write books about things like this,
study it, think about it,
but when you’re in it,
it’s so different.
I am humbled and brought up short,
humility is an unwanted gift sometimes,
i don’t know where we are, and I almost
always know where I am these days.
Every one tells me I love you so much,
maybe so, but I think of you now, not me.
I will be fine, I know what’s happening,
I can take care of myself.
But this isn’t really about me.
I am out of trucks, and hopeful exclamations,
life is life, and we either bow to it,
or fall down in front of it.
I don’t know how to deal with you,
I don’t know where we are,
where you are,
where you need to be,
where I need to be.
I spent the morning with you on my knees,
with paper towels and odor sprays and
disinfectant, and awful smells and bile.
The dread megaesophagus,
the call it.
You seem sluggish to me,
then playful,
then loving,
then tiring, moving inward, trying to shake off
what’s happening inside of you.
I know that look,
I hate that look, it is a dagger in the heart.
Where are we, Gus?, let’s sit down together,
and have a conversation today,
just between us and Maria,
who loves you so much,
not the world or the doctors,
or the Internet, your friends
and admirers.
Maybe I can find us,
maybe I can see where we are.
I know how hard this is when it is unclear what is best for the dog. We have an elderly terrier who has good days and bad days and good nights and bad nights.
Nothing to say here. Just love
Tears for gus and for you and Maria. I understand when you say “I know that look” It is indeed a dagger in the heart. Acceptance is the most difficult thing at times.
thinking of Fate…sensing his best friend is not feeling well…the close bond they share.
just wanted to say that my heart aches for all of you.
so very happy that Gus came to be where he was meant to be. a member of your family and best buddys with Fate. thinking of him on the donkeys back makes me smile.
hoping he makes a turn for the better. Spring is almost here. seeing him an Fate making the most of every minute in the yard and fields.
I wish I could kiss him on the nose.
I wish you and Maria strength and clarity as you have your conversation with Gus. There is no right or wrong choice here. This is YOUR decision and only yours. I admire your courage for being so open about this process – something that is very difficult in this age of everyone having an opinion about everything, especially when it comes to the health and well-being of a much loved dog.
Please hang in there,Little Gus. hope this disease does not ravage you too much. I hope you can play and be loved and find healing . You certainly have the most ultimate care. ……Blessings to you, Little One
This is so heartbreaking. Losing a beloved pet is one of the hardest losses weever have. Hardest yet is when It is their humans decision. Bless you and Maria to do the right thing and bless Sweet Gus.
Heart wrenching. I am so sorry.