As you can see, and once again, another season has passed (two actually) and I’m far behind, not only in writing, but other things. Spring is a blur and summer never showed up until late September/ early October, gracing us for an entire week and part of that week we were in Florida …..where it literally rained. Because we didn’t have enough of that this summer here in Maine.
At 3am. this morning, I could see the fog encasing the fields, but overhead, the sky was just as clear. Every star shown, and the waning crescent moon hadn’t even come over the horizon yet. I thought how neat it is to see both the moon and sun rise, hours apart. I stood there for a few minutes, taking in the cool morning air, observing the constellations. I told myself that today was going to be better. I was convincing myself that today WAS going to be better.
When the sun finally came up, I knew it would be.
August 16th, the day before our daughters 24th birthday, our 12-year-old Saint Bernard/ Newfoundland, Willa, was playing with Scout, our almost 4-month-old basset hound. When Scout first joined our family, Willas’ initial thought was most definitely, “What the hell, Mum?” I could see it on her face. Within a short period, she fell in love with this long eared pesky creature. One evening during their regular playing session, Willa’s breathing became very labored. But to her, it didn’t matter, she was going to continue playing with her little puppy. Her breathing worsened within minutes. The smile across her face was breaking my heart. I knew it was time.
Over the last year, I put some things on hold. I didn’t go far from home in case anything happened to Willa. I didn’t want that responsibility left on Jesse’s shoulders, or anyone else’s for that matter. Granted, she was OUR dog, but she was mine. She was my big ole neurotic head case, who ate everything and anything. She was my hot mess who couldn’t be anywhere beside home or camp, or she’d work herself up to bloat. She was my dog, who was unpredictable and saucy at times. The dang dog would even try to challenge me. Try, key word. She never succeeded. She was also the one by my side daily and the one I conversed with as we puttered around the house and yard. Jesse mentioned to me one day about how I talk to myself. I told him I didn’t, I was talking to Willa. She always had an ear listening. Over the last few years, I kept an eye on her physical well-being, as she was prone to having bouts of falling down. Her aging 140lb body sometimes tired and took a minute (or two) to get up and go. Mentally, she was still there, attitude and all. I thought for sure that it would be her legs and rearend that gave up on her, but in the end, it was her heart. I tell myself it’s because she loved us so much…as we did her.
That same evening, I called the Emergency Clinic. They were closed due to a scheduling snaffu. Well, of course they are. What the ever lovin’ F**! Our only other options were to drive 3.5 hours south (one way) or wait until morning. Being an LVT, I knew I could keep her calm and comfortable overnight, and I would call our regular vet first thing in the morning. I reluctantly crawled into bed. I knew what the morning would bring. For the last time, Willa climbed into her oversized orthopedic bed and propped her head up in my face as she did every night. she let out her typical big sigh, groaned, and closed her eyes. I cried myself to sleep, only to wake up the next morning, still crying, looking like Quasimodo . As soon as the office opened, I called. They told us to head right in. When we arrived, the vet that Willa had as an itty-bitty puppy and the first few years of her life entered the room. We had come full circle.
The drive home, we were numb. We pulled in the yard. There was no black and white polka dotted face looking out at us. We opened the front door of the house. There was no giant body greeting us on the opposite side. The house was empty, despite having 3 cats along with Scout and our 12-year-old chihuahua. Living in 400 square feet, that 140lb girl took up a lot of floor space, usually directly under your feet. Her absence was noticeable.
During this time, we were in the midst of projects around the house. Projects that kept me busy and my mind elsewhere over the following weeks. I started work at 6am and busted my ass during the day. At night, when I hit the pillow, I was out. The next day, the same routine. This went on for a few weeks and then when the house was done, we took a well overdue trip to see our daughter and grandson in Florida.
When we arrived back home, we had a few extra things that needed to be done, gas lines run, heater installed, firewood taken care of and trying to get the house back together and organized after being dismembered for a period of time.
Then everything was done. Mostly.
This past week I’ve been in a pissy mood. I’m exhausted. I have nothing to say. Everything is annoying me. My body hurts and I just want to sleep. Close the world out.
This morning I saw a picture of Willa. I lost an entire hour.
I’ve kept myself so preoccupied that I wasn’t allowing myself to grieve. I haven’t allowed myself to start going through the motions. Today that dam opened up.
When we first lost Willa, I had conversations with a handful of people. One close friend, who I hadn’t seen for a spell came to the house and said he was sorry to hear about Willa. I Thanked him and told him I didn’t want to talk about it. Simple as that. Even though I know this individual loved that giant dog and would have listened, He said he understood.
Everybody handles loss differently, in their own time and in their own way. So here I am….writing.
For 12 years, Willa was my constant every day. She wasn’t always just by my side, I would literally wake up with her 140lb body sprawled on top of me in bed with her nose on my chest. She was the one who didn’t leave me when the girls grew up and carried on with their lives, and when I struggled with an empty nest. She certainly kept life colorful with her antics and neurotic moments. To me, she was the most beautiful polka dotted puppy in the world. I miss the way she would softly look at me or the hard stare she’d give me as we had a staring contest. I always won. I miss her velvety ears and muzzle. I loved how she smiled. I loved how she loved the cats. I love how she danced in place, stomping her paws with her ears perked. I even miss how she would drink, eat, drink some more, only to come share her findings in my lap, as her slobber covered me. I miss chatting with/ at her on the porch over morning coffee and watching her bask in the sunbeam. I miss snuggling her as she would wrap her paws around my head. I loved how happy she was when we moved to camp and knew she was safe and free. I loved how she loved winter and snow. I loved how, starting at 4 pm, every hour on the hour, she looked out the window waiting for Jesse. I loved that she was Ours. That she was mine. That I was hers. I love that she has a part of my heart now and forever.
Off-Grid Soul 