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Sunday, Aug. 03, 2003-1:35 p.m.
"Dad makes the hardest entry ever, cause I can't."
I was so torn, sitting down here last night... and again this morning... this afternoon... before it takes me untill tomorrow night too, I need to make a diary entry for Axel. This is the hardest one ever for me, Axel's Dad. Not because I wondered what he was thinking, a few days ago, when he was nibbling an ice cream cone, and suddenly the WHOLE SCOOP came off the cone and he was holding a giant ball of frozen vanilla ice cream in his mouth... (drop it on the floor=bad, right? swallow=being a pig, Dad said NIBBLE not swallow!!) ...not because, bless his heart, he stood there a moment not knowing what to do... not because he SWALLOWED (ULP!) and down it went... and not because he stood there a second, clearly trying to decide- did he feel bad about this? He GOT the whole scoop, right? ...did it feel unsatisfying, or *extremely* satisfying? Was Dad going to laugh or scold? or something in between? (I laughed, and comforted- I know how I'D have felt if *I* was in those paws!) -This is the hardest entry ever, because that was destined to be the last thing Axel and I shared that would really define AXEL... who has given me so much, that I don't even know how to say it. I don't know how to make another entry for Axel, because yesterday afternoon, Axel had to be put to sleep. (I know. I'm sorry, but sick-dog entries wouldn't have been any fun for anybody... and it feels like we didn't have any warning either.) I'm not feeling prepared, to make an entry for my handsome boy- I do wonder what he is thinking, right now... I do know what i'm thinking... when you cross the rainbow bridge, do ya get rainbow-drippy paws? I guess it'll be a while till I find out. It makes for an image in my mind though... I think it'd be the only thing Axel ever stepped in, that he wouldn't mind having on his paws... all that rainbow drippy stuff of the bridge to the other side. I can imagine him prancing about, as proud of that as he ever was of a new clean scarf, or a blankie or robe he was 'carrying' (wearing!) around the house. Lookit what *I* got, Dad! Isn't this cool? Bah, It sounds horrible- but I don't know what else to say. I probably sound horrible, but I feel worse. ...I don't feel prepared, to try and project his thoughts onto the written page... I don't feel like a simple 'sorry, he's gone' post would be fair to him or to his memory. He was my buddy... and he was so much more. How can I even begin to do that justice? I want to tell you about his last hours- because I think that defined him as a spirit- more than just what his body was, Axel had a strong, strong spirit! He had devotion and love and... so much intelligence you can't even imagine. I would like to think that maybe he touched some lives, even a little bit as much as he touched mine... This will be hard to write, but it's the only thing I can think of, that would possibly stand as testimony to what a noble heart he had, and how FAR he was willing to go to stay with me. Last Saturday Jim ('Pa') and I decided to take Axel for a walk to the local park- having just moved near it, we hadn't done that yet, and I've been staying home (yes, since the best buy thing, and no, they never responded to us) and I had not gone out in quite a while, so we figured a little walk and play would be a good change. It was a nice little trip, actually- we walked down and walked around- He played a little, but by the time we got home, I could tell something was wrong. Axel looked stiff and sore and somehow.... not himself. When the dinner bowl was filled, he sniffed it, and went to lay down. (If you know Axel, you know that sent us all into panic-worry! Axel never turns down FOOD unless he's very *very* sick!) He didn't want to be touched- he would come to my side or feet, and lay down with his nose on me, but he didn't want to be petted or handled, or played with- he didn't want to get up and move around much... he wanted to lay with us or on the lanai and be left alone. He looked SO sick to me, but I had no way of knowing how or what was causing it. He had no way of telling me. I just can't go through the whole thing here- no matter how hard I try to explain, or talk about the vet visits, or the consultations with others, I just... I can't. Those things were painful parts of it, but they weren't the parts I want to remember. I felt, somehow, deep down, that he was saying goodbye to his whole world- he would lay down on the lanai, and watch everything. He had his moments, being 'himself' again- he'd play (or get his 'crazies' and run around joyously, tossing a toy or running around the house) but then he'd be sullen and sick again, and it would get quiet and tense here. He kept shutting down, and became anxious and surly, and just wanted to be left alone- but never *once*, during that time, did he fail to alert on me when I was needing something- or fail to do any of his tasks, weather I asked him to do them or not. He insisted on it- he refused to have it any other way. I broke into tears late in the week, feeling like we were going to lose him- and he came as he always did, to perform his "buddy" task- to lay his head on my chest, and comfort me. (I think about that now, and it makes me bawl like a kid... how miserable he was, I could FEEL it... that he would still get up and come to me, to try and comfort me! -when I know he felt like taking someone's head off just for making him move!) I don't have the heart to go through it all, blow by blow- and it wouldn't do his memory any justice anyway. Yesterday, (this Saturday- after a week's worth of vetting, medicine, and consulting) We finally had to face the fact that there wasn't any other choice. Axel was miserable, and there would never be any 'cure'. It would continue, even if he was 'retired' and given all the care anyone could ever give him- he would BE like this, untill the end came anyway, though a different means. It wasn't a simple thing- it wasn't one evil we could fight till we won, it was a horrible, tangled mess of things that would just drag on and on for him. I couldn't give him a cure. At the very end, we tried everything- it was the worst for me, to see him, laying in the back hospital-cage in the vets, looking like he could barely BREATHE, much less move- but the moment the door was opened, or I came in- he struggled to his feet, and came to my heel. Even when I tried to divert his attention from something unplesant with a command, he obeyed it without the slightest hesitation- it was like he might give up the world, but he refused to quit working for ME. The hardest thing to tell you feels like the most important, somehow. The Vet tried to give him the easiest death in the world... she kept giving him drug after drug, and he just... didn't QUIT. Right when she couldn't imagine he would even be able to open his eyes, he would see me, and stagger to his feet again. The strength of his spirit was astonishing. It was not hard, to look into those eyes, and see the wounded soliders of his ancestery, who would protect and defend their master even when the wounds they'd suffered should leave them dead. The drugs kept coming, and he kept getting back up. In the end, I think he wasn't EVER going to give up, as long as he could see me. Finally, after agonizing over it, we gave it over to the vet's hands, and we went home to wait. When the vet called, he had finally lost the fight, and they had put him to sleep. I know she said "he was a good boy for us, at the end." but you know... I don't think there was EVER a testimony to a stronger spirit, than seeing him drag his bulk back up, wobbling and laboring to even breath- just to come and perform his 'buddy' task, because I had started to cry. I know he didn't want to leave me, even if he was ready to leave the world. His job and his life were one and the same to him, in the end. A friend of mine offered that when we got him, it was only borrowed time anyway... and I must admit, the very first time our eyes met for a long, bonding kind of moment... I had a sinking feeling, a fear almost, but more a sickening thought-knowledge-fear that I wouldn't have him for very long. It wasn't NEARLY long enough. I cannot imagine, for even a moment- when I try, I just break down and cry- how I will go about the most basic of things... without 'my buddy'... without my gaurdian and caregiver (if any human deserves that label, he does!)... without my big shadow, plodding along, refusing to let me go even to shower, without coming in to lay and watch me. 'We all have special pets', I used to joke, 'but does yours bring you a towel, when you forget yours?' I think Axel was *very* special... and I don't even know where to begin, to do him justice here, or anywhere. For those who wonder: we took Axel ourselves, through the next step of the journey- we drove his body to the care of those who will cremate his remains. He was sent with his beloved Blankie (a sadder thing I have never seen, than that tiny-sized baby blanket over that great big mountain of a dog, laying on the cloth stretcher like he was only in the middle of the heaviest, most relaxing sleep of his life) and we included his most beloved things- the first scarf he ever wore with us... a gift, like the blankie, from his 'Pa'. His llama- an abomination of a stuffed toy, a shiny-soft-silky-furred thing with a 'honker' inside... it grieved him when it stopped honking, but he still loved to run about, waggling it from side to side till he flogged himself (and anyone else he could reach) upside the head with it. We sent his booda-cow, a tiny toy he loved dearly and wouldn't part with, even tho when he carried it, it disappeared into his huge mouth. We sent his 'puppy'... a silly rottie-headed plushie ring, with squeakers and a rattle... he always looked at stuffed rotties- and any toys like that one- with an amazed look. I think he knew it was meant to represent a Rottie, just like him, somehow. -And because it felt so right, we packed him a little bag for the 'trip', of his food and a fresh, clean scarf- just in case, you know... he might meet anyone on the way, whom he might want to impress. He always looked good in stars and stripes, and you never know who you might meet on the other side. We wrapped him, and his things, in his blankets, and we left his remains to be cared for by some perfectly wonderful folks who will return him to us, so to speak, sometime next week. In a nice rosewood urn, he said. Axel always liked cool, smooth wood, it felt good to lay on. ...but not as good as Linoleum. Axel, I will never forget. I Love you. Be good. Dad
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