Gradually, Then Suddenly

I loved this dog.  And I adored the man who took the photo.  I had joked with him that he was a world-class dog sitter for her and that next he would teach her to read.  Voila! or Viola! as he would type it - this photo came to my phone.  She had become a reader.  Loved the dog.  Will always love the photo.

One of my dad's best friends was Tom Starzl at Pittsburgh  (he did the first liver transplant, I believe).  Whenever the subject would turn to non-accidental deaths (which for those two was morbidly often) - he would say "Death Takes Small Bites".  I always thought that would make a great title for a novel.  Small bites indeed.

My favorite literary reference to death was not in fact about death at all; I believe it was bankruptcy.  But I'll take liberties or artistic license.  I'm allowed - it was Ernest Hemingway in The Sun Also Rises.  The question:   "How did he die?".  The answer was "Gradually, then suddenly".

It is a sad time: I got through Hurricane Irene just fine, but Stella did not.   Brings to mind both Hemingway and Starzl.  The good news is that this post prompted me to find an email address for Dr. Starzl and send him a note about how much his friendship meant to my dad.

I have chosen to believe in a dog heaven.

My Dog Stella - Still Among the Living

My dog is going to die soon.  She is 13 or 14 years old, so it can hardly be called premature.  It is going to be one of those things that creeps and crawls its way to a decision.  There will not be a jolt, a dramatic event, an acute episode.  Instead it will be a slow decision about what is the right time.

I set markers - for her and for me. When X happens, it is time.  Well, truth be told, I've had a few X's already and I have made accommodations because I am not ready.  And more truth be told, she may be ready before I am.

She has been my dog for over 12 years.  Big, big 12 years.  I divorced, reconciled, reconciled, redux redux.  I quit my big corporate job. I went to law school at 50. I passed three bar exams. I flunked one.
Moved to Wilmington where I knew nearly no-one.  With the ex, ex, ex, ex husband.  Who lied about being in recovery. Whoopsie.
Agreed to a final split.  She was here through all that.
Then the Sudden Cardiac Arrest. Two months after moving here.   SCA, implanted defibrillator, new friends - some appropriate, some not.  More F___ing life lessons than I would like.
Of late, slogged through a tough 6 months.  Recovered. Came out stronger, more alive.
Now, I am accepting my dog is going to die soon.  Writing that sentence is hard.  Looking at her stumble is hard - she was an agility-type dog, not a stumbler.  Beginning to think of her in the past tense is hard.  Looking at her for signs that she has had it - very hard.  Hoping not to see those signs, then hoping I might. I don't want her to live one single day longer than she wants to.

Neither of us is ready yet.  But it won't be that long.  Here is her recent photo. I'd like you to meet Stella Z. Rowan.