A Sad Time

The boys are going to take the trailer in May. I've put it off since camping with Teresa, but today I went out to clean out and rearrange it.

While doing the usual cleaning, vacuuming, etc., I was coming across Jack's balls, and so many of the things that I had in the trailer for him. Before I knew it, I was cleaning through tears thinking of all the lasts that have occurred in his life.

I'm glad that he's still happy and not feeling the effects of this disease, as yet, and we enjoy the small things in life-walks up around the school and to the nature center. I'm going to have to give up the latter as it's kind of isolated should he start to have breathing problems. Last week, when I had to take him into the emergency room in the middle of the night, he cried and cried when they took him away from me. He's never been like that.

It breaks my heart to see him so happy and know that at any time, now, I could take him in to have an intense surgery that will require a very long recovery. I'm struggling with it. He's so healthy other than this lymphatic duct thing that it reminds me of when Rich had to go in to major surgery feeling perfectly fine. It's one thing to succumb to the discomforts of surgery if you go, like I did, knowing that you'll have less pain when you come out.

He's so good about taking his medicine. I count with each pill as he takes them and he takes them without any problem. Today, he was a busy boy hiding a rawhide bone deep down into the bowels of the leather chair that no one ever uses. He looked over at me as if to wonder whether I had been watching. I pretended that I hadn't. Why he thinks I would take his bone is beyond me. He spends hours, sometimes, figuring out where to hide his things. Between Susan's house and our house, he probably has 50 bones. We'll be finding them for years.

Many people would think I'm crazy for the way I feel about Lizzie and Jack, but they were my reason to live after Rich died. They provided so much joy even as the dark moments seemed so overwhelming. After Lizzie died, I wondered whether Jack would ever be the same. He isn't, really, and still comes in and looks at her spot whenever it's time to  go out in the back yard as if he's still wondering where she went.

Now, he's my significant other. He's the best communicator of any pup I've ever known. I just hope he understands how much he has been loved. Here are some most recent pictures.

Jack with his buddy, Comet