under the moonlight, this serious moonlight
Monday, January 11th, 2016 02:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
erikaThis week's life lesson is apparently about the nature of time and mortality.
My dog, Ronon, fell suddenly ill on Sunday. I found him in the bathroom, a place he never goes except getting dragged in to take a bath, and he wouldn't leave, wouldn't move, wouldn't come when called.
Now, he's known for not coming when he's called when he doesn't want to. He's a hound, for pete's sake——he gives a great Ghandi impression: I don't want to do this, so I will passively resist. But I didn't want to move him because he hates the bathroom! He didn't respond to me asking him to come, or telling him he'd get a treat, and I worried even more when he flinched when I came near.
I was terrified, but he seemed to have recovered. As best I can figure, he had a big increase in pain from changing weather and the arthritis that had already been diagnosed, combined with a night where he prefers to sleep (on the living room futon, which is a big room that gets cold... unfortunately my bed is too high and there's no space for stairs).
I feel like such a bad dog parent for not rushing him to the emergency vet, but he was tracking, he was responding to stimuli and so I cuddled him for a while and let him be. He fell asleep, then was fine and eating dinner not six hours later, so although terrifying, it was temporary.
And now David Bowie. Shit. This guy is more eloquent than I can be right now and my feelings echo Brian Eno's statement "David's death came as a complete surprise, as did nearly everything else about him. I feel a huge gap now."
Life. It ends. Do what we can with our time. I've been spending more than usual cuddling with my animals and taking care of myself. It feels good.
My dog, Ronon, fell suddenly ill on Sunday. I found him in the bathroom, a place he never goes except getting dragged in to take a bath, and he wouldn't leave, wouldn't move, wouldn't come when called.
Now, he's known for not coming when he's called when he doesn't want to. He's a hound, for pete's sake——he gives a great Ghandi impression: I don't want to do this, so I will passively resist. But I didn't want to move him because he hates the bathroom! He didn't respond to me asking him to come, or telling him he'd get a treat, and I worried even more when he flinched when I came near.
I was terrified, but he seemed to have recovered. As best I can figure, he had a big increase in pain from changing weather and the arthritis that had already been diagnosed, combined with a night where he prefers to sleep (on the living room futon, which is a big room that gets cold... unfortunately my bed is too high and there's no space for stairs).
I feel like such a bad dog parent for not rushing him to the emergency vet, but he was tracking, he was responding to stimuli and so I cuddled him for a while and let him be. He fell asleep, then was fine and eating dinner not six hours later, so although terrifying, it was temporary.
And now David Bowie. Shit. This guy is more eloquent than I can be right now and my feelings echo Brian Eno's statement "David's death came as a complete surprise, as did nearly everything else about him. I feel a huge gap now."
Life. It ends. Do what we can with our time. I've been spending more than usual cuddling with my animals and taking care of myself. It feels good.
