Two Months

It's been two long months since Sparks has left. I've been sitting here today, thinking about it all, and realizing that even though time has brought a little bit of comfort, not much has changed at all. While the frequency with which I am reminded of his loss has lessened, the intense grief, when I do remember, is still there.

I just miss him so much... I wish I never had to let him go.

Cows and Licks

I was driving by a big, juicy, grassy area today and I had to think about Sparks. He was definitely excited whenever I let him loose on our neighbor's patch of grass. He would roll around, rub his snout, grunt and snort, bite into it, scoot across it face first ... He was ecstatic! Eventually he would just stand there like a little cow and he would graze ... and graze ... and graaaaaaaaaaaaze. Every morning the same routine, with me ending up promising a big meaty breakfast if he'd kick it into next gear. I miss those little moments of just 'us'.


There are quite a few friends in my life right now, who are going through tough times with their pups. I want you all to know that I think about you daily, and that I do pray for you all and wish you the best. There's nothing worse than feeling helpless when your fur child is suffering and you're not able to help. Above all, there's nothing worse than trying to figure out when their quality of life has decreased to a point that life in general has become meaningless to your sweetheart. I found this website to be extremely helpful in making an informed decision...

http://www.caninecancer.com/endoflife.html

We always wonder whether our furbabies will give us a sign when they are 'ready', and I think most of them will. But it depends whether we want to see those signs and acknowledge them. For me it was important to not listen to my heart (which was screaming at me to continue to hang on) but to listen to my head, and be rational, and most of all, be compassionate.

During Sparky's last few days, there was an improvement at one point and I eagerly called my girlfriend to tell her that Sparks was fighting back. She had the compassion and the insight to tell me that he would never get better, that things were only going to get worse. For some reason, as intelligent as I thought I was, this had to be pointed out to me ... I don't know how I had missed it up to that point. The day he passed away, after a long weekend of not being himself, he came over to where I was sitting, and for the first time in 3 days he was 'present' and he licked my cheek, as if he wanted to lick away all those tears and tell me that it was okay - that he was ready to go, and that I would be okay without him... Oftentimes I think about this moment and I think how big it was of him to do this, and how very wise and so much more mature than I could have ever been.

I truly think they do give us a sign, and all we have to do is listen ...

To Poop or Not to Poop...

I remembered one of Sparky's little quirks the other day and I wanted to share it, even though it may be entirely disgusting to a dogless person.

Sparkers had a way about him that was just priceless. He had a habit of doing a little post-poop dance, almost like the NFL players when they score a touchdown. It always made me crack up. This little dance was also very useful if, for example, I'd be out in the yard doing stuff and Sparks would roam around on his own. The minute I'd see him bouncing around, and hopping towards me, mouth wide open into a big goofy smile, I knew exactly what had transpired. And so I would go off on my little "Treasure Hunt" making sure he didn't end up fertilizing the neighbors lawn again. He also was a very modest dog. If we were walking together on the street and the mood struck him, he would gracefully excuse himself behind a bush or tree and do his business there. Always out of sight. I think it had to do with stage fright. :D

Sparky was such a unique dog. He was so lovable, so goofy, soooo incredibly well-mannered, and sooooo needy, but sweet. I loved every minute of every day with him. I know I've said this before, but since his passing, things haven't been the same. I miss my Sparky-induced moods ... I'm back to my serious self. Life is just so much more complicated without my boy ... I miss his antics... I miss everything.

Sleep tight Puppyface.

Clippers and Things

I've made some "official" progress. I've been able to actually take Sparky's bed away, and I was able to give away his doggy ramp. Both things were incredibly difficult, and both things broke my heart a little bit. But I know it's the beginning of my healing. Most of his other stuff is still here though, locked away in the closet, to be kept for later when it hurts less to look at it.

One of the items locked away are his clippers. There are so many funny stories revolving around those clippers. When I first got Sparky he came with a big, thick Newfie-coat. Because he was so incredibly matted and stinky from the previous, neglectful owner, I had him shaved professionally. It was at that time that I noticed that our little furry friends are able to feel embarrassment. Hah! When he came back from the groomers, he didn't want to get out of the car. He was embarrassed and I could clearly tell. As a matter of fact, I had to drag him out and he immediately disappeared in the house where he would stay for two days, only coming out once in a while to do his business. By losing his coat he had shrunk about 2 sizes and I think he felt less of an alpha dog and more like a toy poodle. He was obviously upset with me and I knew then that my baby held a grudge. The trauma usually didn't last longer than 2 days, and by day 3 he was truly appreciative of all the weight lifted off him.

Anyway, the next time grooming was in order, I figured I could do it myself instead of spending 100 bucks each time. The result you see in the picture above. There were holes and missing patches of fur everywhere, but Sparky was a trooper and I think by posing for this picture he tried to make the best out of it.

I miss this goofball so much.