Blog: The Part Of Pet Ownership That No One Takes To Heart

Hiya, Happy Thanksgiving to all of my US based folks or those who celebrate! If you’re going back through the log of my blogs & noticing that last week I was noticeably it’s due to two prominent reasons. The first is that my immediate family celebrated the holiday last Friday & thus I was busy cooking, socializing, & entertaining. The second reason is the topic of this week’s blog & while I don’t intend for it to be a downer, I’d be lying if I said the subject matter is a walk through the park. Nevertheless, it is something I feel drawn to speak on in this season of life as well as this season of the year since many people will soon be giving or receiving the gift of a furry, feathered, &/or scaled friend & should understand what exactly it is you or your loved one is signing up for.

Some of you may be aware of the ‘zoo’ that I have at my house; two golden retrievers (Harvey (12) & Peter (3)), two domestic shorthair cats (Jade (13) & Max (5)), & a 185 gallon saltwater fish tank. In addition to a jungle of over 150 house plants. Today we’re going to be focused on my eldest golden, Harvey, for the purpose of our narrative.

I grew up with animals, we always had big dogs when I was young, Newfoundlands to be exact. Over the years we also had cats, fish, frogs, & two terriers, but I always wanted a Golden Retriever. I remember a friend of mine’s parents from elementary school used to breed them & the movie Homeward Bound featured an old golden named Shadow, so I’m sure that’s where the obsession started. Despite the want, we never got goldens so after I moved out I rescued Harvey from an abusive mill at the age of six months old. He was incredibly hard to potty train as he’d spent his entire life up to that point on concrete & was afraid of grass. It didn’t help that my apartment at the time had concrete floors. Harvey, despite my early frustrations with him, is & has always been the perfect dog. He is loyal & loving to a fault. He is gentle & has the most kind heart of any being I have yet to come across. He was instantly my guy, the gold (pun intended) standard to which I shall now hold every dog for the rest of my life, but Harvey’s biggest fault & the one to which all great dogs falter, is that he grew old.

It’s hard, you know. It’s so damned hard to watch your best friend, your buddy, your companion, your most goodest of boys grey around the muzzle, then struggle to find their footing, then have a hard time getting up & lose interest in their toys or their favorite snacks. It’s so unrelentingly hard when those beautiful, loving brown eyes begin to cloud over & their breath begins to get labored & you start to have to think about the beginnings of the end of your time with this purest of hearts that you wish endlessly would beat on forever. & unfortunately this is the part of pet ownership that far too many find to be just way too difficult.

The shelters are full of animals whose previous owners truly didn’t understand. They didn’t know the commitment, emotionally, physically, spiritually, that it takes to raise & care for an animal & I feel sorry for them. Not just for the abandoned animals, of which the majority are over half their lifespan in age, but also for the people who will never know what it is to spend the course of their life being unconditionally loved by an animal.

About a week & a half ago Harvey fell. We were out on a walk & he just kind of crumpled. From there he spent the next couple of days incapable of getting up, when he’d try to stand or walk he’d fall or his legs would drag, he wasn’t eating, wasn’t taking treats & I truly began to think that this was it, this was going to be the last week that I had with this golden angel who poops in my yard & gets taken on daily walks around the block. Ev & I canceled our flights to Kansas City & loaded up both of the dogs in the the car to drive the 16 hours round trip not only so we could tend to Harvey, but also so my parents, who have so much love for my dear boy, could say goodbye to him. Over the next week he didn’t get that much better, though he did eat & regained a bit of his footing, & for the first time since I’d been bringing him back to Kansas he didn’t ascend the stairs with me to sleep at the foot of my bed.

Evan & I did our best to prepare for what we thought was surely the end; we told our friends who had special connections with Harvey to come say their goodbyes, we set Harvey’s paw print in a mold to have a token or remembrance & I don’t think there was a day in which I didn’t have to go off on my own for a while to break down & weep. It’s a truly impossible thing but you do it because you wouldn’t give back a single minute that you shared with that animal.

I’m sure I’m not too many blogs off from writing about my dearly departed dog but we’re not there yet. Harvey went from the shell of a dog he was last week back to somewhat of his older self. The vet explained to me that small scale strokes are common in large dogs of his age & there’s a potential that’s what happened, but I most fortunately get more time with my guy, time where he is still the happy, smiling dog I love with every cell of my heart & for that I am so infinitely grateful. But I know there will come a day, sooner rather than later, where I will have to say goodbye to my red, shaggy rock & I will face that with a broken heart & tear stained cheeks but I will be there, with him, til the end because how could I not be?

This past week & a half has been a rollercoaster & in all honesty, if I were to put into words how I’ve been feeling, the answer would be fragile. I wrote this blog with tears streaming my face, but I bare them with all of the pride in the world, because over the last twelve years I have had the utmost privilege of being loved, unconditionally, even on the days where I definitely didn’t deserve it, by the best dog I could have ever dreamed of & I have loved him back. But I know, at the end of it, when all is said & done & I am left to come home with nothing but a collar, I’ll know that for all of the love I gave him, he will always have loved me more & I would do it all again in a heartbeat knowing how it feels when it’s time to let a great dog go.

As always, much love to you all,

-C

Blog/Object Writing: Grief

If you noticed I did not post an outright “Object Writing” post on here on Wednesday, that is because I did a five day series on grief. I was given the grief prompt by a dancer our of University in Canada who asked if I would do an object writing page for her final dance project using the five stages of grief. Naturally I agreed & was delighted, this is that assignment! In my initial writing I did my best to make the stages flow naturally into one another, over the last week I had to figure out ways to segment them out into five one minute posts, they are all attached below. So, what I’m going to do is first post the written form then if you feel so inclined, or if you’d rather, you can go through the individual posts & watch/listen to what I did with them. I can’t wait to share the final dance product as well once it’s presented! Enjoy!

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OBJECT WRITING: GRIEF

“This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.” The shock of the news nearly knocks me off my feet as the message the tsunami of information carried echoes endlessly around my brain. I feel faint, detached from the human vessel that tethers my spirit to this earth, adrift in the noise & chaos. My myriad of emotions cause me to question what is real or even possible. Is this? Is it all just a dream, some sick illusion my subconscious has cooked up for some unknown reason or have the unfathomable nightmares of my deepest, darkest dread become reality? At the end of my Rolodex of “no’s” hangs the fixture to which I attach blame. “IF” I am to believe this malicious marquee of misinformation then someone is at fault. Someone or something is the culprit for this misfortune; effect is nothing without cause. My adrenals pump molten rage into my bloodstream, igniting my senses into fiery passion. I am fuming, eyes frantically searching for elucidation & something to pin the focus of my frustration. Then it hits me. It smacks me in the face with the fury of the scorn I’ve irradiated into my atmosphere. What if it’s me? What if it’s my fault? My mind begins to work overtime, clockwork machines come alive & the pressure & steam give way to desperation. I return a call, for the first time since being encumbered by the burden of knowing I reach out to another human being whom I share commonality with. I am insistent, disheartened, “if only I’d done this,” I cry, “if only I’d done that” but my cries are fruitless. What’s done is done. Life has no redo button, it offers no relapse into the undoing of retribution. Maybe an exchange then, something for that which I’ve lost. Maybe the almighty, the cosmos, the powers that be will shine one glint of mercy upon me & offer me a fair trade. Time, money, possessions, health, all are on the line, all viable options for the return. But the universe sits silent, unbothered by the heart-wrenched pleading of a drop in the river, in the grand stream of time. All is silent. The stillness creeps into my being & settles uncomfortably into my bones. The meaning & spirit drains from me like sap oozing softly from a tree into the ground below me. Gravity’s weight is multiplied ten fold & soon the creature comforts that bring me respite begin to do little the fill the void. I am hollow, an empty shell of icy numb hurt as the colors melt inchmeal around me into sickly, sullen shades of grays. It’s pointless, all of it. Pointless. My energy depleted, my hopes scattered, my berth begins to feel more & more like a tomb; a black void of nothingness to which I shall willingly succumb. Little by little I fall further into the pits of my forlorn until, at last, I reach the soft maw of the abyss. Cradled in self pity & affliction I lie there, transfixed by misery until a delicate ember drifts haphazardly into my core. It too rests with me in this eternity, offering a knowing melancholy smile before wrapping me in warmth. The freedom of empathy washed through me & enrobes me in loving light. It does not discount my loss or patronize but instead sits in amiable eloquence carrying me through my despair. It lifts my chin, places a quant reassurance on my forehead, & nudges me affectionately towards tomorrow. “It is time,” it whispers to me. Like a freshly birthed foal I stagger to find my footing; one & then the other. I look up to the mountain that stands proudly aloft before me & I begin the ascent; one foot at a time, one day & then the next. The sun breaks through the morbid gray & for the first time in what feels like an age I am at peace.

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OBJECT WRITING: GRIEF PART ONE: DENIAL

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OBJECT WRITING: GRIEF PART TWO: ANGER

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OBJECT WRITING: GRIEF PART THREE: BARGAINING

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OBJECT WRITING: GRIEF PART FOUR: DEPRESSION

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OBJECT WRITING: GRIEF PART FIVE: ACCEPTANCE

Blog: What Is Grief If Not Love Persevering?

Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’m not here to spoil the ending of WandaVision for you all, nor am I here really to review the show either. In reality I wanted to talk about something very much outside of the show itself. If you haven’t been watching WandaVision, Disney+’s excellent show about Wanda Maximoff & her endless grief you’re seriously missing out, especially if you’re someone who claims to be a Marvel fan. I know a lot of us, myself included, weren’t exactly hype over the reality bending sitcom that the show initially presented itself as but boy was I wrong to feel as such. You see, the MCU aside, WandaVision paints a very interesting picture of how we as humans (or super humans) handle grief.

(MCU Post Avengers: Endgame Spoilers To Follow)

At the end of Avengers: Endgame we are left in the fallout of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes having to sacrifice a great deal to save the universe at large from Thanos & his plan to (successfully) wipe out half of all life in the universe. A study of grief & loss in it of itself especially the first act or so, Endgame concludes with the funeral of Tony Stark & the retirement of Captain America, the respective friends & families of whom are left to mourn on their own as they go their separate ways. Each of these groups of individuals have their own support systems in place to help their grief & consul them with the exception of Wanda who after losing her love, Vision, in Infinity War is left with no one. Truly no one. And there in lies the true tragedy of Wanda Maximoff.

Wanda is an outsider to the rest of the Avengers at the best of times. Entering the MCU as a follower of Ultron, Wanda reluctantly becomes an Avenger with a little talking up from Hawkeye before losing her brother, Pietro, in the ensuing battle. At this point in the timeline Wanda has known her fair share of grief. Having grown up in war torn Sakovia, Wanda & Pietro lost their parents to violence at an early age. Following the Age of Ultron Wanda is inducted into the Avengers & basically becomes the linchpin that the events of Civil War revolve around. She is tossed in the middle of a conflict by people who treat her as an outsider, as someone who doesn’t entirely belong. Only Vision, a fish out of water himself, seems to care to show Wanda genuine kindness & humanity.

Why do I tell you all of this? Why give you the MCU wiki page on Wanda for the purpose of discussing grief? Because perspective is important, as is recollection. If you’re an avid MCU watcher you’ve no doubt noticed Wanda being sequestered to being a side character throughout the films despite her overall importance to the plot of each film she is featured in. I think this is intentional. She is meant to feel alone, isolated, because that is what she is. Wanda is a tragic character destined for misunderstanding & that is why taking the time, as Marvel/Disney+ have done, to give her breathing character moments is so important & relatable.

Wanda’s grief is poignant to us because she is forced to save face & continue foraging through her life without taking the time to offload the accumulating grief & pain she is baring. She is forced to be strong, to be an Avenger because people are afraid & don’t know how to handle her emotions & her sadness. Wanda is forced to carry these things on her own until she cracks, until she can no longer hold it in any longer & has to find some way of coping with her sorrow in a manner most would deem unhealthy.

So often we do exactly this; we don’t make the time or have the energy or the support systems in place to allow ourselves to truly face the things the are weighing us down. We mask our pain, we bottle it up, we let the rot fester until it consumes us because we decide that’s easier on our peers than honesty. We don’t want to inconvenience people or come of as weak so instead we self destruct. This is beautiful illustrated in WandaVision. Wanda had no one left to turn to, no one left to hold her & consul her so she creates them. She fell down the rabbit hole into a fantasy that ended up doing harm to those who happened to be caught in her orbit simply by proximity.

Gah, there’s another statement to be said here about the ending of this series but I won’t spoil it, especially since we’re still within 24 hours of it having dropped.

We have to be more self aware, we have to give ourselves more grace & love. We have to recognize the signs that tell us to stop & grieve; to process the emotions & trauma we are going through because if we don’t, no one will. The world will just keep chugging onward piling on new experiences & fresher wounds that just stack on top of the ones we haven’t taken the time to heal until we can no longer take it & we break. We have to show ourselves a little of the love we’ve lost along the way because as Vision so beautifully stats, “what is grief if not love persevering?”

WandaVision is a beautiful look at the consequences of grief avoided. It sees the beauty in the sadness & illuminates pain in a way that is relatable to all. Give it a watch & don’t forget to check in on yourself from time to time.