You got this.
Showing up for your child in your perfectly imperfect way is enough. It’s ok to not know all the stuff about all the things. Academics, health, economy, family life have many amplified unknowns right now. You have been tossed into uncertainty. It’s ok to not have a clear sequence of action steps based on past experience.
What if… this is a time of opportunity?
Yes, uncertainty. Yes, unknown. Yes, uncharted. Yes, challenges.
What if we add... Yes to curiosity. Yes to wonder. Yes to flexibility. Yes to choosing the best in this moment. Yes to analyzing our standard routines and tailoring them to fit us better. Yes to noticing what good could result from this time. Yes to upleveling our family. Yes to claiming our role as primary educator. Yes to learning a whole bunch as we go along.
I’m with you.
All in Dog Cancer
As I wallow in heartbreak, I clearly see the intensity of my pain is proportionate to the intensity of my love for my furry daughter. No offense, humans, but yesterday I lost my best friend.
As I navigate the palpable emptiness, my pants are still covered in fur and remind me of the freshness of this wound. Stepping in her water bowl slosh, the puddle reminds me of the free-flowing tears. Turning a corner and seeing her toy where she sat… only yesterday… is a sharp blow.
Yet.
Wishing you Love and Miracles on Sophie’s bonus birthday.
Thousands of walks when we thought each may be our last.
Thousands of cuddles when we thought of the time we’d have no more.
Thousands of nose pokes.
Thousands of puppy dog looks to remind us she’d like some attention.
A thousand days of reminders that our plan sketched on our napkin is only a guide, and the upcoming path is not crystal clear or particularly ordered.
Another day, another miracle.
Wishing you the same.
We all laughed, sang and enjoyed our amateur parading skills. We only made it to the end of the block before coming back for bowls of water, a puppy pool and ice cream.
In dog years, Sophie will be 100 on Monday, July 9!
We are planning a parade. Actually.
Our journey these 730 days, since her imminently terminal diagnosis on April Fool’s Day 2016, has been crazy and unexpected. I’m thankful for every day with her.
...
Since we really didn’t want to make her miserable with painful surgery and regular stressful rides to the vet for chemo, I decided to make her comfortable at home. Her mouth was tender from where the tumor had been cut to biopsy, I began to soak her lamb and rice food in water to soften it. And… we increased her walks. If she had as little as a few days left, we were going to make them happy. She got 2 to 3 walks per day, with few lousy weather exceptions.
At this point, we were mourning her every day. She was still with us, but we were crying as we were watching her die. It took me about 6 weeks to just focus on appreciating every day with her.
