Post by stephenpatrick on Mar 26, 2010 20:53:55 GMT -5
Love all God’s creation, the whole of it and every grain of sand. Love every leaf, every ray of God’s light! Love the animals, love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things. And once you have perceived it, you will begin to comprehend it ceaselessly more and more every day. And you will at last come to love the whole world with an abiding, universal love. Love the animals: God has given them the rudiments of thought and untroubled joy. Do not, therefore, trouble [them], do not torture them, do not deprive them of their joy, do not go against God’s intent. Man, do not exalt yourself above the animals: they are without sin, while you with your majesty defile the earth by your appearance on it and you leave the traces of your defilement behind you – alas, this it true of almost every one of us!
Fyodor Mikhail Dostoevsky (1821-1881)
Yesterday morning, Thursday, March 25, at 9:00 our beautiful chocolate lab, Reuben, died. He was 13 years old, and oh so very, very special to us. About 1 month ago he almost died of suffocation. Because of a disease, the trap in his trachea would close when he became excited, which was anytime my wife or my daughter got up to take him outside, especially when he sees them in the morning. To him they were always playtime, long walks, and lots of fun. He had 3 more attacks since then, all of them this week. His heart seemed strong, yet his lungs would fill with fluid, and he tired after just a few steps. His hips were failing him too. Surgery was not only outrageously expensive, but at his age we did not want to put him through the long and painful recovery. It was also extremely difficult for my wife and daughter since the attacks took place in the morning when I was always at work. This was very hard on them, watching him on his side, gasping for breath and losing his bowels every time. They felt like there was nothing they could do and it was breaking their heart. Rueben needed to remain calm, and cool for when it was hot outside if he was going to continue living through the coming summer.
I fed him breakfast this morning, then we shared a carrot (he loved the loud noise it would make in his mouth when chewing) and had a few other special treats that he liked.
I may have been the one he looked to be his master, but I was also his protector, provider, best friend, and his Dad. I wished this morning that Reuben could have talked to me, pleaded his case to me, and say "Not now Dad, please not now. I don't want to go." But it was not to be. Looking through the big sliding glass window, past the pine trees, he could see the usual people walking their dogs down by the railroad tracks. Time for some adventure, naps, lots of love and licks, and a nice hot supper of rice and hamburger. He was only thinking of the present. It was going to be another great day.
The veterinarian's came by and Reuben loved them, which made this hard for them too. First a sedative to help him almost sleep. And then another one since the first didn't do much to him. He was a big guy. We held him, loved him, and prayed with him. He died in my daughter Michelle's arms.
We have a nice wooded lot so we buried him in our yard. A couple of days ago I made a large wooden box for him. We prayed and gave thanks to God for the wonderful gift that was Reuben. I picked him up and laid him in on his blanket, with pictures of all of us, and his special bone that we used to put peanut butter in.
But I feel guilty, like a wretch inside. Because I did not have the financial means to stay home with him full time and keep him safe and calm I feel like a traitor and I truly let him down. While I do understand the other side to this hard and sad issue, and I know these these feelings will pass, its just how I feel right now. I did not protect him at this time in his life. To me there is nothing natural about sticking needles into your friend and watching them die. Again, I do understand why we do it. My first dog died 18 years ago, yet I don't remember the same feelings of guilt nor the tremendous sense of loss.
Westerners today are somewhat cut off from the entire dying process unlike other nations. People die in a hospital or home, the coroner comes to take the body away, prepare the body for presentation, and then deliver it to the cemetery. And then the cemetery people bury them. The last month since Reuben's first attack we all became aware of the need to prepare for his death. The last couple of days Reuben was in good spirits. He was so playful and loving with everyone. We never enjoyed him so much. He then died in our arms. We cried, we prayed, we prepared his body, made his casket, laid him out on his blanket, with framed pictures of us, his family. And we buried him. Never before have I participated completely in the death and burial of a family member. It is truly a sad and humbling experience but I feel like I walked away with a deeper understanding of life and death and what it means to mourn.
A special story.
A few hours later while I was sitting on our picnic bench facing Reuben's grave, our neighbor's dog, Dirky came by for a visit. He stops by at least once a day. He's a big, good, friendly, special guy. He came up and sat next to me on my left, nice and close. We talked for a bit, and I always give him lots of attention. I was still mourning the death of Reuben, so my voice was quiet and sad, and I was shaking. After about a minute, he stood up, walked towards Reuben's grave. He stopped about 15 feet from it, put his head up and smelled the air. He then paused for about 2 or 3 seconds, backed up 2 steps and came back and laid down next to me, at my left again, on his side, on top of my foot.
It took me a few seconds to realize what happened. He knew.
Dogs not only have the best noses in the world, but they are able to sense when somethings wrong with people. They know the smell of death and he probably smelled Rueben. He was buried pretty deep in a box with 3-4 inches of cement on top, and another 3 or 4 feet of dirt, yet Dirk smelled it. And he sensed that I was sad. And he helped me. I got down next to him, dropped tears on his face, and hugged him and kissed his head. A few minutes later we both got up and went our way. He was the way in which the Lord helped to begin healing the pain of losing Reuben.
I consider many of you friends and I just wanted to let you know the difficult past month that our family has been going through.
Fyodor Mikhail Dostoevsky (1821-1881)
Yesterday morning, Thursday, March 25, at 9:00 our beautiful chocolate lab, Reuben, died. He was 13 years old, and oh so very, very special to us. About 1 month ago he almost died of suffocation. Because of a disease, the trap in his trachea would close when he became excited, which was anytime my wife or my daughter got up to take him outside, especially when he sees them in the morning. To him they were always playtime, long walks, and lots of fun. He had 3 more attacks since then, all of them this week. His heart seemed strong, yet his lungs would fill with fluid, and he tired after just a few steps. His hips were failing him too. Surgery was not only outrageously expensive, but at his age we did not want to put him through the long and painful recovery. It was also extremely difficult for my wife and daughter since the attacks took place in the morning when I was always at work. This was very hard on them, watching him on his side, gasping for breath and losing his bowels every time. They felt like there was nothing they could do and it was breaking their heart. Rueben needed to remain calm, and cool for when it was hot outside if he was going to continue living through the coming summer.
I fed him breakfast this morning, then we shared a carrot (he loved the loud noise it would make in his mouth when chewing) and had a few other special treats that he liked.
I may have been the one he looked to be his master, but I was also his protector, provider, best friend, and his Dad. I wished this morning that Reuben could have talked to me, pleaded his case to me, and say "Not now Dad, please not now. I don't want to go." But it was not to be. Looking through the big sliding glass window, past the pine trees, he could see the usual people walking their dogs down by the railroad tracks. Time for some adventure, naps, lots of love and licks, and a nice hot supper of rice and hamburger. He was only thinking of the present. It was going to be another great day.
The veterinarian's came by and Reuben loved them, which made this hard for them too. First a sedative to help him almost sleep. And then another one since the first didn't do much to him. He was a big guy. We held him, loved him, and prayed with him. He died in my daughter Michelle's arms.
We have a nice wooded lot so we buried him in our yard. A couple of days ago I made a large wooden box for him. We prayed and gave thanks to God for the wonderful gift that was Reuben. I picked him up and laid him in on his blanket, with pictures of all of us, and his special bone that we used to put peanut butter in.
But I feel guilty, like a wretch inside. Because I did not have the financial means to stay home with him full time and keep him safe and calm I feel like a traitor and I truly let him down. While I do understand the other side to this hard and sad issue, and I know these these feelings will pass, its just how I feel right now. I did not protect him at this time in his life. To me there is nothing natural about sticking needles into your friend and watching them die. Again, I do understand why we do it. My first dog died 18 years ago, yet I don't remember the same feelings of guilt nor the tremendous sense of loss.
Westerners today are somewhat cut off from the entire dying process unlike other nations. People die in a hospital or home, the coroner comes to take the body away, prepare the body for presentation, and then deliver it to the cemetery. And then the cemetery people bury them. The last month since Reuben's first attack we all became aware of the need to prepare for his death. The last couple of days Reuben was in good spirits. He was so playful and loving with everyone. We never enjoyed him so much. He then died in our arms. We cried, we prayed, we prepared his body, made his casket, laid him out on his blanket, with framed pictures of us, his family. And we buried him. Never before have I participated completely in the death and burial of a family member. It is truly a sad and humbling experience but I feel like I walked away with a deeper understanding of life and death and what it means to mourn.
A special story.
A few hours later while I was sitting on our picnic bench facing Reuben's grave, our neighbor's dog, Dirky came by for a visit. He stops by at least once a day. He's a big, good, friendly, special guy. He came up and sat next to me on my left, nice and close. We talked for a bit, and I always give him lots of attention. I was still mourning the death of Reuben, so my voice was quiet and sad, and I was shaking. After about a minute, he stood up, walked towards Reuben's grave. He stopped about 15 feet from it, put his head up and smelled the air. He then paused for about 2 or 3 seconds, backed up 2 steps and came back and laid down next to me, at my left again, on his side, on top of my foot.
It took me a few seconds to realize what happened. He knew.
Dogs not only have the best noses in the world, but they are able to sense when somethings wrong with people. They know the smell of death and he probably smelled Rueben. He was buried pretty deep in a box with 3-4 inches of cement on top, and another 3 or 4 feet of dirt, yet Dirk smelled it. And he sensed that I was sad. And he helped me. I got down next to him, dropped tears on his face, and hugged him and kissed his head. A few minutes later we both got up and went our way. He was the way in which the Lord helped to begin healing the pain of losing Reuben.
I consider many of you friends and I just wanted to let you know the difficult past month that our family has been going through.
