Paw Prints

Today I received a card in the mail from Deer Creek Veterinary clinic.  When I saw the envelope, I thought it was either a condolence card or a letter telling me that her ashes were available for pick up.

I opened the envelope and it was a card.  But when I opened it, I saw an ink paw print of Trinity's.  I was overwhelmed.  I can't explain it.  It's just pure grief.  I've never seen something and cried and been brought back to that raw moment of death so quickly.

I remembered burying my face in her shoulder fur.  Holding her head, and the whole front of her body in my arms.  The doctor injecting a pinkish liquid into her hind leg.  The inability to ask if "that" was the stuff that would make her heart stop.  For some reason, I thought there was a pre-injection.  Then realizing that it was happening.  Not being able to watch the plunger run out of liquid.  Burying my head in her fur.  Hearing her say, "Her heart's still beating.  I gave her enough for a 200 lb. dog.  She has a very strong heart."

I wondered if I should pull away to let her know it was okay to go.  I decided not to.  She was smart enough to know when to go.  It hurt to hear that she had a strong heart.  That physically her body could have kept on going.  I didn't want it to stop.   I sobbed into to her fur and cried "Trinity.  I love you.  I love you Trinity" over and over again.  It was like a bad funeral.

"She's gone," the vet said.  I still held her for a few minutes until I could feel that she was really gone.  It was surreal.  I stood up and wiped my eyes.  The rest of the afternoon, I tried to be happy.  I even took Mira and Kahlan to the lake, with Jon.  I laughed and smiled as Kahlan bounded through the wake after a stick and swam for the first time.  I sympathized with Mira who retrieved the stick, but really wanted to go back to shore.  I could have good dog memories for a short time before the grief would come to haunt me and remind me of all the things that I didn't do with my best friend.

Now...Mira is my best friend.  She has been with Trinity and I since she was one and a half.  She's a little over five now.  Kahlan is Trinity's daughter.  I am having trouble bonding to her.  Because really all I want is Trinity and Mira.  Any variation, it's hard to imagine.

Last week this time...

 I learned this mind-set growing up.  Last year this time, we were in Gatlinburg.  Or last month at this time, my cousin Holly was still here for the summer.  I realized today that I haven't played this game yet with Trinity and her life.  I've been so caught up in her loss, that I forgot.  I'm glad I forgot.  But what the heck.

Last week at this time, I was deluding myself with her health.  A week ago Tuesday, she had a seizure.  I came home and she didn't come out of the bedroom.  That was not abnormal, so I didn't panic.  Then I heard a whimper come from the bedroom.  It's the only whimper I've ever heard her make.  I found her on my bedroom floor, having a seizure.  She had pee'd on the carpet.  I moved her away from it, so she wouldn't lay it.  Then she didn't get up.  She didn't get up for 3 hours.  I called Jon and told him he would probably have to come to my house in the morning and carry her to my car for me.  I laid down next to her a lot and cried.  I begged her to get up.  I told her if she wanted to live, then she needed to get up.  I went to bed late, and shortly thereafter, she stood up and walked.  I was thrilled.  Beyond words.

So let's continue the game.  A month ago, she was not my Trinity at all.  Even further away from the one I said good-bye to on Saturday.  Something had gone wrong with the medicine or her brain.  She wouldn't look at me.  I felt like I had lost her already. 

Two months ago, she was in a semi-normal state, after her "trinity" of seizures.  She was shaking my hand, licking me in the face (with horrible breath), jumping up on the bed, and walking okay.  She wasn't normal, but she wasn't too far off.  I could live with the new Trinity she had become.

Three months ago, I believe, she had her first seizure.  Jon and I think it was a heat stroke.  She had it on one of the hottest days of the summer.  I was so relieved to hear he had stopped it.  I was in Alaska on a cruise.

Four months ago, she was my Trinity!  I think Kahlan may have been living with us still.  She and Kahlan played very well together.  I was extremely impressed with how gentle she was with her daughter.  She would wrestle with Kahlan, sometimes knocking her down and sometimes allowing herself to be turned over on her back.  Kahlan was fairly serious about the whole thing, but Trinity only gently bit at her legs and mouthed her neck.

Five months ago....

Six months ago she was going to bite Tessa.  I was so angry with her.  I made her pay for that.  She ruined Tessa's show career by putting a notch in her ear.  She wasn't allow to go to Jon's for three weeks, which meant she got very little exercise.  I feel so terrible over that.  It was my fault for not holding the leash tight enough.  It was my fault that she could lunge at all.  It was her hormone's fault for causing her to lash out in aggression.  Her hormone's were all over the place from the spay.

Seven months ago, she had just been spayed.  I spayed her because I didn't want to take the chance that she would develop a life-threatening uteran infection.  I didn't want her to have anymore puppies, because she wasn't the best with child birth and had developed a mammary gland infection with her last litter.  I also hated the bleeding in the house when she was in season.  I think the spay was too hard on her.  I'll never spay an older female again.  I'll take the chance on the infection and deal with it the best I can.  She was never the same after the spay.  Her coat became overly thick and she couldn't blow it.  Her emotions were all over the place.  Really laid back, then suddenly aggressive.  She wasn't the same.  I liked her personality just fine before. 

Eight months ago, her last litter of puppies were going home.  I was in San Diego.  I desperately wanted the long haired puppy, but I wanted a show puppy too.  I miss Bella, but I am glad she has a perfect home in Boulder.  I wish I could move in :)

Nine months ago, it was the new year.  I had just returned from Christmas in Ohio.  We didn't spend her last Christmas together.  But we did spend New Years :)

Ten months ago, Trinity was almost ready to have her last litter of puppies.  It was her easiest litter to birth and her first litter with Ronin.  He was the first dog to breed her naturally.  The whole thing was natural.  I loved it.  Every moment of it.  Each and every one of those puppies were special to the core.

Eleven months ago, she was getting ready to turn six.  I was panicking.  I felt like she was getting old and I couldn't imagine my life without her.  At first I counted wrong and thought she was getting ready to turn seven.  I was relieved when I realized she would only be six.  I would have at least four to five good years with her.  I hoped she would live to be thirteen or fourteen.  One of those lucky few. Because then I would have as many years left as I had already spent with her.

Twelve months ago, she was bred naturally for the first time.  What a long ways we've come.

I wish

I wish I had taken her camping more. She was such a brave and independent spirit; she would have relished mountain tops.

I remember this camping trip when she was 8 months old. We went to the campground near Brainard lake, just west of Ward, CO. It was the second time I used this tent. She didn't sleep as well as when it was just her and me. She threw up on the way to the campsite, because it was up a windy road. That was somehow my fault, as was the tree that my "ex" ran into. On a relational level, the trip sucked. On a Trinity level, it was a success.

This was the last time Trinity ever went camping. After that, life became crazy. My "ex" and I went through a period of marital counseling, followed by a divorce. I was always so "out of time" after that, and afraid somehow to camp with just the two of us. She also developed an aggression issue that we had to address. I can only imagine how hard the divorce must have been on her. She lost a person in her life, her home, a backyard, time with her mommy (who now had sparse spare time), stability, and so much more.

But she gave, love, protection, devotion...even when I tried to give her away. About a year after the divorce, I went through a very difficult time and didn't think I could care for her any longer. I offered her back to my ex. Thankfully, he declined but he said that she was anxious for me every day that she stayed with him. When I returned to me, she was so happy to see me. She healed me with her love. The way she never wanted to be away from my side and would find a way to be near me. She would curl up at my feet and put her weight against me. I loved that.

Physical loss

I lost my German Shepherd, Trinity, on Saturday.  She had not been well since mid-July.  I had to put her on anti-seizure medicine and I felt like I lost her in many ways then.  These past few weeks she had several more seizures.  Saturday morning she couldn't get up.  It's strange how you think you've lost something, because you lost their personality.  But when you can't put your arms around them and put your fingers in their fur; the physical sense of loss is just as amazing.  I miss her in an incredible way.

I don't mean to go all Anthony Robbins, but there are two ways to look at this picture. A toy all ripped apart (which it is), or a sunshine shaped toy with clouds surrounding it.

It's been nearly 3 months since Trinity had her first seizure at my house in Lakewood. When I walked in the house after taking Mira out for her morning restroom break, I found Trinity seizing hard on the living room floor. At first, my voice was strong. "What's going on, Trinity? Come on. Get up." Then I lost control. I thought she was dying and I felt helpless. I pleaded with her to stop. I called Jon. He said I was hysterical. He talked me down from the ledge so that I could help her.

And that was my first experience with a dog who has seizures.

She is nearly 7 years old. Still young. She should be young. But instead she is made old by whatever is causing these seizures. Or maybe she is made old by the seizures themselves.

This morning I awoke at 3:30 a.m. to the smell of dog feces. In the middle of the night, she had defecated and then stumbled through it. When I finally came to full consciousenss, I could see her in the corner, panting. She always hated having accidents in the house. It was so hard not to yell in frustration at having to clean the carpet in the middle of the night. It was so hard to not find a way to blame myself or to get angry with her, which would only lead to guilt later.

I called Jon and he suggested that I bring the dogs to his house for a vacation day. They could play outside in the sun while I work. We talked about putting her down. He suggested that she spend a day outside and then maybe after work.... I can't do it. I couldn't go to work and be normal all day (which I would have to be) and then go home and walk my dog into a gas chamber. That's what it feels like. I feel so terrible.

So, I decided not to do that. I am not ready. I hope she forgives me if she is ready. I am trying to read the signs. I am trying to understand when is enough and when we are still companions and when I am making her life better.

On my way to Jon's house this evening to check on the dogs, I thought a lot about Trinity. From 10 months on she was a very protective dog and pretty much dog aggressive. While her behavior was sometimes alarming (I felt like I owned a junk yard dog when out on the trail), I really apprecite how safe she made me feel. I knew that Trinity would let nothing happen to me. Mountain Lion, bear, and creepy people who may want to serial kill me. I sometimes wonder if she protects me so much because of her undying love or because I am her "object". Her belonging. I wold like to think it's a mixture of both.

I never knew how much I needed protection until now...when I find myself being the protetor...and feeling lost without mine. I miss her so much.

Losing and gaining

This title should be 'Untitled' because there is really no title I would give to losing your best friend. I thought about starting another blog to grieve this loss, but decided against it. All I want to do is blog my grief, not start a cause or find some sort of definition of myself through it.

So...this is for you Trinity. Everything I couldn't say outloud, but I think that I said silently between the two of us when I hugged you and messed up the hair on top of your head.

Starting a blog topic seems like a momentuous event. I realize that this blog has been all over the place, but I imagine more than a few, if not many will be dedicated to this topic of grieving my pup. An important topic should contain an important picture. Trinity took lots of beautiful pictures. She was a gorgeous dog. And I don't just say that because she was my dog. She struck what I consider a perfect german shepherd conformation pose almost every time she stopped. She "stacked" all by herself. And she smiled as though to say, "look at me! Aren't I pretty". She would have been a natural in the ring, had it not been for that coat. Her long coat. The coat that I loved and will always adore and want desperately in another dog in the future. But...I have to be careful not to clone my love and look for her in another. Each one has to stand on their own.

Anyhow. Back to what I was saying. Trinity took lots of beautiful pictures posing. And I took a few beautiful ones with her. We both looked good. But I chose this picture. No make-up and unkept hair. I chose it because it shows the bond that I had with her. How much I adored her and loved her. Holding onto her coat and wrapping my arms around her. Burying my hands in her soft fur.

Yesterday, when she lay in her coma in the sunroom, I held her in the same way. I put my arm underneath her head, and lay my body right up next to her. She actually moved a little toward me, which gave me the greatest joy that she knew I was there. I held her as much as I could and told her that all she had to do was get up, and we'd keep trying. But she didn't get up. I wish to God she'd gotten up.

I miss her more than words can tell. I would do anything to lay her across my lap one more time and bury my head in that soft fur.