The Dog Groomer in the Sky

The following conversation took place while my three-year-old nephew Harrison and I were having a FaceTime catch-up sesh earlier this week.

Me: Guess who's coming to Michigan with me next month?

Harrison: Who?

Me: Buddy!

Harrison: Is Patches coming, too?

Me: No honey, Patches isn't coming.

Harrison: Is she still in Heaven?

Me: Yeah, she's still in Heaven.


Harrison: Is she getting a haircut there?

Lose, Loss, Lost

We'd made camp in the living room for her final days, watching TV and eating takeout and leaving everything else for the undeniable after, so we spent most of this morning putting the house back together.

Bevan dragged her mattress up to the attic and I ran the vacuum cleaner. We collected all of her medications into a paper bag and discussed who we might give them to. We stacked her food and water bowls, one inside of the other, and slid them on top of the spare refrigerator in the laundry room. We folded her blankets and placed them in the wicker basket next to the sofa, purposely not washing them so as not to lose her scent. Bevan's voice cracked when he asked if we should keep her leash.

Throughout the day I'd find myself glancing at her favorite spot on the rug or checking under a lump of covers on our bed or opening the door to Sidney's room half-expecting to see our Patches girl grooming herself in a narrow strip of sunlight on the floor. I just now found myself listening for the click of her nails on the hardwood. Buddy hasn't eaten since she passed.

I've long known that loss is the price of love and that there was never going to be enough time, so then why is it that I failed so spectacularly to foresee that when she left us for good our house would no longer fit?

An Update on Buddy's Busted Limb

Because we've had so much effing dog drama in our house already this year I forgot that a while back I wrote on this web log about how Patches fell on Buddy at the dog park breaking his front left arm in two places.

Wait, are the front ones arms or legs?

Dogs are four-legged, right?

Okay, so his leg.

Anyway, Patches snapped one of Buddy's limbs in a couple of places while playing with another dog at the dog park last month (according to Bevan Buddy was just standing there and Patches fell on him) and several people have asked me how he's doing so below is an update (and some x-rays).

Initially the vet thought a compression splint would allow Buddy's leg to heal well enough to get him through his life (it would've also been a much cheaper option for us), but then a week into his healing she changed her mind and recommended that Buddy have surgery which, pardon me for being gauche, sucked dirty butthole to pay for, but we did and now Buddy has a badass metal plate in his left foreleg (Foreleg's correct. I googled it).

Now on the road to recovery, barring anymore incidents at the dog park Buddy should be back to his sweet, scampering little self in a few weeks.

Oh, and I know I was a weepy little bish about Patches on this website for a long while earlier this year and then abruptly stopped writing about her, so here's the scoop. There's not really much new information to share except she still has cancer but she's also still four-legged and we intend to keep her that way for as long as we can. We visited a holistic vet in Pacifica last week and she adjusted Patches' spine (dog chiropractics, y'all), outlined a 'cancer diet' for her and prescribed a bunch of new vitamins (and dog pot).

I should note, just in case anyone who's read this far has an animal, that pet insurance is an absolute must. We didn't get it because we're total freakin' idiots and because of that the cost of making (or trying to make) our two sick dogs healthy has totally screwed us right in our big, dumb faces.

So get pet insurance.

You're welcome.