Tuesday, May 27, 2008


It's days like these that bring me closer to my long lost, Jewish roots and all I can think to say is....oy. My Jewish roots are very long and lost mind you but they're still there. Is "oy" Hebrew? Makes me feel bilingual.

Anyway, it's the dog. Phoebe. Our dog. The light of our lives. That might be pushing it a little bit but she hasn't been well lately and she's 12 years old. Somehow impending death elevates you in the heirarchy of family life. It also brings about certain privileges like becoming a couch dog when you were never allowed to be a couch dog. And then becoming a bed dog when your owners put stuff on the couch so you can't be a couch dog. And then a chair dog... you get the picture.

Everyone seems to see the obvious path here pretty clearly except for myself. She doesn't seem old enough to me. It seems to me when I was growing up our dogs always lasted a good long 15 years. It might have something to do with the fact that my mom would cook our dog Bo a special meal of hamburger, corn and rice because he had congestive heart failure and that was all he would eat. I'm thinking my mom increased our dogs longevity this way and probably paid for a few extra vet visits to keep 'em going. And here I am cooking chicken breast for my dog and spending $180 on bloodwork that will probably show something very enlightening like she's old.

But twelve is not old it's just middle age old. She should still have 3 good years in her. Sure they might be years of peeing in corners of the living room and leaving gifts of poop on the carpet but these are the years that make you think "ok, she can go now, I've had enough - God love her." It makes it all a little easier.

And here I've been thinking my kids have no idea what's going on. I'm trying to shield them until the inevitable. And how will we tell them? Will we give them a chance to say good-bye or will Phoebe go to live at a farm? Maya was overheard telling her cousin that when she gets a puppy (because Phoebe obviously won't be around much longer) that she would really like a smaller dog. Guess I don't have to worry about "the farm" story with her.

So the thought of an upcoming puppy will help Maya through this. Eva and Isaac will definitely have a hard time with this. Then there's Tim who told me about the cute puppy he saw at the vet this morning when he took our dying dog in. Traitor.

I guess it's just me I have to deal with now and Phoebe. Oy.

No comments: