The Hardest Last Dance

It’s been 14 days and not a bit easier.

Oh Sundance. My Soulmate, my Man-Dog. My four-legged partner. Today is your 13^th birthday.

We should be at Wicked Wort Brewery right now, celebrating your birthday with all the folks there that love you. Instead, I pace around our home feeling the loss of you this evening….

I am broken.

Why, why has this suddenly happened? Leaving was such a shock. How is it possible to go from celebrating my birthday with a Saturday night out to the Brewery for beers and live music, followed by a Sunday birthday breakfast, and then, by Wednesday you stop standing up and by Saturday you, my love, are gone.

I am broken. What did I miss? What didn’t I see sooner? Out of nowhere, how could this happen so fast?

I have been consumed with the agonizing belief that I somehow failed you. I am ridden with sadness and feelings of guilt. I should have known. I should have noticed something, I should have done better…. I should have….should have…..should. have. Now here in hindsight I trace back through our history together. Trying to find a clue, a reason. There is none. Oh God I am broken.

You came to me 3 years and 45 days ago. Kim, your original mom was my X significant others’ sister. She passed at home and was not discovered for some time. I’m so glad you and your 7-month-old apricot sister were discovered there, obviously in distress. I am grateful I ended up getting involved through my would-be stepson. While I took you both, my intent was to rehome you to a neighbor who had just lost her poodle. She agreed to take your baby sister, but wanted nothing to do with you because….

Well, you didn’t so look so good. In fact consensus was you looked like you weren’t going to make it.

Almost 10 years old. Massive sores on your body from skin infection, two ear infections , two eye infections, dreadfully thin and totally miserable.

Something in me said, “you can’t give him back to Brad, you know what will happen”.

So I kept you, thinking you were on the decline, this would be a palliative rescue, I’d provide as much comfort as I could for your last days.

That was 3 years and 59 days ago.

To my surprise and joy, my sweet boy, you bounced back like a superball and became the most important being in my world. You became my project. I was devoted to getting you better. The steps we took to bring you back to health were immense, shaved to the skin and daily anti biotic bath soaks and ear cleanings, eye drops, special feeding, many Vet appointments, and lots and lots of love. But you had the desire, the will to live, and the transformation was remarkable. You seemed to become stronger and healthier than ever. And you rose to the occasion to be so very much to me. My devoted, loyal boyfriend dog.

What a gift. How cruel for it to end in just 3 years and 59 days. I am broken.

You, my man, made such an impact on so many people. Everyone loved you. Even Coco. Everywhere we went, people wanted to touch you, nuzzle and cuddle you, know about you, experience you. People even pulled over in their cars and jumped out to ask about you. Most people say I rescued you, but my love, you are the one that rescued me, in so many ways.

Oh how I miss you. The way you curled up close to me at night and softly purred like a content kitten, lulling me to sleep, and woke me up with a soft nose in my neck when I ignored the morning alarm going off.

You were always there for morning Yoga on Zoom, our class mascot, along with your sister Coco. You followed me wherever I went throughout the house and yard, you sat with me, you waited for me, walked with me, played ball with me, danced in the living room with me, and leaned into me or laid a paw on my arm, or my chest and comforted me when I needed it most. You snarfed up everything I cooked for you and surfed the counter like a pro. You scolded me when I stayed up too late, worked too long, or forgot to make dinner for myself. You could not be denied in your gentle giant way.

You listened to my troubles, calmed me, encouraged me, and let me know when my Chaturanga Dandasana was getting sloppy and I needed to rest.

You were my escort, my reliable date, a way out from the aloneness I often felt. You gave me a reason to step back out into the world and not just focus entirely on work, you were my loyal companion, standing tall, all sexy and proud, at my side, my big fluffy gentle giant stepping around town with me.

You somehow seemed to know and provide everything I never knew I needed and more, asking nothing in return.

I love you so much.

Now everything, the slightest thing, all trigger overwhelming hollow emptiness, sadness and numbness. I can’t seem to get anything accomplished except miss you. It takes every ounce of energy I have to get myself to work and make it through each practice, come home and fall apart buried in Cocos soft body as she mourns for you with me.

Some people will casually say “well he was 13, he had a good life with you, it was time.”.

But I just can’t wrap my mind around that and be okay with it.

I saw the hope, the trust, the desire in your eyes. I know you didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to give up. You ate, you drank water, you tried to stand. Right up to the end, you tried.

The devastating news we were given on Thursday July 10th, when I rushed you to Allied Emergency Vet Service—6 hours and thousands of dollars of testing everything they could, your tentative diagnosis was Neoplasia vs. Immune Mediated Disease vs. Metabolic/endocrine disease. Several masses in the anus, abnormalities in the esophagus, a twist in the spleen….

God how did I not know any of this? We just brought you for your annual check up a month earlier. We just had a great weekend, and had plans for YOUR big 13^th birthday party. We still have weeks of Friday night at the winery to go to.

But just like that, everything went downhill. I laid next to you, slept on the floor with you, made steak for you, brought all of your favorite things to you, tried to cheer you, and softly stroked your face and body. There was no fixing it. I’m not ready for this!

In the depths of denial and aching heart, I made the call. The gentle, kind vet arrived. I held your head in my lap and we locked eyes. I see you, my man. I hummed a gentle chant to soothe you, guide you to the light. I whispered how much I loved you. What a good, beautiful, perfect boy you are. I thanked you for loving me, letting me be your human. I promised I’d see you again soon. And you looked back at me with total trust and devotion. There are no words for the depth of bond we shared. The gratitude, commitment, the love.

And away you went.

On Saturday, July 12^th at 3:58pm my sweet boy Sundance took his last breath into my arm. He was my everything. My Everything. And I was his.

I am so broken.

You were, such a surprise, most certainly a gift. The best gift.

Yogi’s believe we are spiritual beings, simply passing through and having a quick little human experience on this revolving rock called Earth. That this time, the here and now, is a mere micro speck of what our true soul selves are, that we are in fact, eternal light and goodness, pure energy merged with our maker, our God. And the same holds true for animals. I fully embrace the idea of this belief, but clearly, I’m not there yet. As hard as I try to look at things differently….

I am broken. I am lost.

Love you to the moon and back, Sweet Sundance. You filled my heart, my life with so much love. You will always be my man-dog, my boyfriend dog, my love. Our family grieves the loss of your big fluffy beautiful physical presence, and pray you shine your pure loving light over us until we can heal our grieving hearts and meet again.