Cozumel Day 1

Not wanting to rub peoples nose in it too much, especially seeing as how the winter has been particularly bad this year back in Canada but I’m writing this from this resort:

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That’s right.  Cozumel Palace in Mexico.  That’s the view from the glass bottom boat tour we went on this afternoon.  It was a good day with a beautiful sunrise and spectacular sunset and now we’re off for a gourmet dinner to cap off all the snorkeling and pool volleyball and assorted indulgences.

We feel for you all…we really do.  My google weather widget shows -12 for Ottawa tonight.  Good luck to you all, we’ll think of you when we tour the ruins of Tulum tomorrow.

cheers,

Kris

Little things

Even after a couple days, the human mind starts to show it’s resiliency.  The pain and emotion starts to fade into the rational thoughts, “It was her time”, “She had a good life”, “We did the right thing to end her suffering”.  We cope because that’s what we do.  Because humans have been losing loved ones since our species began and if we don’t live with it, we go mad.

It’s the little things that still get you though.  Looking outside with gentle snow falling and remembering how funny and forlorn she would look, coming in covered in snow.  Hearing a cell-phone ‘bee-doop’ its low battery warning and starting to rush to get it before remembering that she’s not there to be scared of it anymore.  Getting vegetables out of the fridge and not having her nose sticking in the crisper looking for a carrot.  Subconsciously moving knives and breakables back from the edge of the counter because she used to get up there in her never ending quest for food.

These memories will stay but I hope that they stop feeling like picking at a raw wound.  I hope that I don’t have to keep recoiling from them like they were burning embers knowing that they bring back the rush of tears and choked voice.  I hope I can just remember her and be happy that she was a part of my life.

Kris

Lonely

I’ve been an early riser for quite a while, often waking up several hours before everyone else in the house.  It feels very different this morning now that Casey is gone.  Finnegan the cat tries to fill in but he doesn’t really get it.  He doesn’t really need me to do anything for him.  Sure, he’d like me to feed him but he still has some left over from last night.  He’s got a litter box so he doesn’t need to go outside.  He likes to be around us but it’s not really the same.  Casey needed her pack and would always try to be in the same room with us, at our feet, getting in the way.  Cats are more content to go off and do their own thing.

The picture I posted of her was taken a few years back when we went to Sharon’s parents in Sudbury. We’re both early risers so we would go for a walk in the morning and take some pictures. It’s kind of sad in a way because that was the beginning of the end. She hurt something on that long walk through the deep snow. The vet thinks she twisted her knee but either way, it was the first sign that she wasn’t a young dog anymore.

After that, we didn’t walk as much. She was game to keep up but then she would be sore and limping for days afterwards. We kept her on anti-inflammatories which meant that she wouldn’t wake up so stiff and sore but her exercise was very limited. The last year or so she was really just a house dog and I feel bad for that because she really loved it outdoors.

The last few weeks have been a little different.  Casey had a bad seizure at Christmas, the first evidence that she wasn’t going to live forever, once again being disobedient to our telling her that she was supposed to.  Seizures in dogs are fairly traumatic for the owners to see and the dog takes a while to recover so we had thought that we would have to put her down at that time.  Within a day or two, however, she was much better and seemed pretty much like her old self.  Every now and then, in the six weeks following, she would have a bad day and we would suspect that she might have had another seizure but she seemed mostly content.

Not in every way though.  She often seemed a little sad.  She seemed to spend a bit more time by herself, often lying on the cool floor in the basement or upstairs in the computer room while Sharon and I were on the main floor.  As the early riser, I noticed that she wouldn’t get up right away in the morning with me but was content to sleep in.  “Just being like her mommy,” I thought and didn’t worry too much since she was getting old.

The beginning of the end came only a few days ago on the weekend when we noticed a little lump or blister on her belly.  In a way, it’s a mercy that whatever happened to her advanced so quickly.  The seizures would have gotten worse and worse but the fact that she would recover each time would have made it very hard for us to make a decision perhaps prolonging her suffering.  This cancer or whatever it was didn’t give us a choice, spreading so fast and causing so much discomfort that we had to do the right thing and couldn’t even keep her long enough for one last visit with her Aunt and Cousin who are visiting this weekend.  She stopped eating normal food and the only way we could get anything into her was with cookies and cheese.  That and carrots.  That dog loved carrots.  And broccoli stems and almost any other crunchy vegetable other than celery.

We wanted to make her last day a good one.  We promised ourselves not to cry at the vets until she was gone so her last vision wouldn’t be of us wailing for her.  I got her a nice raw steak and a bunch of bacon which she ate like she was starved.  We stuffed her full of cookies and brought her down to the truck.  For the last couple years, she hasn’t been able to jump up in the truck anymore so I would always have to lift her up.  She used to weigh 80 lbs but was down to 70 now.  Somehow, to me, she felt as light as a baby when I picked her up and put her on her bed that we kept in the back.

We took her to the dog park.  It was a cold day and her circulation wasn’t very good anymore so she couldn’t take it for long but she walked around and did her business and got to sniff a few other dogs.  Got to see the forest and remember that she’s a part of the natural world.  Got to be outside in the wild again, if only for a little while.

She always enjoyed riding in the truck and we still had some time before our appointment so we just drove around.  This is the last photo that will ever be taken of her.  She looks comfortable.  In a way we’re lucky.  I think that we did this soon enough that she was still able to enjoy her last day at least a little bit.  So many people wait too long until there is nothing but pain and suffering.

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We got to the vet a bit early but I didn’t want to wait in the office for too long so we walked around the parking lot.  She had another couple of pees…she had been doing that a lot in the last day or so.  Drinking and peeing constantly, showing us that her organs were shutting down.  I wanted to give her something else so I went into a pizza shop and bought a little box of the half cooked bacon that they put on pizzas and let her have that before we went in.  Still eating bacon, even at the end.

Other people who put their pets down might tell you that it’s quick but it didn’t feel that way to us.  The last hour at the vets was the hardest thing we’ve ever had to do.  We kept our word though.  We held her and told her she was a good dog and tried to keep our voices as cheerful as we could so she wouldn’t be scared.  I was looking into her eyes when the final dose was given and I saw the precise moment when our dog went away.  Some light in her eyes, that spark that was her, just vanished and she was gone.

The vet gave us some time with her, a private moment for us to howl for our lost pack member, pour our hearts out for this animal who had loved us more than we can imagine, given us more than we could ever have repaid.  She didn’t look dead.  She looked like she was sleeping and leaving her lying there on a blanket felt so wrong.  I know she was gone but I feel like I deserted her into the hands of strangers who could never know what she meant to us.  We had to walk away because there was nothing there for us anymore.  Just an empty collar and a leash with nothing to attach it to.

And now I’m sitting her, wishing Sharon would wake up because this house is just so quiet and I’m so very lonely.

Kris

Casey Abreu-Warkentin, 1996-2008. Requiem in Pace.

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We had to say goodbye to a dear friend today.  I won’t go into details but she was in discomfort and it wasn’t going to get better.  Dogs are tough and don’t like to show pain but in spite of her putting on a brave face, we knew it was only going to get worse.  For better or worse we made the decision to let her go while she still had dignity and was still capable of enjoying her last day.

It’s often said that love is blind by which, I assume, they mean that love blinds us to flaws in the object of affection.  I think that true love is when your eyes are wide open to the failings and shortcomings of those whom you love and you love them just as much as if they were perfect beings.

Casey was by no means a perfect dog.  She had a strong personality and she never learned to stay out of the garbage.  We never got too mad at her since the tail between the legs and regret in her eyes showed that she was REALLY sorry.  Even still, she would be back in there eating empty wrappers and bread crusts again the next day if you didn’t lock the cupboard.  Stubborn and occasionally disobedient, she was nonetheless an intelligent and sensitive friend who could always read our moods and understand our feelings.  She possessed all those qualities one comes to expect in a dog, first and foremost loyalty and love to Sharon and I, the other two members of her pack.

Twelve years.  It’s a good age for a dog everyone says.  She’s had a good life.  She was Sharon’s dog ever since she was a puppy so I only knew her for the last four years of her life.  I wish I could have known her for longer.  I wish she didn’t have to go.

Others with better words than I have said more than I ever could.  This eulogy was delivered as a closing argument in a court case by a man whose dog had been killed by a neighbor.

The one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous, is his dog.

A man’s dog stands by him in prosperity and in poverty, in health and in sickness.  He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow and snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near his master’s side.  He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer, he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounter with the roughness of the world.  He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince.  When all other friends desert he remains.

When riches take wings and reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journey through the heavens, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him to guard against danger, to fight against his enemies; and when the last scene of all comes and death takes the master in its embrace and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there, by his graveside, will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even to death.”

George Graham Vest (1830-1904)
Johnson County Circuit Court
Warrensburg, Missouri

Rest in peace Casey.  We’ll always love and miss you.

Kris

Obama

A testimony to the brilliance of a particular speaker is their ability to speak to people outside of their set of beliefs and get a message across despite vast differences in opinion.  As some of you may know, I’m very much an athiest but Barack Obama gave a brilliant speech on his faith and the faith of Americans that even someone like me could relate to.  It’s about 40 minutes long but very inspiring.

cheers,

Kris

Ambition

I think the majority of people in the world, on being given a large sum of money such as from winning the lottery, will try to stop working.  How many times have you heard something like, “If I had Bill Gates’ money, I sure wouldn’t be slogging my way to work every day.”?  This, of course, is the reason why these people don’t have his money.  I would postulate that there is a certain class of people who are rich precisely because they are the type of people who work just as hard, if not harder, when they are already wealthy.

I think people need to have something to work towards and it doesn’t necessarily have to be money, power or fame.  It could be knowledge or good deeds or stamp collecting or just about anything that requires some effort and doesn’t give instant satisfaction.  The stories you hear of people getting into all sorts of trouble after winning the lottery probably thought that all their life’s problems and goals would be solved by that money.  They quickly fall off track, much like second and third generation wealth is often frittered away by spoiled, goal-less heirs or heiresses.

I’ve recently made statements along the lines of the Bill Gates comment above with regard to my brother.  By all accounts, he’s got it made.  He’s a pediatrician who could have a great job paying lots of money almost anywhere he wanted to go.  He’s got a great wife and kid with another one on the way.  He’s struggling though.  He’s doing his fellowship in Paediatric Oncology out in Vancouver making student wages which don’t even cover his living expenses, racking up debt, putting a huge strain on his family because he has a dream.  A dream he had since he was a teenager and his friend’s mother died of cancer.  He wants to help sick people and fight the horrible disease and he’s paying a heavy price to do it.  I don’t know if he’s going to make it.  If you give up on a fellowship, it’s unlikely you’ll ever get accepted again but if it costs you your family, is it worth it?

I had originally thought the choice was easy.  Take the money and run.  Why would you struggle so hard and suffer as a poor student at the age of 33 when you could be making a fat six-figure salary?  That’s what I would do.  But that’s also why I have a comfortable job making a comfortable salary and I’m not doing anything bigger than writing some code that other people might get rich off of.  If I were the type of person to struggle that hard, maybe I’d be willing to do 20 years of schooling to achieve my goals.  I’m not that type of person but I’m beginning to understand that not everyone is like me and I don’t envy the choices he might have to make.

Kris

Wii

Just got a Wii….very addictive.  My console number is 3021 2562 3749 2930 if anyone wants to add me.  Reply to this post with your number if you like.

cheers,

Kris