Tag Archives: death

The down side of pet euthanasia. This is a sad story. 

On Friday, I had to put down another dog. This one was Genny, a fourteen year old schipperke. She had lymphoma. When one puts a dog to sleep one does so to end the dog’s suffering. That is only the reason you do it. It is a wretched process. If I ever have another dying dog, I will only do it if the dog is writhing in pain or profusely bleeding. Genny was neither of those things. She had stop eating on Tuesday and by Friday was nothing but skin and bones. She was living on my cuddles. Over the last two weeks I laid her on my chest a lot. She was never one to lay still for long, so this was special for us both. 

Unfortunately, tragically, the euthanasia process was not reflective of a gentle falling to sleep. The vet at the clinic that day was not the one I had taken my dogs to for fourteen years. This vet was afraid of being bit. She had no confidence. She told me we needed to use a muzzle. I knew this was a bad idea. I should have gotten up and told her I would bring Genny back when my regular vet was there. But I didn’t. 

Genny had never been muzzled and it put her a state of distress. The vet gave her a seditive via injection and it was painful. That coupled with the muzzle, threw Genny in a traumatized state. It scared the crap out of her, literally. I think it caused an instant stroke. Her body went limp instantly, her tongue hung out and her eyes went vacant. I could hear her breathing though. Only then did the muzzle come off for the rest of the procedure. 

The only bright spot is I held her as she died. It was the least I could do for her. 

The idea of controlling the death of the pet is just that, an idea. I chose this because I put my sixteen year old dog to sleep in late August and it was the compassionate procedure that everyone thinks of. That’s because a compassionate competent professional performed the procedure. 

If the practitioner says to muzzle your dog and your dog has never been muzzled, do not do it. 

Find another practitioner. 


The smile I’ll miss

  
 This is Fay Taylor. She was born September 18, 1999. She died today.

She was a constant companion to my daughter and me. A fantastic watch dog, a sweet love bug, and a horrible flirt. Fay never met a man she didn’t love. She was smart and also smiled. It was one of the things that made her so special. 

When you get a puppy you never think into the future to this day. It has been so terribly sad.

Namaste, my friend. 

Love,

Pamela


Fear and it’s side effects. 

  
When we are uncomfortable, when we are anxious, when we are in pain, when we feel like a victim, we are often coming from a position of fear. We fear what we can’t control. 

We fear the aquistion and retention of love.

We fear pain.

We fear death.  
Almost all of our actions come from one of these three fears. 

Someday, I’ll write a thesis on this, for now I’ll let you ponder it.

The remedy to fear is to remind yourself that you are wholly loved right now without regard to anything that you do, what your roles are, how much you’ve accumulated, how you appear, what your knowledge is, how old you are, or whether or not another single person knows you exist. 
By virtue of being on this planet, you were designed. 

You are made of love. 

Here’s the important question:

What will you do with this love?

 
Namaste, my friend. 

Love,

Pamela


You can lead a seeker to detachment, but…

  

I’ve found myself swirling around, not getting much accomplished. I think it’s because of the German in me that I have a strong focus on production. I have goals, I know what to do, and yet.. I’m bogged down by some fermentation that’s going on. I think I’m at another cross road. I find that I’m being pulled, or perhaps shoved, to reevaluate what I want… Again.

I’ve admitted that what is most important to me is my spiritual journey. It’s above all my creative endeavors. It’s above any material need. As cliche as it sounds, I understand life is brief. If you’re a parent, there’s a surreal loss of time. And a fast forwarding of it. Perhaps because one falls into a routine that is required, or feels required, to be even remotely successful at the position. 

I know what I want to accomplish, and yet, I hesitate. Allowing old coping mechanisms to reenter my life, likely because this is new territory for me, and frankly I’m scared. I’m lonely. I wish so much that I had an ally who could walk with me down this path. 

I am aware that my spiritual path has taken me by the hand and left me at the feet of detachment. There’s no where else to sanely go.

And, ultimately, that’s what unconditional love is. To love without judgment or expectation. It’s an odd thing, this idea of a reciprocal love. This idea of equal exchange when it comes to love. We place the concept of fairness onto love, but ultimately, it is in the giving, the free giving of love, that fills us with the love we need.  

This is a practice. There are a thousand distractions that pull us from love. Sometimes I have to practice love minute by minute. I have to pull myself out of my ego, my mess of self pity, my lack of confidence, and point myself in the direction of love.

The practice of love given freely and indiscriminately (and this must include yourself,) is the only way to have enough. 

Practicing love allows me to detach, feel complete, and confident about who I am. I am then so much more capable of helping others be who they are.  

Practicing now…

Namaste, my friends.

Love, 

Pamela


This death thing. 

If you live long enough, you will lose someone you love. 

I really hate that part. 

The thing about death is, you can’t negotiate it. There’s life and then there’s not. There’s life and then there’s nothing. This nothingness feels so hollow. So cruel. So unforgiving. It is always consistent in it’s nothingness. 

The loss of my step mother has me considering the rituals surrounding death. We had a very typical funeral. A beautiful ceremony. A gorgeous coffin, my father chose the perfect color which I can only describe as a cross of rose and a soft gold depending on the way the light was shining on it. She didn’t look like herself. Her hair, usually worn in soft curls, was very straight. Her glasses did not rest on her face properly. She didn’t look like she was sleeping. It was good in a way, that her body did not represent her in life. It helped to reinforce the reality that she was no longer with us. 

One of my professors described grief like a horizontal spiral. The top of each circle representing anguish and the bottom,  relief. But a path between the two exists as we travel along. I find that I am raw. I’m sensitive to triggers. The childhood pain from the loss of my mother is coming up. The impending loss of others I love is coming up. I find I’m not organized. Not motivated yet working like a dog, without reward.  I keep losing things and misplacing things. I’m lost. 

And this damn sorrow lies just beneath the surface all the time. 

There’s no where to go but through it. 

Namaste, my friends.

Love, 

Pamela