Story: Misty Remembers

June 8, 2014

I woke up this morning with nothing to get me out of bed. A mile walk before breakfast sounded grueling. I finally did it anyway. I debated going to church, Metropolitan Community Church or Coast Vineyard and neither one was attractive, given all the people in either setting that I would either have to actually interact with anyone, especially strangers.

I dread going out today. It’s Sunday and I know I should feel much differently – I’m 62 and don’t want to be around crowds of people – I’m much too young to become a recluse. I told a friend of mine long ago that if I weren’t involved with the church I would be a recluse, and that seems to be what has happened.

I have no friends. Poor me. But really, I can’t think of anyone to call to ask to go to the movies. I don’t like going by myself, but I have no choice.  I try to converse with fellow movie-goers afterwards and no one really wants to engage in a talk about the movie’s pros and cons. Sure, I could call my sister, who really is on a different path, being much more sociable, well liked, and funny than I. Then there’s me, who avoids people as much as possible.

I’m sitting in my bedroom typing this thiking maybe I could pull writring over my head and hide. Chruchill said that unless he wrote he would be haunted by the black dog, depression, and his only recourse was to type, and he wrote a dozen books, he was so desparate to stay away from that creature. After the blackouts, he kept his windows covered. I’m not sure what this signifies, but it does sound a little creepy.

I can’t say I don’t have friends. I love my housemate, as a brother, and we share many interests. Walking, traveling, disagreeing about politics are not among those interests. We lost our beloved corgis when Misty died two months ago and Penny a year prior. I’m dying to have another dog. I want to pet it and take it for walks and play with it and maybe it would get a ball when I threw it, and people would ooh over the multi-colored coat, taking the focus of me and onto something a stranger and I would have in common right off, a love for dogs.

I never felt like this before until we acquired our corgis, who were with us for 7 years, or more, but I lost count. Every time I see a dog I want to get down on my knees and give it a hug. The cute white mutt that Crystal takes around the block, I want to pick it up and take it inside, and talk to it, and give it a snack, and let it lie next to me in bed for my nap, and then get up for another walk when I take Katie back to her owner.

I used to talk with Misty when I would hold her, and only bopped her on the nose once but she thought I was playing then, even though I was angry with her. She came into my bedroom and would sit next to my chair looking up at me with this endearing smile, and I would turn and give her a good pet, behind the ears, all over her coat, and tell her that I had things to do and that I would regret not being with her more. She would then get inside the closet doors, lie on a cushion, and watch me work.

How I would give her that opportunity now. She was beautiful to the end and I fight thinking about her dying in our living room. I thought she was barking because she wanted snacks and so I would oblige, not realizing that she was calling me to her side. I’m not feeling well, Daddy. I don’t know why I feel this way, but could you come over and comfort me somehow. I’m eating the treats because you’re giving them to me because maybe you know how I feel, so I eat the treats hoping that how tired and confused I am would pull me out of the hole I seem to be falling in .

I started coughing and then wretching and I knew something was very wrong. I started spitting up the treats you gave me. I guess that’s not what I needed after all, but I thought you were giving them to me so I’d feel better and now I feel worse. I kept coughing up what was in my stomach and started choking on the stuff. I’ll get up and go out the doggie door so there won’t be a mess, but I collapse inches from the little door. I don’t want to make a mess inside, but now I can’t get up, but I’m still coughing. Yes, Daddy, come down and talk with me. Pet me behind the ears, although I don’t think that’s going to change how I feel.

I’m getting weaker, but I stop coughing and Daddy puts a towel under my head at some point and I’m panting. Why do I feel this way? What is happening to me? Daddy carries me, my head covered with my coughed up treats, and I’m so limp I can’t stay in his hands and I slip out of his hands onto the ground so Daddy picks me up again and puts me on my favorite blanket, in my favorite place, which is being a passenger as he drives. Maybe now I’ll feel better. I can’t even think. When I do it passes through my mind quickly. I wasn’t like this before. I can tell I’m being carried, wrapped in my favorite blanket, and I’m in the vet’s office. Oh, please, Dr. Lindsay, make me feel better like all the other times I  visited and you gave me medicine or a shot and I would walk better, and even play, but I didn’t want to get up on high places, like a bed, or being held long.

I’m being laid on the floor still in my favorite blanket and my breathing is very shallow, but I want  to breathe deeper and I want to stand up and I want to feel the pull of my leash because it’s time to go outside. I want to be free to run around in people yard and get Daddy so upset with me that he uses a loud voice. I’ll go behind this bush and find things to eat, like poop that is so much more tastey than the dry dog food I get, which you can’t understand.  Tke me in the car for a walk along the grass overlooking the beach, but don’;t  let me get close to the big dogs. If I stay closer to the trash can I’ll be up where there dogs aren’t walking around. I don’t mind smelling and being smelled, that’s what dogs do, but that’s enough, and you pick me up and I feel so much safer.

I know you liked to lie on the grass and enjoy the sound of the waves, but really, I’m not into that at all, so I set next to your leg. Then get up and sit harder on young leg. Then I say this is ridiculous so I sit on your head, which finally gets you up off the grass and walking again. You really should have learned by now that I’m walking you, because I know you like the exercise. But then you stop and talk with a neighbor and I sit up watching, but then walk a few more feet towards the house and sit down waiting for you. I do that again and again, until I’ almost half a block away. Alrighght here you come, finally, and I stand and whip around and start running for the house and you’re calling me to stop but I’m not having any of that.

I don’t care if you scold me when we get home. We’re home and that’s what matters. Now I get to sit in your lap and oh, 20 seconds, get down and run out the doggie door onto the porch, wanting you to come out with me and you run around a chair and pretetend I’,m hiding and then you run around and grab me and pet me roughly. Do it again. And again. Please. Okay, five minutes is enough it’s time to go back inside, so side. Panhbeef chew or one of those really hard things to eat that I have to chew much too long and get so little satisfaction from it. I go to find you and want you to look at me but you and grandma are busying watching tv so I go in my corner and fall asleep. Finally you turn off the tv and are careful not to make noise and wake me up, but I’ll click click down the hall before you’re asleep. I’ll go in my favorite sleeping area between grandma’s dresser and the bathroom, so every night she has to look for me so she doesn’t step on me. But that’s only one of the dozen places I go to sleep that night.

Need some water. Gotta pee. Walk around, sleep. Need some water, got to pee and I know grandma will know I’ve gone outside because the flapping doggie door wakes her up and she’s listening for me to come back in. But sometimes I like going down the dirt path, especially when the moon is bright. Sometimes I’ll sit on the patio so long that grandma gets up to see if I’m okay and I wish she would come outside with me and see the moon and the stars, but grandma pulls my collar gently to get me back inside, and she goes back to bed. So I sit in your doorway and then lie down and sleep since you’re not getting up, and go back to sleep and then I’m thirsty again.

I can hear a lot of movement around me in the morning, but please, I’m not a morning person. Sometimes I’ll sleep until 10 oclock and when I get a little hunry IU’ll get up and you’ll hear me coming down the hall. Time for a walk, but you’re not there. Grandma isn’t there either, but my bowl of food is full and my waterdish is fresh, so I sniff, drink,  and then go out the back door where I sit on the patio. I get really hot so I move and it’s still hot, so I go back inside to sleep in the cool closet in your room, which lasts until I hear something outside and have to bark it away.

That worked and I hear a key in the doorway. Someone’s home and I’m so happy I’m jumping up and down. You say hello to me and get down on the floor to pet me and I’m so happy you’re home. Pick me up, sit in the couch with me, hold me close and talk to me. You’re home. I’m so happy, but then grandma calls you and you sit at the table. You don’t give me anything from the table for years until one night you give me pizza crust that is so yummy I want more. If not tonight, maybe tomorrow night you’ll have something else for me. I like licking off your plates. Nummm. I hear you say that they don’t need to be washed now and grandma says, yes they do, but they’re so clean we could just put them back in the cupbard like this and then you both laugh. I love to hear you laugh. It makes me laugh, but not like Penny. She laughed with a huff huff huff for years until  you realied she was laughinhing. She was so happy when you could laugh with her.  Time for our walk after dinner and onto a repeat of last night.

I want to do all that again, but I’m lying on my favorite blanket on the floor of Dr. Lindsay’s office. Someone asks if you want me to be picked up and put on the table and you say no because you’re on the floor with me, but you forget about grandma can’t bend down on the floor like you can. I want to see grandma. Maybe she’ll make me feel better, but I’m still on the floor and the doctor is feeling around my leg. I feel a shot and there’s a warmth going through me. I finally feel better.

Well, that was a weeper. Put on my sunglasses, walked to the farmers Market and bought a curry dish for me and a stir fry for Moreen. By the time I got back my eyes weren’t red any longer. We’re waiting to watch the Tony Awards. Get to see snippets of the plays in NY we’ll never see.

June 9, 2014.

Moreen and I talked about me getting another dog last night. I want it to be my responsiblitiy and expense. So expnsive with the vet we had, and so far to drive. I’ll use a vet closer to home, cheaper food, cheaper treats.

As you can see from the above