Someday we will be whales.
We headed to Erik's parents house. I was so excited. I knew that that night I would be able to see my baby. Even though we get there late most Fridays, I'm still super excited to see her. She has been sick for the past few months, in September she took antibiotics for pneumonia, and most recently she has not been eating. When we got there I was hoping that Erik's mom was going to give us good news that she had her appetite back, but when we got there she said that my love was not doing well, and that there was an appointment set up for her for the following day, Saturday.
Saturday morning: I'm feeling super resistant to wanting to take her, I shrugged it off, and we went to the vet. When we got there, they had a little room for her all ready with a blanket on the floor. The doctor came in, sat on the floor and comfortably did her exam. Sonnie was perfect. The doctor asked her questions, we answered, then she strongly insisted that we let her do an abdominal ultrasound on Sonnie. Judging by how strongly she felt she needed to do one, I agreed almost immediately. As she led my baby away on a plastic leash provided by the vet, I hollered after her that I loved her and that I'd be right there waiting for her. To my surprise, doctor came in quite soon. I felt a bit of relief. She asked if I wanted to come in a take a look. I thought, how sweet, and very educational. I went in, the room was dark, and baby was very obediently on her back. I told her that I loved her, and I smiled. The doctor began showing me things on the ultrasound screen, and telling me that the frosty grey areas that I was seeing were normal. Then she moved to another section on Sonnie's tummy, and showed me a big black circle, and she told me that this was absolutely not normal, and that it most likely is cancer of the liver.
Good to bad. Happy to wrecked. Safe to scared. I can hear my heart beating. No way. My lip starts to quiver. I'm trying to keep a strong face.
Then the doctor hugged me.
Tears are uncontrollably falling.
We went back to the room. She said she was almost positive about the cancer. But...
But she cannot say for sure. Not without a biopsy.
Yes! A biopsy! That's what we will do, and then we will all find out that this was just a terrible scare, and we will fix her appetite, and all will be well again! There is HOPE!
We schedule to come back Tuesday.
Tuesday: We go in and a different doctor sees her, Dr. G. She is very warm to my baby. She also came right in and sat on the floor, and did her full exam. Sonnie was perfect. She said that Sonnie was severely dehydrated, and that she wanted to put her on a IV for the rest of that day, and the entire following day. I eagerly agreed, whatever it took. She also said that Sonnie's age did not seem appropriate for a biopsy, and that after we get her hydrated, then we will see where she is and how to make her better. GREAT!
I sat on the floor at the vets with her the rest of that day. We hung out. We talked. We watched While You Were Sleeping on my phone. Sonnie was perfect.
Wednesday: We come prepared to the vets, with blankets, floor pads, a phone charger, and comfortable clothes. I sat on the floor with her for the whole day. Sonnie was perfect. She let them do what ever they needed. And in between we snuggled, we listened to Christmas music, watched A Christmas Carol, and watched While You Were Sleeping, again. She did great. I have no vocabulary articulate enough to describe how proud of her I am. Sonnie was perfect. Dr.G said to come in the next day to see how well she took to the IV hydration. We went home.
Thursday: We go to the vets and I get comfortable on the floor with her. I was laying and snuggling with her. I was talking with Erik's mom about having Thanksgiving and making pies. I was petting Sonnie's ears, imagining our little Thanksgiving together. Then Dr.G came in, greeted my baby with such care. She did a quick visual exam and said that it looked like there was fluid in her abdomen. She wanted to do an ultrasound. The team of ladies at this animal clinic were amazing. They so gracefully got my baby up on the table. The doctor let me hold Sonnie's head. I looked Sonnie in the eyes and told her how good she was. I calmly brushed her face with my hand. It felt so much like she was seeing into me. Dr.G quickly had us look to the monitor. She was correct and that there was fluid in Sonnie's abdomen. She looked at her liver, and she said that there were two tumors about 10cm. She told us that all of her liver was infected, and that there was only this tiny island of healthy liver in this sea of black spots. I was trying so hard to not react that way I felt, which was frantic screaming. I looked at Sonnie, and the look she gave me was almost like she already knew, like she already understood, like she knew that I needed to know, and now that I did she could relax. The doctor started to tell us that these tumors could burst and then she could bleed internally to death, and that this would be very painful. She said that she could come to the house the next day and we could put Sonnie to sleep there.
They rolled her over on to her tummy, still on the table, I held Sonnie and sobbed. She was perfect.
We got back to the house, she went to her bed, and so did I. I laid in her bed with her snuggling, crying, holding. I just kept repeating “I love you”. For hours.
How could she possibly be this sick?
How will I live with out her? I don't even know what this world is like without her in it.
How could I be the one to cut her life off? I don't want to kill my dog.
I started praying. I prayed harder than I ever have in my whole life. I prayed that if this was her time, then please, God, take her. I am not God. I should not have to end a life. Especially my baby's life. Please, God, if this is her time, then take her. Set her free. ...And he did.
That night was rough. I had been sleeping on the living room floor with her, as I do when she isn't well. She could not sleep. I was there to give her my spot when she adjusted. She slept on my pillow for the first time in her life. I held her hand, or rested my hand on her all night.
When we woke up in the morning she was weak. I laid on the floor with her all morning. I kept telling her “I love you”. I looked into her perfect little face and told her it was okay to go. It hurt, but I felt like she needed to hear it. If she was holding back because of me, in pain, then she didn't need to. The last thing I would want is for my baby to feel pain. It was okay to let go. She changed beds, I followed. Sonnie spent her whole life with my loving face, in her face, and that's where I was going to stay. I laid on the floor snuggling her. Holding her. Her breathing changed. Pretty soon we all could feel it. We wrapped her in my favorite plush purple blanket. I, still by her side, was holding her hand. She was slipping away, I kept reassuring her that it was okay. That what she was going through was okay. I looked her in the eyes, deep, repeating “I love you”. “I love you” was the last thing that she heard.
I have never hurt so bad. It felt like a canyon sized gash had just been ripped open in the center of my chest. I laid there next to her, falling apart, telling her that I will always be her friend, and not to forget the deal we made about someday being whales, swimming on the bottom of the ocean together, forever. But in that life we will be the same species. And live for hundreds of years together.
Sonnie is my soul mate. Our souls are fused together, forever. Someday we are going to be together again, but that life isn't going to be short.
She has been gone for 10 days now. Somehow it already feels like eternity.
But at the same time it feels so unreal. Even now, writing this, it feels like maybe I'm crazy, maybe it didn't happen. Do I just have a really crazy imagination? Am I that much of a creative writer? Is all of this just a dream? I often have really detailed dreams, this is one of them, right?
No. She is gone. And this hole really is here. And my eyes are still puffy, and I still hurt. And I feel alone. I feel like nobody understands how I feel. How are there people roaming this earth with the same gash, this same pain that I feel, and I have never seen it. I never hear about it? How can I not spot them on the street? I feel like I look different. I don't feel the same. I feel changed.
I feel like such a fool for not knowing. I thought I had more time. I was already planning her Christmas presents. I am SO SAD. Even while typing this, I am a wet sobbing mess. I don't know what to do. I have never felt anything like this. Everyday I am in disbelief. Everyday I have to tell myself that this really did happen. This has been the worst two weeks of my life. I miss her so much.
Wrapped in my favorite purple blanket, still wearing the hot pink rhinestone and pearl studded collar I made her, I painted her nails for the last time with pink sparkles. We buried her in Erik's parents back yard. In the spring we are going to plant a wisteria tree for her.
One of my best friends told me that this hole that I feel will never go away, but one day, I will be able to navigate around it. So in the mean time, I hope this winter stays cold and gloomy, and lets me process this loss in my own way, which ever that is.
