It Only Took 3 Weeks

In July of 2018, it only took 3 weeks for my whirlwind world to stop turning.  At the time, it felt like a sudden explosion had blown my support structure out from under me; though, when I looked back it was pretty obvious that the fuse on that catastrophe had been burning away for quite some time.

The details involved in those three weeks change drastically depending on who you ask to narrate the story, but the end result is still the same.  By the end of those 21 days, I was single again and a full time fur mom to Target, Comet, cats, lizard and fish tank.

Over the years, I have said a number of times that the life we had built was not constructed for one person to handle.  This was pointed out, most often, when I was left on my own to handle it.  Now, the idea of that being my reality 24/7, 365 days a year produced a level of panic I have never experienced before.  Every day felt like that dream you have where you’re falling, only I was wide awake.

What if somebody got sick?

When would I find the time for everybody and a full time job?

Who would take Comet out running? He definitely needs it.

How was I supposed to manage all of the responsibility on top of a completely broken heart?

Looking back at this time, not having any choices ended up working in my favor.  To lie in bed and disintegrate into my grief was not an option.  I needed to be able to go to work to afford my life, kick my butt out of bed to walk a bouncing adolescent dog, and feed myself so I had enough strength to manage the above responsibilities. 

I was again, as I had been in so many other moments of my life, very blessed to have dogs.

It was at the 3 week mark that my worst fears started to come to pass.  Comet got sick.

While we hope our dogs never get sick, there is always the hope that if they do, it will be a quick trip to the vet, some meds and R and R and then it’s off to the races. 

This was much worse.

 Comet was heart sick.

            It had happened a few times before when Target, Comet and I had been left to our own devices.  Comet would realize that I was a poor substitute for the man in his life and refuse food.  Normally, this wasn’t much of an issue.  There would only be a few days to contend between when Comet would stop eating and when his routine would return to normal.  We would just feed him a little extra afterwards to make up for his hunger strike.

This time, it was a much more serious problem.

After three days, of putting his food down and leaving it, I went straight to our veterinarian to rule out any kind of physical issue. 

Maybe he had a sore tooth that made his kibble too hard? (I’ve never hoped so hard in my life that one of my animals had a cavity).

Comet was given a clean bill of health and I was given ideas that could lead to solutions.  We left.

Now, I resorted to google and online resources to help me.  On online forums, I would find people recommending eclectic mixes of home remedies and scientific discoveries. 

I also heard the words spoken by so many who have never encountered a fatally stubborn dog:

“He’ll eat when he gets hungry enough”.

After a few days of trying every logical solution I could find, I resorted to the tried and true trick mothers have been using on their kids since the beginning of time:

Bribery. 

I ordered in take out.

My new single life had driven me back to a place of healthy eating, but I ordered in a burger and two large orders of French fries (…you know… for Comet…).

I made sure he was watching me put my food on my plate and then I took a long, greasy fry and put it in my mouth.  I “mmmm”ed in a way that felt way to grossly provocative and then looked the other way while I casually tossed it on the floor.

Target got there first. 

I hadn’t realized that, while Comet seemed only mildly interested, Target was staring deliriously at my pile of grease.  It was ok if Comet wasn’t eating, really it was!  Target was front and center waiting to pick up his slack.  That’s what big brothers are for, right?

I made eye contact with Comet, who wagged gently.  He still loved me.  But he still wasn’t going to eat.

Time to up the ante.

I turned the entire package of French fries upside down into his bowl, signed to Target to stay, and put the bowl down in front of Comet.  The fries hung over the edge of the bowl, crispy on the outside and light and fluffy on the inside.  The salt glistened in the light and the peanut oil dribbled down onto the stainless steel rim of the bowl.  Target held fast at my command, but his drool slathered down his chest and onto the floor as he watched Comet, passibely, observe his bowl of treats.

Comet drooped his head to the bowl and took a sniff. At my encouragement, he snaked his tongue out to one of the fries gently and licked, what could have only been, one crystal of salt off of the nearest fry.  He sighed, swung away from me and the bowl, and trotted off down the hallway to his bed.

Target groaned in disbelief.

I picked the bowl up and threw three of the fries to Target and disposed of the rest.

This was more serious than I thought.

Over the next few weeks I tried everything I could to convince Comet to eat.  I invited my male friends over in an effort to trick him with testosterone.  Maybe, he just needed a new man in his life.  The first time, Comet was a few bites in before he realized my ruse and from that moment on, that friend was cause for suspicion and he inspected and rejected every other man food sent in his direction.

I invited my female friends over to love him into hunger.  Comet would happily shake a paw, spin, touch, jump, bark and give hugs, but he would not take a treat.

Meanwhile, my already skeletal dog was becoming emaciated and I was starting to panic.  I was still waiting for him to “get hungry enough” as the masses had assured me he would.  I put the food down the same every night, only to end up picking it up again when Target had finished his dinner and come for Comet’s.  We visited the vet again who surveyed Comet with eyes so worried that when he opened his mouth to tell me, I burst into tears and he stopped. 

This was the point where people started to tell me that Comet might be better going somewhere else.  Starting over without the memories.

That night I sat on the kitchen floor like I had done hundreds of times since my charade of singularity had started.  Sitting in bed made me feel like an invalid, while the couch made me feel too normal.

(See detailed instructions for seating arrangements in my next blog project: “How To Sit:  Guide For Eccentrics”)

Target watched me until he was sure I wasn’t going to get up and go anywhere and then he fell asleep nearby.  Comet sat across the room watching me curiously.

“I’m in an impossible situation, pal” I told him sadly, ”I’m going to have to make a decision for us really soon.” 

Comet came over from across the room, sighed and lay down with his head resting in my lap and I kept talking to him.

I told him all kinds of things, some that I remember and some that probably weren’t important and Comet listened quietly until I couldn’t think of anything else to say and just sighed in sadness and then he stood up.  He turned his tail towards me and backed his frail frame towards me, tipped himself backwards into my lap.  I struggled to catch him properly and shifted uncomfortably.  He had lost a lot of weight, but he was still almost 25 lbs and I wasn’t as strong as I should have been either.  Comet didn’t seem to notice and closed his eyes dreamily, while I awkwardly cradled him.

“Ugh!” I grumbled laughing, “You’re such a weirdo!”

I don’t know how long I sat there with this big ridiculous dog in my lap, but as I did, I realized that the truth was, I didn’t really know Comet.

Target and I were one in the same, really.  I could tell when Target was happy, sad, or even if he had a fever before I touched his tummy, ears or even saw a vet.  He was my heart dog and I spent every second with him. I could read him like no other person on this planet could read him.

I loved Comet, but our dynamic was vastly different.  Comet needed different things out of our life together and up until that point, somebody else had been providing those for him.

So, there I was, sitting on my cold kitchen floor, with a 25 lb lap dog, lazing in my arms and it dawned on me how lonely it must be to be him.  I had been adamant that his routine stay exactly the same, even if it killed me..  But, there it was.  The person he relied on to complete his routine was never coming back.  The moments were different and rather than trying to make new moments, our moments, I was trying to squeeze Comet back into a life we no longer had and a life of Comet’s that I barely ever saw in action.

He wasn’t bummed out because of our situation.  I was bumming him out!

I hoisted Comet out of my lap and got to work.

Since, the addition of Comet, we had two separate routines to fit the care of the dogs into our lives.  Now, rather than trying to balance two routines for each dog, I scrapped both and created a unified dog/human/everybody else balance.

Within three days of my realization, Comet was attempting to eat his dinner.  It would take a week before his appetite was back to full strength, but he got there.

Meanwhile, the new routine gave me confidence in my ability to take care of both dogs out in public and this created a domino effect that worked towards relaxing Target’s reactivity.  We still did some things separately, of course, but for the most part we participated in life as a family.

When he became part of our pack, Comet really let his personality shine.  His goofy innocence and gentle nature shone through all of the anxiety and auxiliary energy that had existed before.  He discovered that if he climbed on the cat scratching post, three feet off the ground, then he could look out the big picture window in the living room all day while I was at work and watch the world go by.  I had purchased a back rest pillow for blog writing in bed.  It was a fairly common sight for me to wake up in the morning to Comet using the backrest next to me like he was a person.

It became very obvious, very quickly that Comet loves with a wide-eyed innocence that makes you laugh, even when laughing is the last thing you want to do.

These moments in my life, with Comet and dealing with everything that happened were some of the darkest I’ve experienced so far (hopefully, that I’ll ever deal with) and the fact that Comet felt it so hard still makes me sad for him.

However, it’s hard for me to know if I would have ever found my strength and confidence if it wasn’t for him and the lesson he taught me.  While Target was always so trusting of me to take care of him, Comet needed me to convince him that I was right for the job.  Somewhere along the lines of convincing him, I believed it myself. 

Realizing that I could be that person for Comet, proved that I was strong enough to survive anything that this horrible situation threw at me.

In the end, it only took 6 weeks.