Get out of my space!

Bestie came round and helped me clip some shrubs in preparation for the super typhoon Hagibis raging through this weekend. We went to Hut, @hut3939, our local cafe with a tiny doggie cafe space outside, and i treated her to lunch as a thank you. Her wee poodle Jin loves my babies, and enjoys the free run of house and garden when he comes round with ne'er a problem, all seniors together, but he gets anxiety when food is involved. Baring his teeth, or what is left of them (tell me about it :( ...) and snarling to tell Sherlock to stay out of his space when mummy is offering delish delights.
Sherlock is a pushy wee guy when it comes to food, he had to make sure he wasn't overlooked or forgotten, so his instinct is to muscle in to the source, but here you can see he's got the message, licking his lips in appeasement and calming signals. Not much room in the cafe to back off, but two mamas and plenty of treats, so all is well. And the lunch tofu burger is delicious!

Homecoming

 After a day together with family and friends dropping by, we held the wake, all of us sleeping together in one room one last time. In the morning we laid her out in her wee box, covered her in flowers, and drove off to the Totsuka crematorium. Due to the recent typhoon damage here in Yokohama (the breakwater and dyke collapsed) our usual private crematorium was so damaged with heavy seawater flooding, they can no longer cater for larger pets...

 They weighed her in, box, bathtowel, flowers and all at 10.1kg. What a tiny setter, she gave her all to be with us just that little bit longer...
and so we waited, praying for her, and after an hour or so 

we were able to pick up her brittle, clean little bones and arrange them in the urn, the head on top, and carry her safely home with us. It's a very big urn, they don't offer the pulverization option, and they wanted to keep her head intact, so she has great presence on top of her wee cage with Sofie and Chiaro di Luna, their little memorial chains gracing her ornate white box.

When we got home Dr Koyama, our vet, had sent a beautiful bouquet of flowers. In all the months of caring, I could not have been so strong without his warm and expert advice, giving me just the right amount of encouragement and support to see it through to a natural passing. I would call him up early first thing in the morning, bawling my eyes out as I asked for advice, and on request, he was willing to come by at least three times even though it's quite a drive, which helped me to carry her just that little bit longer, knowing if it really got too bad or urgent, he would be there to catch us and hold us safe. I would end up cancelling my appointments for house-calls, but I knew he understood what Claire really needed and based his decisions and advice on a seasoned knowledge of ageing pets, and I am so grateful. Claire and I feel blessed in his care. Nothing like being home again. 

The ebbtide

I haven't been able to blog these past six months or so, although I am aware how important talking about canine senility, wavering senses and encroaching death is...
I was just so busy sitting by Claire, and too sad to write. Now the words seem cathartic...to look back on her last day, and take stock.

I myself had to go to the doctor for a sudden bout of cystitis yesterday, and as the antibiotics kicked in I had a bit more strength to wash Claire down thoroughly, changing her dressings again, and I put some myrrh and marjoram essential oils in coconut oil carrier, remembering its soothing and antibiotic qualities for her decaying skin, and wiped her down finally with that.

It's been so frustrating with her skin popping open, clumps of skin and fur disintegrating and peeling off like orange peel, her skin splitting open like a baked potato at her hips, the bedsores spilling puss and blood, and bursting and oozing again at fresh neighboring sites as you try to wipe with gauze and keep it clean. I was using breastmilk pads to protect her hipbones from the weight, but both sides were raw. The vet said moving her was the most painful, so in the final days I gave up turning her, and just kept changing the pads, becoming expert at lifting her butt with one hand, and swiping in new fresh towels, pads and pet-sheets with the least disturbance to her. Fortunately the vet said in her state, not much awareness of pain was involved.

This last day her breathing was labored. Only the bottom of her rib cage moved, all else immobile and semi-rigid. In the evening after an hour or so she miraculously pooped and peed it all messy again, but I guess it had just felt so good, she relaxed into it. Not been eating for twenty or so days, no strength to drink water for eight, just drops to wet her tongue and clear her nose, she was burning her fat and muscle tissues up. So once more cleaning and wiping...

...and then, sleeping by her, holding her eyes shut, those little blind eyes. I had bought eye-drops to wash out the mucus that was coming up, but on her final day it was all too much, too sticky, so I just held them shut and sang her lullabies softly, running my fingertips gently from nose to spine to tail-tip and back, to remind her of her connections to earth and universe and clear her channels. 

I woke suddenly in the night, and checked her breathing, as I have done so many times this past month, and she was gone...but still warm, and so we sat by her and talked, and I fell asleep again. It was the ebb tide that carried her out. 

The long way home

The house is heavy with necrosis and death, but Claire is still a candle flame in the darkness, defying the encroaching blackness...
I couldn't euthanize her, it seemed like a final abandonment, an abdication of the weight of her existence after this journey of caring for her six month gradual decline, any loved moment one to bring peace in my arms, and every moment one she harbored in her heart to live longer...
Tomorrow, i say, and tomorrow, and still she lingers. I speak to her of setters searching the land ahead for birds, of scouting into the unknown to bring me knowledge, of my joy of her coming to me when it is my time to go, to lead me safely, but still she will not go. We cling together and cry. Soon all will be well, soon.  Her body has begun to decay, but her spirit is great. Don't fight my darling, run free and be with me in my heart, where you have always been. There is more than this.