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.