Margot had a nightmare a few days ago. That she was playing with a friend and an aggressive dog came at her, tried to bite her. She explained.
It was Alice. But I didn’t know her. I mean, she wasn’t our pet. I had never seen her before. But it was her. And she tried to bite me.
I wasn’t asleep when Margot pressed her body in between Andy and me in the middle of the night, telling us about her dream. I have had trouble sleeping since we got the news about Alice one week ago. She has chronic kidney disease.
My heart actually aches and tears come at really inconvenient times. I do not talk myself out of feeling sad but I sometimes wish I could pull it together. I’ve had long nights where, no matter how hard I try, I cannot turn off the painful and detailed imagining of life without Alice. I am very aware of the privilege we have in a diagnosis. And the privilege we have in not knowing much beyond right now, where she is happy and able. Oh and the privilege of so much information and easy access to it.
Andy went fishing with friends last weekend and I cancelled all plans. We stayed home, my daughters and me.
We:
:: Watched the leaves change color and fall, the sky tumble from bluebird to graphite and back again. Changed from tank tops to puffy coats and back again.
:: Listened to the wind and rain, read books, watched Girls Just Want to Have Fun (twice), sold our couch on Criagslist and made a fort of the living room.
:: Argued. The girls either played together like the river’s current or like sparring elk. I either parented with a swan’s grace or that of a badger. We lacked middle ground and sat right in the real, messy feelings. We hiked many times, twice at Margot’s suggestion when things felt tight and hot, like we needed space. It worked. We spread out, took turns running, came back together.
:: Gardened. Piled weeds in the field and food on the kitchen floor. Canned roasted corn salsa, salsa verde and plum jam. Still so much to do.
^photo by Ruby^
Thinking about the seasons. In life, in a year. The bounty and generosity; the disappointment and unpredictability. I know it is popular to speak of ‘living in the moment’ and I know some roll eyeballs at the impracticality, inconvenience. But we must do it. We must pick tomatoes when they are ripe, walk up hills when our kids want to and kiss our dog’s fuzzy gray cheeks. And we must be gentle with ourselves and trust in the importance of when we have to ‘live in the moment’ of dishwasher unloading and bill paying and saying just one minute to our kids. Being present doesn’t equate joy or ease. Being present equates whatever it is we are.
I took the kids to the university homecoming parade last weekend. We stood a block from my dad’s childhood home and I remembered being my daughters’ ages, there. I noticed Ruby was holding her breath. I asked her about it.
Oh mama, when I hear drums and horns BANG BANG in real life I feel like it happens in my heart. And I can’t breathe. It’s so awesome.
25 Comments
I’m so sorry about Alice. I hear you about being present which doesn’t always mean feeling joy. Just being whatever we are. When my gran died last year I felt so sad but I remember finding comfort in not fighting that feeling. I remember thinking we hurt because we love. And that is a good thing. Love to you guys xxx
“Being present doesn’t equate joy or ease. Being present equates whatever it is we are.” Thank you!!
Wait! That posted before I was done! (Darn “smart” phone) I needed a reminder, after a rough week, that the present can be good, bad or ugly. And that’s ok because the next moment might be divine!
I am heartbroken for you and your Alice! A lot of good, bad and ugly. But mostly a whole lot of divine. Big hugs!!
It’s tough. I think about it all the time. Hometeam likes to drive the point home by getting acutely ill every 8 months or so. The natural order of things is for parents to die before their children. But dogs (pets) break this natural order, because they will go first. It’s an inevitability we accept when we bring our dogs home for the first time, but it’s an inevitability we get to be in denial about for a long, long time (if we’re lucky.)
Dogs are givers. They just give and give and give and give to the last second. And sometimes it can feel impossible to return what they’re giving. I think that’s why I take so many photos of my Hometeam, so that when I’m feeling like I haven’t given her everything possible that day, I look through some photos of all the time we’ve spent exploring outside in the sunshine and remember how much we’ve done and how much we do. After all, life can’t be wild open fields, endless ball throws and wild rabbits every day, even though that’s what we want for our dogs.
But! Alice’s life comes pretty close, probably as close as any dog in the world. Think of all her snowy runs and warm hearth evenings. Alice is wise, and you know she understands. Just look at her…she knows things. She has no fears or regrets or sadness. That’s just stuff we bear for them and I bet they feel a little sorry for us that we have to muddle with so many emotions and questions about things they just accept.
Anyway Nici what I’m trying to say is….I don’t think there’s any talking you out of this sadness, or anyone in your position. It’s our job to worry over our pals and deal with the sadness and it’s their job to run about, comfort us, and just be.
Sorry this is so long. It’s just lately I’ve been experiencing some loneliness, and Hometeam is my best friend, biggest giver, confidant, which in my mixed up human brain translates to: “what will happen when I lose her?!!?!?” So I feel you.
I’ve got all y’all and Alice on my mind. Love.
Melina
Hugs. Hugs. Hugs.
SO much said here that is from your heart. AND as usual your photos take your words and bring them to life.
Sweet Margot and here dream, she too has Alice on her mind…
My sweet Burb I have LOVED and lost 5 precious dogs in my adult life, every one of them bring smiles and tears to my face at any given moment…from my wisdom of loosing these beauties I tell you this no tears for them are ever at inconvenient times.
Will close with my favorite sentence from your post, “Oh mama, when I hear drums and horns BANG BANG in real life I feel like it happens in my heart. And I can’t breathe. It’s so awesome”
Love you so, Mom
I’m so sorry about Alice. I’m remembering losing my dog 8 years ago. Sometimes it seems so immediate still. Love on Alice as much as you can.
So sorry to hear about Alice.
Loved your post.
The last lines, “Oh mama, when I hear drums and horns BANG BANG in real life I feel like it happens in my heart. And I can’t breathe. It’s so awesome” had me in tears. Your writing is so beautiful, because it’s so true.
I grew up with dogs, but I haven’t had one in 20 years (College + nomadic 20’s + marriage and waiting until all our kids were born = no dog). We just got our first family puppy, and I had forgotten how completely AWESOME dogs are and what a PAIN IN THE ASS puppies are. I love her so much. I have had to deal with the pain of dogs getting older and it never gets easier. I know that my sweet baby Lucy will do the same one day. Blessings on your family and on sweet Alice. 🙂
So much love to your family in this season of change.
I had a cat that was my fur companion. He was the most familiar being to me for many years. More familiar than my family became in my time out in the world on my own, and now he is no longer here. Probably to think of a life without Alice feels quite helpless and without control. You’ll never be ready to say goodbye but the physical nature of our existence is brutal in that way. And with her goes a piece of your youth and innocence as well. She’s a living breathing loved and loving reminder of so many memories, time spent, and years passed- she’s known a connection with you and you with her that no person can ever. Without words and all with emotions and touch and love and being there. It would be weird if you weren’t in grief, not that you need validation.
Sounds like a lovely kind of weekend, in. xo
That last line got me. Really got me. That Ruby. I know that feeling. I, too, hold my breath to feel something grand, like a big percussive blast, banging in my chest. Funny, I realized I was holding my breath, waiting to finish reading for the BANGBANG! And when I breathed, the tears started. Here I sir, car running, in a parking spot downtown, awash in emotion. Live in the moment – be that a hike, a fort, a bill-pay or a full dishwasher. Thank you.
Oh Nici… am so so sorry to hear such news about Alice. Biggest hugs to you & scritches for her. Our Dewey is 14… grey overtakes his black more each day and he is nearly deaf, but somehow he always hears William’s truck pull into the neighborhood and meets him at the door. We know our days with him are few, but he is still here now and we love him up. And this, Being present doesn’t equate joy or ease. Being present equates whatever it is we are. gave me goosebumps… so very true.
xo
kwqrs
Oh Nici, I’m so sorry. We’re experiencing this with our sweet kitty cat too… and like you, we’re just trying to make the most of the days we have, with no idea when they’ll end.
If she’s not on a k/d diet and getting sub-cu fluids – those could help. There’s a quality of life issue there… how does she feel about a needle injection 1-3 times a week, but it’s an option.
All the best to you and your family…
Thank you so much
Having recently lost our dear old lady at 14 years old, I know the heartache in watching them decline…but the love they give is so endless. Here is a favorite quote that has brought me comfort, from Stevie Smith, “It is an amiable part of human nature, that we should love our animals; it is even better to love them to the point of folly, than not to love them at all.”
I am so glad you are writing through this. And thank you for sharing your process. Big hugs to you and Alice. xoxo
I need you in my life. So bad. All the time.
This = Yes, AMEN – “The girls either played together like the river’s current or like sparring elk. I either parented with a swan’s grace or that of a badger.”
I feel like in this current season with my boys this is so true of us, as well. Truthfully, I don’t even really know what middle ground would look or feel like. We just swing back and forth on our pendulum, and the momentum from the swing keeps us from knowing the center.
So sorry to hear about your sweet Alice. I’m so glad she is blessed to be with a family that will love and snuggle and appreciate her every moment possible.
Love your writing. The end.
And the Being In The Momentness is easiest with our dogs, I think. Alice is probably the boss of NOW at your house like Jada is at ours. In the nicest way possible, of course.
I never made an official rule of it, but it somehow happened that no matter how busy or late or on our way to do something else I’ve been, I’ve always dropped everything if Jada decides she wants to play.
I’ve been on my way out of the house, behind schedule for a midterm, carrying bags and hot tea and all kinds of other nonsense, when she’s run over and grabbed her big blue octopus squeaker toy and then just stopped everything I was doing to throw that weird 8 legged thing for her until she’s over it.
And then faced cuddled her until she ran to hide in the cave she dug out under the dietes.
Love our dogs 🙂
The Boss of NOW! Perfect. Your words always are. Love you lady.
The watermelon pic in your kitchen every time reminds me of, well, lady parts. In the same pretty way as an o’keefe painting. I had say it:) maybe it’s on purpose ?
And your home is lovely too!
It seems impossible that I’ve been reading these posts for five years. FIVE. And I keep coming back. You evolve, Nici. So many storytellers are stuck telling the same story over and over. When I started reading it was because our kids are the same age and your life/mothering resonated with me. You write about so much more, which I appreciate. I never know what I’ll read about and I’m always excited, hand clutching a cup of coffee. (I miss the nuggets!) Love from
Iowa City xo
Oh I kinda miss nuggets too! I think about bringing them back sometimes.
And, thanks for reading and rolling with my evolution! I hope to always find new things to write about and, man, it sure does change as my kids age. I also hope to just find more time to write. For now, I’ll just clutch coffee a few states away from you in earnest.
xo
Nici