The middle part of the last decade was pretty rough for me. In 2003, my mother was diagnosed with ALS (Lou Gehrig’s Disease). My father had passed away in 1999, so my mother lived alone. She was a very independent woman, but eventually she could no longer manage on her own. That’s when I became her caregiver.
Being a caregiver is an all-consuming task, as anyone who has ever been one can attest, especially when it is a debilitating disease, like ALS. One of the hardest things anyone has to experience in life is watching a loved one wither away. When the end finally comes, it can seem like a blessing. That’s a tough thought to deal with. Wanting someone’s suffering to end is basically wishing for him or her to die. There can be a lot of guilt mixed in with the grief. It’s no wonder many caregivers fall into depression after the death of their charge.
That’s when Alex came into the story. Al came to live with me shortly after my mother’s death. He was about 6-years at the time. I had been thinking about getting another dog for years without ever acting on the thought. Quite typically, for me, I had dithered until the decision was taken away from me. My son was forced to move and could not keep both of his dogs. The thought of Al, who was a somewhat emotionally fragile dog, being forced to live with strangers wasn’t a very pretty one. Suddenly, I wasn’t alone anymore.
In the poem, Walls, Langston Hughes wrote, “Four walls can hold / So much pain.” I’ve discovered those words are only too real. Thankfully, that pain is easier to bear when there is someone inside those four walls with you. While dogs may not be able to carry on a scintillating conversation, they listen very well. They also help in other ways. The first thing a dog owner has to do upon awakening is to let the dog out and check their food and water. Thus, he or she starts the day thinking about and caring for someone else. This is much better than starting the day dwelling on what makes you sad. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I went from being a caregiver to having a caregiver. Al had become my emotional caregiver. Luckily, for me, he was quite good at the task.
Unfortunately, for everyone involved, he was forced into that role once again a few, short years later.
On this date in 2006, Al and I arrived in Olive Branch, Mississippi so that we could live with the love of my life.
Both of us were totally out of our element. Al’s mother or father must have been a husky or other kind of sled dog. He had beautiful blue eyes and an extremely thick undercoat. He loved snow and cold weather. There isn’t much of either in northern MS. I was even more out of place. There aren’t a lot of liberal atheists in MS, although I did meet a few, but that’s another story.
Al’s blue eyes seemed to enchant every woman who met him. Regina was no exception. It was love on both sides right from the start. Al even took to sleeping on the floor on her side of the bed. That was a real surprise, because he usually wasn’t happy unless he could see me. Sadly, that friendship never really had a chance to develop. Regina was buried one year later after spending most of that year in the hospital.
This time, Al really had his work cut out for him. My friends and family were 800 miles away. He was all I had.
The two of us hung on down there for nearly another year. It was during this time that I really appreciated how much he gave to me. Al was my responsibility. I had to care for him. I was still a caregiver. I had a purpose – a reason to get out of bed in the morning. That may seem like a small thing. But it’s not. It can be huge.
Eventually, I let go and allowed family and circumstances to bring us home. The two of us packed up and headed north. We made that trip shortly after the launching of the Moose. It felt good to be home.
The next two years were spent living with my son and his family. Al was happier with more people and other animals around. So was I. A lot of my grief washed away during this period. Al went from being my emotional caregiver to being the star in a series of online essays. We were both happier than we’d been in a long time.
That all ended today.
Yesterday, Al started acting as if something was bothering him. His back legs seemed weak and he didn’t want to eat. He even turned his nose up at a piece of hot dog bun. That was a sure sign he wasn’t feeling well. He loves loved bread. The vet thought he had cancer. She said he had two weeks or less. The prognosis was not pretty. I decided that euthanasia was the most loving thing I could do for him. I stayed with him until he was unconscious.
Tomorrow morning is going to be tough. That’s when it will finally hit home. I’m going to miss him, but he will live on. Al will likely make an appearance in future essays right here on the Moose.
Adios, mi amigo. Muchas gracias.
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Walls
Four walls can hold
So much pain,
Four walls that shield
From the wind and rain.Four walls shelter
So much sorrow
Garnered from yesterday
and held for tomorrow.Langston Hughes
1902-1967
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