I wrote this several days before we had to surrender Eli. I actually don’t know if I can read through it without crying so I’m just gonna post it. Most of you know the story because Jim told it a couple of weeks ago.
I know my friends will “get it” but let me say that I am not over this and I may never be, since having a greyhound is about the only constant I’ve had for the past 14 years. It rips my heart out to live somewhere I can’t have a fenced yard and can’t have one of these amazing creatures.
Jim and I don’t need pity or “help”. We have to come to grips with the situation at hand. Please respect our desire to not be “guilted” about this. We never adopted with the intention of returning and as one of the founders of Greyhound Pets of America Charleston, I was never going to be one to return a dog. There we are.
I’m looking at one of the sweetest beings known to mankind…and my heart is breaking because I know he isn’t really mine.
Who could know that 5 years ago my life would change so drastically that right now I am moments away from what you might consider a nervous breakdown due to stress and sadness.
Yeah, you who have been following my blog know about dad. You know that at a point around 5 years ago, I dropped everything, packed up my vital stuff and moved here to take care of him…and mom. Since then, my world has been spun in circles.
First off, I knew he would die because he had stage 4 cancer… but really, do you ever believe something like that is going to happen? No. Well, I didn’t. And then it happened. And, at that moment, the rest of my world began to unravel.
Mom had dementia…and we didn’t really know. We just knew she forgot some stuff but somehow I thought it was sensory overload from everything happening to dad. It was not possible we had to deal with dementia too. (A topic I may just cover in another blog – the reason I will never take any kinda of hormone replacement during menopause)
So…yeah, now I’m 100% moved to my parent’s house in a golf community (yuck!) with very little space for the two dogs – Chelsea, my parent’s dog, and Coombsy, my dog. No fenced yard, no large dogs except an older chocolate lab….just small yippy dogs.
Fast forward (although it does seem a bit like slow motion) to this year – Jim and I have been married two years. We have been put through the wringer with the ever advancing dementia. A couple of failed attempts at home-health care and we are again alone…and then it happens.
Coombsy, at age 14 years and 7 months passes away. For the first time ever, I’m without a greyhound…assuming, of course, that I will adopt again…
I never ever thought that this would happen. I never thought that we would be at a place where we can’t adopt a greyhound of our own….
So I met this sweet boy named Eli. I introduced him to Jim. We planned. We prepared. And we took the plunge. With that plunge, we found we are drowning in this life that we had been thrust into. We are so overwhelmed with taking care of our “human” child that we are beyond being able to handle a beautiful grey baby.
Life ain’t goin’ as I planned. I was never going to be the one to adopt and return a dog. And please know, this is more painful a decision than calling in hospice for my dad. This is more painful a decision than letting Flyer or Free Free go. It’s right up there with saying goodbye to Coombsy.
I write this not to brag, not for pity – not for any other reason aside from being able to process … and to emote, to grieve….just as I did for my other losses. I can’t honestly imagine life without a dog.
Pray for us – because we need the prayers.