It’s been a beautiful weekend, but somehow not so enjoyable. I’ve grown to dislike living here at the Columbia campus. The bare white walls seem claustrophobic; however, I’m not here long enough to change them. I suppose I’m looking to settle down somewhere, but that won’t happen for awhile. I can’t wait to go home.
Of course going home is not the brightest prospect right now because my dog is deathly ill with cancer. I wonder if he’ll make it till I return? He’s been a faithful companion, and I’ve felt bad for not being able to stay with him. Last time I was home, we went to put him in the back of our pick up truck, and he took one look at it and walked around the side and jumped into the passenger seat. Napoleon’s just got that kind of spunk. He never barks unless he’s accidentally left outside (oops!) and then he barks just enough so that I’ll notice he’s out there.
Cancer. I have always seen how it affects people, but I never expected my dog to get it. It’s a fast-growing tumor in his nose. It’s matastasized (sp?) so quickly we can hardly believe the changes he’s going through. My mom felt so bad about it, my whole family does. There’s not much we can do, though. The cancer doesn’t respond very much to chemo or radiation. At that, it would only give him a few more miserable months alive. I say miserable because the side effects really dampen the quality of life for your pet. Quality of life is important, but when do you say enough is enough? It’s a tough decision to let him go. He was there for me when I was recovering from my surgery. He stayed faithfully on my bed the whole time. Of course I say on my bed…not so sure he would have been as faithful had it been by my bed.
It’s not only that, he knows what you say to him. Although many would argue it’s impossible, he responds like he does understand. For example, the other day when I was home, I went up to my sister’s room. Usually if I don’t come down for ten minutes, he comes upstairs looking for me. Well he came up to mom’s room, and Mom told him I was down the hall. So he walked out right when I did, and sure enough, he got that big, biscuit-eating grin on his face and came bounding down the hall, so bashful and pleased with himself. Anytime he finds me, he knows he gets loving. Loving being defined as rubbing behind his ears, and a gradual shift of focus to his back. It’s hard losing someone who’s loved you despite everything you are. It doesn’t matter to him what you look like, where you’ve been, mistakes you’ve made. Unconditional love is hard to find.
Of course going to college, I probably missed him the most. I can’t talk to him on the phone even - when I do he cocks his head and looks up at my mom like she’s lost it. Still I tried to talk to him anyway. Human inventions. They can be so puzzling. The thing he hates the most is being put up in the restroom or the garage. He’s away from people, and neither place is that comfortable.
Characterizing my dog as much as I have seems ludicrous. The compassion I feel for him, inescapable. I sometimes wish I wasn’t this compassionate, it’s brought me so much heartache. I mean I cried over a squirrel I had for less than a day when I found out from the vet that he was so sick he needed to be put down. I was eighteen. My loyalty doesn’t come easily; nor does it leave easily. It’s why it’s so difficult to lose him I suppose. I’ll keep my fingers crossed that he remains in good condition till I return.
