Three Months & Five Days Later

Part II

Since that time, I've been working my way through this grief. It's been difficult to say the least. I've had what I believe to be communication with Bootsie in the time since her passing.

Right around Christmas, I dreamed of her. It happened like this:  

I'd woken up that morning, looked around the room, and pulled the blanket back over my head, angry that I'd lived to see another day without the benefit of Bootsie by my side. (I prayed to die day and night, and you should have heard the "deals" I was willing to strike with God. I explained to HIM (lol) the following:   "We both know that this week, there's going to be alot of people that die, in my city alone! Many of them don't know it's coming! They have marriages, children, good jobs, homes.....and if given the choice, they would NOT want to die! Well, here's my idea: Let ME take the place of one of them. I'm willing, ready and able. You took from me all I had left in the world. Let me go be with Bootsie, and spare someone else their life."  

As you can see, God was in no mood to bargain. I pulled the covers back over my head that morning. Sleep was an escape from my painful reality. Immediately, I feel back asleep and right away began dreaming. It was an odd dream...I dreamed that I had not fallen back asleep, but got up like I normally would have. I went into the kitchen to get a frappucino from the fridge, like I've done every morning for the last 3 years.

Halfway in, I stopped dead in my tracks: There, sniffing at her food and water bowl, was Bootsie. She turned around and looked up at me as if she'd never been gone. I gasped and said incredulously, "OmG, Bootsie it's YOU!" I picked her up, hugged her, and held her away a few inches so I could look at her. It was the best dream. Bootsie was so white and so fluffy and she looked just like she did when she was a puppy. It was unbelievable. I was so happy, I can't even begin to tell you. I NEEDED that dream.  I  had been asking Bootsie to come to me somehow......give me some kind of sign she was okay..but knowing Bootsie as I do, I wanted to make sure she knew that if she COULDN'T, that was ok,too, and not to worry. 3 days later that dream came.  

Every night since that dream, I prayed for another. Nothing came though.  

Days  turned into weeks, a month, two months. I found that I am a very capable actress when I need to be. I've been able to mask my grief with a cheerful voice, and smile although on the inside, I feel nothing. I've went out and put on a play called "normalacy" , then when safely back inside these 4 walls, fallen apart and cried until my nose was too stuffed up to breathe.  

I began to fret about other things: a leash that I had looked for since before Bootsie was even sick, but never could find.....Even though I have lots of Bootsie pics, I soon discovered that a lot was not enough, and that I was stupid for not taking many, many more...........If you've ever called my house phone, you know that Bootsie is who you hear giving the outgoing greeting. I've no plans to remove that. In fact, I've sat here in this house and used my cell phone to call and hear her. (I've even left her messages). I used a small handheld digital recorder to tape Bootsie "talking", and what you hear on my voicemail is only a small portion of her conversation that I recorded. But what did I do with that recording? I couldn'tfind it, and that upset me. I made the recording about 2 years ago.  

2 weeks ago, I had to go out and run some errands. As  always, I beat a hasty path back home with the car soon as I finished. I parked in the driveway and made my way through the garage. I stopped midway to the door that leads to the kitchen. There, right in the middle of my way, on the ground, laid that leash. I was shocked at this. I bent down and picked it up, turning it over in my hands to make sure it was "THE" leash I had looked high and low for. It was. And how it came to be right in the center of where I was walking was beyond me. I feel it could only be from Bootsie, something to help me feel better.  

Just then, Jason pulled in, and I set the leash down on top of a box to go out and talk to him. He didn't stay long, only a few minutes. He'd brought a pizza over for me and my mom. I took the pizza and again made my way back inside the garage. Again, I stopped, because there, in the same place the leash had been, was a dark blue vinyl pencil case, cylinder shaped, with a zippered top.  It laid smack dab in the middle of the path to the kitchen door, right where I would trip over it. I set the pizza down and picked up the pencil case. There was a lot of stuff in it. When I pulled the zipper open, the first thing my eyes saw was a handheld Olympus digital voice recorder. OmG, THIS was what I used to RECORD BOOTS that day 2 years back.

I took it in the house, lay the pizza on the kitchen counter and went in the living room.  I was too nervous. I very carefully laid the recorder on the coffee table and just STARED at it. If this recorder had been in the garage that whole time, it had been exposed to extreme temperatures. If that wasn't enough, there was also the fact that the batteries had to have long since been sapped of their strength.   After 10 minutes of staring, I picked it up and pressed the play button. And there was my girl. My Bootsie's sweet little voice came singing out to me for a full 5 minutes. I sat here and cried as I listened to her.   There was also a "bonus track" on the recorder.. something I'd long since forgotten even existed. One night a long time ago, Bootsie was laying beside me on the sofa, sleeping. Every once in a while, Bootsie would snore while she slept, and this night was one of those nights. Trying to keep my laughter down, I held the recorder close as I dared to her mouth and recorded her snoring until she woke up and gave me a dirty look, lol. It was there still, and I cried and laughed at the same time.   How was it that I should have had those 2 things in my mind at that time, feeling upset about them, and then suddenly they both show up in the way that they did. It could only have been my Bootsie,. possibly with the help of my dad. There's no other explanation.  

It didn't stop there though. There was one more surprise awaiting me.   Later that night, I was looking for something (cannot remember now what), and as a last resort decided to check the closet by the front door. I was pretty sure it was futile to look, but I looked anyhow. I never did find what I was looking for. But I spied something else on the top shelf that caught my interest: A stack of about a dozen or so photographs. I carried them to the sofa and was overjoyed to see that they were all pics of Bootsie! These were photos taken when she was a baby, only 6 months to a year or 2 old. I knew of them, but had entirely forgotten about them. In a way, they were like newly discovered treasures, since I hadn't seen them in years. I cried some more, lol.   I went through each one, smiling and crying, until I was down to the last photo in the stack. When my eyes came to rest on it, it literally took my breath away. It was a photo of my Bootsie, in the kitchen, looking up at me. And it was the exact image of her that I had in my dream. EXACT. It was as if someone had taken that part of my dream and caused it to freeze on Kodak paper. When I caught my breath I think I cried another two hours.   Let me tell you, those 3 incidences, taken seperately .....maybe I could have explained them away as being interesting, happy coincidences. But all in one day, and all addressing specific issues that had been cause for my tears over the past few weeks? It could only be my Bootsie, once again, doing all she could do to make me feel better. I thanked her over and over and am still thanking her (and my dad who I'm sure helped her).   This is the moment of my dream, frozen in time:  

 

  

 

I LOVE YOU, BOOTSIE!

Three Months & Five Days Later.....

PART I

 

When I lost  Bootsie, I really went downhill, even to the point of going back on Paxil. (I didn't continue with that though, because I couldn't find the patience for its' side effects).  

Every day and night I've cried for Boots. I've avoided driving my car as much as possible. It was just too painful. Bootsie was always with me in the car, and she so loved accompanying me on even the shortest drives.  

About 2 weeks after I lost Bootsie, her ashes were delivered back to the vets. I asked Jason to take me to get her, and he said ""OK, let me just watch the end of my movie and we'll go." I told HIM, "Forget it, then. My Bootsie's spent ENOUGH time in a clinic that she hated to be in! I'm getting her NOW."  With that, I was off.   When I drove home with her, I could hardly see the road through my tears. Here I was, taking this final drive with my baby. Instead of Bootsie standing in my lap with her little face out the window- eyes squinting into the wind, then bopping back into the car and doing a little dance in the passenger seat, she lay still and silent in a pine box. The weight of the box  containing her was so very small in comparison to Bootsie's 14.5 pound body. The realization of all of this was almost more than I could bare.  

 

It took me until the day of my birthday to break the tape on the cardboard box and remove the pinebox that was inside. The urn itself is not sealed.  The lid has 2 hinges at the back, allowing it to be lifted up at the front. Initially, I was upset about this.  Now I am not. You see, I was never given a choice as to what my Bootsie would be placed in. This is such a personal thing, and I don't like the dark brown pine box she lays in now. It's a rectangular shape......too strong a resemblance to a coffin. I want a square shaped, light colored wood holder, that I can have personalized just for her.  In this, I am glad that the box is hinged. I am scared to death to look inside. I never have yet. When I do get a new holder. I will have to transfer Bootsie to it, and it's at that time that I will have to cope with the transformation.  

After that drive home with Bootsie, my car was garaged. I told Jason "I don't want to drive anymore."  And I meant it. I garaged my car, and only took it out when absolutely necessary.  Even then, I would avoid it as much as I could.  

Bootsie left me on December 10th, and since that time, I have not been able to look out into the backyard. I've had the drapes closed since that day. I did force myself to peek out of the curtains once.....that was last week. The first time my eyes has seen that yard in over 2 months. I could only manage to do it for about 5 seconds. You see, that was BOOTSIE'S backyard. I always told her that, She loved it so much back there.  

Every night, I've cried. I've blamed God, I've blamed myself, I've blamed others. I've felt stinging regrets for times I should've paid my little Boots more attention and didn't, should've read more about her illnesses but hadn't, etc.   I have since come to see that of all the blame I tossed around, God didn't deserve any at all. (I've since apologized to Him)! If anything, God was VERY busy helping me and Bootsie, and working behind the scenes in ways I could not imagine.  

For example, we scheduled Bootsie for exploratory surgery to make sure that she didn't have a liver tumor, and alsoto remove her gallbladder which we knew was not functioning. When Dr. Woods (our internal med. vet) looked inside Bootsie, his suspicions were confirmed that her gallbladder was in bad shape.... but it was nothing compared to the condition of her liver. My poor Bootsie was in end-stage cirrhosis.  

I was dumbfounded. How could this be???? I thought we were on TOP of this! I thought Bootsie was doing so well!   To this very day, I still have the recording Bootsie's vet left on my recorder about her last blood test results. She said, (and I can quote from memory), "Her liver levels are still high, but they're down about half from where they were the last time we checked two months ago.... so I'm really very pleased with that! She looks just great and I think she's doing just excellent!"   Now, in my mind, I believed that I was doing everything right. I believed that we were on top of this, and that we were monitoring the extent of Bootsie's liver disease very well, and had it under control. I trusted that our vet, Dr. Zakos, would implement liver-specific meds when and if the need should arise. Bootsie was never given any special drugs for her liver, only Milk Thistle, Vitamin E, S.O.D. supplement, and Life Exxtension supplements, plus a prescription diet for liver compromised dogs: Science Diet L/D.   So what happened?  

From what I understand, the symptoms of end-stage cirrhosis are as follows:

* Loss of appetite

* Wasting away of body

* Ascites (the swollen fluid-filled tummy look)

* Vomiting

* Diarreah (with blood in it)

* Rust colored urine

* Jaundice of the skin and whites of eyes  

Bootsie had NONE of this. Her tummy was swollen, but this was while she was in the hospital and I attributed it to the IV fluids. She did not vomit. Had only one bout of diarreah, and that was 2 weeks prior. She ate ravenously for me the night before her surgery, a full bowl of food. Her urine was not rust colored, it was normal. She maintained her ideal body weight of 14.5 pounds for over a year and was in perfect weight. She had not the slightest trace of jaundice. Not even a little. Her skin was pink and beautiful, the whites of her eyes were white, not a trace of  yellow.  

And yet the vet told me, as he stood in his scrubs, and I sank into a chair, that my Bootsie's liver was completely fibrotic. It was nothing but scar tissue. I cannot explain this. I don't think Dr. Woods realized how this made no sense at all to me. Still does not.  The only thing I can think is that God gave us a lesser illness in order for me to discover the worse fate that was waiting to grab and hurt my Bootsie, thereby allowing me to ensure that my Bootsie would not have to know that suffering.   He made it so that Bootsie never had to suffer the symptoms of cirrhosis. (I could've looked at Bootsie's liver myself. The vet asked me if I wanted to, and I declined. I had to believe him, because I could not have that image in my head. Bad enough the image of my baby under that green surgical blanket in that brightly lit OR.   I had to make a decision for my li'l girl. It took me many long, agonizing minutes, but ultimately, I looked up at Dr. Woods and through my sobbing, I said:   "I know that if there was anything at all that you could do to save my little girl, you'd do it. That's why I asked you to come here and be the one to perform this surgery. I NEVER want my Bootsie to suffer. I don't care about ME. But no suffering for her. If you think the best thing I can do for my Bootsie is to let her go, then that's what I have to do. I don't want to, but I will, if it's best for HER."   Dr. Woods silently took my hand and held it as he led me back into the OR.   I bent over the OR table, stroking Bootsie's fur and telling her that everything was going to be ok. I told her that I loved her. I said all those things that one needs desperately to say before the moment is forever extinguished. During this time, Dr. Woods was working underneath the surgical blanket. He administered the drug that insured my Bootsie's eternal peace.

At the moment my little girls soul was released from her earthly body, I KNEW. I pulled back slightly, searching her small face for any sign of life.....but she was no longer there.   I collapsed. Dr. Woods had to catch me, and was kind enough to hold me up.