The Blessings Of Ladybug

          

May 30, 1997 - July 11, 2013

Ladybug was two and a half years old when she came into my life. She was a Champion, having spent her early years as a show dog and then having one litter of puppies. I already had two Tibetan Spaniels, Arty and Abracadabra, and was indecisive at first about adding a third. But my life lent itself to having multiple dogs and in a weak moment I said, "yes". 

She didn't really have a chance to shine with the other two. Arty had my heart and that was that. He was cuddly and faithful to me and I found him endlessly loving and entertaining. Abracadabra was exactly like her name -- a magical fairy being. She was a little shining light -- clearly the center of the Universe.

Ladybug was hesitant. She always followed and liked what the others did and was never the leader. She was sweet and I liked her. But, she did not like me. She would bond with whoever was around but she would walk past me with her nose in the air. It wasn't until many years later, after Arty and Abracadabra had both passed on, that I sat down with her and said, "if you are truly unhappy with me I will find you a place where you want to be. This blatant rejection, though, is not working for me". 

After that talk, she was mine. She followed me everywhere and would often fall asleep at my feet. She made a 180 degree turn around and we were both happier because of it. I found myself opening my heart to her as well. We became a team and delighted in each other's company and companionship.

Soon after we became friends she was accidentally let out of the house when I was not there. We were living in the desert south of Tucson. She got out of an open fence and disappeared. Everyone searched for her but she was no where to be found. After 4 days, I had given up hope of finding her. There were coyotes and rattlesnakes, mountain lions and many other creatures that were just waiting for an innocent little dog. I made my peace with her loss.

Then I got a call from someone several miles up the road that they had seen Ladybug and recognized her from a flyer I had posted on the main road. I went where they had seen her in a heavy  monsoon rainstorm and she came running to me. Surprisingly, she was okay and we were reunited again.

After that we spent another year in Arizona, a year in Philadelphia and two years in Colorado together. We were adjusting quite well to her aging process. She still had relatively good health. She would go for walks and sniff at everything and walk slowly about 15 minutes and then suddenly run full tilt back to our apartment. I would literally have to run to keep up with her. She did this until her death.

Three weeks before she died she poked her cornea. I never figured out what she poked it on. None the less, it was a serious wound and I had to put antibiotic drops in her eyes 10 times a day. The eye improved minimally but didn't really heal. She appeared to not be in pain or really bothered by it. One night I woke her up for the last time out for the evening and she riled up from her bed in terrible pain. I stayed up with her the entire night and through the next day until our appointment at the Veterinarian's. She only found comfort by standing close with her face to a wall where she would pant for a half hour before finding another wall. It was excruciating to experience and I have never felt more helpless!

The Veterinarian (who I have the deepest respect for) said he would give me his honest opinion about what needed to happen. After examining her he confirmed that she was in a lot of pain and that the eye was not healing well. He felt, as I did, that the compassionate thing to do was to euthanize her.

The most enormous thing Ladybug gave me was relaxing in my arms before the shot. She had never done that before and I realized as it was happening that that was her gift to me. More than any other animal or person who has died in my life, Ladybug showed me grace in dying. I felt extremely sad (I was a wreck, actually) but filled with love and the knowledge that Ladybug and I had reached to end of our lives together in exactly the right time and way.

My perception of death has shifted since that day. One of my dear friends passed away last weekend and I felt the same way that I had with Ladybug. I had always wanted to feel peaceful and not fearful about death but had never achieved this. The blessing I received from Ladybug is that death is simply part of life. It is just a part of the cycle. I have known this for a long time but never really "gotten" it. I will be forever grateful to my little girl!

Living With No Spiritual Beliefs

I have spent a good deal of time this week talking with a friend I’ve known for over 40 years. I received a call from her early in the week asking for support to go through the end of her eighteen-year-old dog’s life.

We have a long history. Our lives crossed as roommates in college. She was from the area and my home was fifteen hundred miles away. Her family took me in. We spent many weekends and holidays with them.

They were quiet and shy folks and only became relaxed and animated after they had known me for several years. Then, it felt like I was one of the family. I felt trusted. Accepted for who I was. Liked. Loved.

The family was extremely enmeshed. The father was clearly in charge. The mother was quiet and submissive. It didn’t feel as though they ruled their children with an iron hand. It was more a passive guilt-controlled environment. I am describing this not in a derogatory way but more to paint a picture of the world and life they had created.

My friend and her older brother were, it almost seemed, kept by some unknown source from having their own lives. I felt that neither had a sense of themselves outside of the family. Neither dated or had significant relationships until they were in their 30’s. ( I think the brother was in his 40’s)

One of the most striking things about them was their incredibly strong need for “control”. Everything was precisely and perfectly in order. Material things were highly valued and well taken care of. There was a backdrop of Catholic schools and religious background with little evidence of a current practice of those beliefs. There was no sense of any spirituality or beliefs that would sustain you. This lack of belief made the controlled environment make sense to me.

I was young and didn’t question the basic fabric of their lives. I was more focused on experiencing being accepted into a family that was welcoming. I wasn’t able or aware enough to project into the future what this set of life variables would produce.

First the father died unexpectantly of a heart attack. Then the brother ran off and married an older woman who had a number of children. Then he died after a short battle with cancer. That left my friend and her mother. Their relationship was one of enmeshed closeness. Almost too close. Too dependent on each other.

I came in and out of their lives and as I moved away for many years missed out on a lot of the drama of these traumatic episodes. I was summoned back when her mother was dying. Her mother was in her 90’s and  failing health was alarming to my friend. My friend’s control was not working to stop her mother’s health from deteriorating. She was terrified of losing her mother because that meant that she would be “alone”. I could see from statements like that that she was not aligned with her husband and didn’t consider him part of the family or of her life. She was, nonetheless, dependent on him to be there.

When her mother died, my friend fell apart—keeping it together just enough to thrive in her career. She had always used work as her safe haven as it had been the one thing in her life that had been “successful” in her eyes. A recent car accident has left her with headaches and difficulty standing and sitting for long periods of time. She cannot work now—probably until fall. Without the safety and identity of her work she is lost. Discombobulated. Frantic.

This was what was happening when I got the call about the dying dog. The dog had been her mother’s and its dying brought up all the unresolved feelings around her mother’s, father’s and brother’s deaths. It meant she felt she was finally “truly alone”. It was a gigantic ordeal!

I spent several days reassuring her that the dog was indeed suffering. The little dog had been hanging on, literally for dear life, for three years beyond what I thought she would because of her mother’s and then my friend’s need not to be

alone. The poor thing’s body was giving out but she was still trying to hang in there.

The emphasis in her conversations with me was around trying to control everything possible so that there would be no second-guessing after the dog had passed. We spoke about  physical things, such as what was happening with the dog in any given moment. My friend could not let go of the dog and was berating herself for not doing the right thing every step of the way.

Her anxiety level was growing exponentially as the days passed and the dog deteriorated. She became more and more specific in her thinking as time went on. Details became the hallmark of her anxiety.

I played the role of opening up the micro thinking to more general ways of thinking. I would come up with statements like: “Some things are working here”, “You’ve been through this before, and I know you can do it now”. She would relax momentarily with these and then would jump in with an anxiety-ridden comment or thought. It was very challenging.

I realized a some things  through this. Having no beliefs in a spiritual world doesn’t allow for living in the physical world very well. Even if there are some beliefs, anxiety and control can throw them easily out the window. This way of living is excruciatingly painful.

The dog was put to sleep this week with a fight. That, too, was traumatic. There was no other way to script the experience—my friend’s reality was being created in such a rigid way with no room for peaceful outcomes or spiritual or emotional support. I hope my friend can have the motivation now to search for a life with  greater meaning. I wish for her peace of heart and mind. I will hold that belief in my heart until she can do it for herself.