A dog came to live in my house June 1994. He was a fat, wormy, wet-tail, brindle Boxer that had no idea where he was except that he was with peculiar looking hairless bipeds, and his playmates were no where to be found. He had no name and more than likely did not see the need to acquire one. After all, he survived just fine and dandy with his siblings, and did so without a name. However, a name was given, and that name was Paddy. A name that was short; easy to spell and so far only conjured up the picture of a fat, wormy, wet-tail, brindle Boxer that could wail like ten Boxers at bed time. Nothing seemed to quiet him down and it could only be resolved by allowing him to sleep close to me. So the ottoman was pulled next to the couch, a pillow was provided for my comfort and soon the wet-tail Boxer and I laid nose to nose in the dark of the night. He slept and dreamed puppy things; I missed my bed. No, the name Paddy did not have much meaning at this time. However, he was to give this name more meaning than anyone could have imagined. I suppose that is why when I think of Paddy or just say his name I am inundated with feelings of joy and sadness. For, Paddy passed away October 7, 2000 and I still yearn for him deeply. The following are my feelings and thoughts about the aspect of "letting go" during Paddy's illness and death. I do not propose to be an expert on the subject of grief nor do I wish to become an expert on this subject. This is simply the story of a man that loved a wet-tail brindle Boxer more than he thought possible, and both were summoned to cross the threshold from contentment and play into a struggle of life and death.
The earth spins on its axis each day and moves through the solar system on its yearly journey around the Sun and all are well. Such was my life until April of 2000 when the results of Paddy's biopsy confirmed our vet's suspicions of cancer. The cancer was Canine Lymphoma. Suddenly it did not seem so essential whether the earth stopped spinning or if it decided also not to orbit the sun at all. Hearing heartbreaking news tends to stop the heavens from going about their ordained responsibilities and days and nights are painted with a light gray wash; or so it seems. From this point, forward the struggle began.
What do you do when faced with life altering situations? Lymphoma? The irony of this news was that earlier in the year it was suspected I might have Lymphoma. A battery of test proved otherwise, but still the thought of it laid heavy on my mind. Moreover, here "IT" was back and no longer a "maybe" but Death itself. Heads that were once wise and pragmatic now spin into states of wistfulness and willingness. Willing to talk and listen to stick people, grasp at any ray of hope, plead with mortals and the Divine for a miracle. Nevertheless; knowing that in the end, most aspects of the struggle will be beyond anyone's control and decisions will be based upon resources, time and hopefully guided by love.
Unconditional love moves us in ways that are not even dreamed about. Not only is this true for humans but for our Boxers as well. Paddy indeed had this character. He was faithful in implementing his love at all times. I suppose a colloquial way of putting it was "Paddy was such a good boy". The medicines he took greatly increased his water intake, and he held it to be a "good boy". The upset stomachs and doing his best to eat to be a "good boy". Through biopsies, and two Chemo protocols (the second treatment I regret even attempting), that left him isolated for the day, tired and sick afterwards but still he had a wag and a woo-woo for he was a "good boy". During the first month of his second chemo protocol Paddy developed an infection in several joints were the skin sloughed off and he became to weak to get up to eat or go outside. Paddy's mother took time off from work to care for our boy. He would lay just as still as could be while his wounds were bathed and dressed; cooperate while being hand fed, and so easy (although heavy) to carry outside to do his business. All because he was a "good boy". The "end" was staring me in the face but I would not even dare glance at it. I, was afraid. Paddy would "get over this" and then, on with the treatments and he would feel better. I feel very sad, that in my hesitation not to "release" him in a more timely manner, that it resulted in letting my boy down. To this day the pain still invades my sleep and lays heavy on my heart.
It was during this time that Jacke (my wife and Paddy's mother) slipped off and selected his gravesite. This was something that she took very personal and wanted to do by herself. There was a bond between her and Paddy that transcended even the bond I had with Paddy. She came back in tears and covered with mud. She related what she had been doing and where. In addition, she shared a remarkable story that had transpired while she dug our boy's grave. She had selected a spot in the back woods were Paddy and his brother Spink loved to go play. While digging the grave she looked up and noticed that a big red dog had come to watch. He looked at her, and it is here she saw the gentle eyes of the big red dog. The grave was dug, tears were shed, and still the big red dog with gentle eyes watched. Turning his head ever so often but still he continued to watch. When the grave was finished, up from his resting-place came the big red dog with gentle eyes, and with a last look off he walked. Why did he show up just at this moment? Perhaps, he came to give his approval and hallow the resting-place for our boy.
October 7, started as any other Saturday morning. My wife was off to work and I was busy taking care of the boys. Paddy had his pills that morning but he declined to eat his breakfast. He looked so tired as he went and climbed up on couch to rest. Soon it was time to let the boys out to "do their business". Paddy was very tired but went out and made his way to his favorite spot. He came into the house and as he entered the door our eyes met. He looked so tired and sad. It was at this moment that the thought came to me that for sure the end was near and perhaps it would be better for my boy to soon cross on over. Paddy went straight to our bathroom. This is were he laid when he did not feel good or when there was a thunderstorm. I sat down in the living room. Shortly I heard a loud sound from the bathroom and I went to see if everything was ok. Paddy was stretched out on the floor quickly crossing over. I grabbed him, hugged him and my boy was gone. Had he heard me? Did I wish him dead? I just wanted my boy not to suffer any more.
Jacke was called and soon Paddy and his favorite toys were buried in the consecrated grave that had been dug with love by his Mother and watched over by the big red dog with gentle eyes. It was a miserable, long walk back to the house. Jacke made several trips to his grave that week to plant various bulbs and to add her protective touches. Paddy's possessions were put away and only now have we started to reintroduce his "things" back into our home to show that someone very special lived here. Spink was troubled by the passing of Paddy and for weeks afterwards would try to find his brother. I do not know which was harder; bearing my grief or not being able to help Spink.
How do you "let go"? I think the term itself is very destructive and interferes with the healing process. Perhaps a healthier way would be to think of it as to "set free". "Letting go" seems to imply a "putting away" or that it is about to vanish and can never be found, and that is unacceptable. Then, what does it mean to "set free"? The word that comes to mind is "limitless". No bounds of any kind just forever liberated from temporal cares and trepidation. I cannot reach out and touch my boy, yet he feels closer to me than my own heart. He did not "go away" or "vanish" he is here and his love and memories are now "limitless".
The bulbs planted last fall are beginning to come to life and soon the hallowed ground will be covered with beautiful flowers.
This brings pleasant thoughts to my mind and soon I am day dreaming about my boy heading for home just as fast as he can. However, I am soon distracted, and back to this earthly realm I must return to think of other things. At least I know my boy is at rest now free from his cancer and limitless in his love.
He came into my house and made it a home. I gave him a name and he gave me love. Paddy Wadda Doodle my beloved boy is greatly missed and loved.
Love, Dad