I had a very long, very mournful post written about the dog's fate. And then I decided it wasn't quite what I wanted to leave out there hanging so I deleted it. It was mournful and I'm not ready to wallow in that space yet. If you read it the brief time it existed, you'll have gotten a peak at the emotional spot I might be in a week from now.
First the important piece - The dog came home from her vet visit.
The reality, however, is that this is most likely a very short reprieve. The vet, after referring to Tasha as a "lemon", basically said that there is nothing they can indentify with certainty in a general exam. They'd need to run test - one of them being a chest X-ray but the X-ray machine was down today. There are a number of things that could be wrong with Tasha and none of them have a great prognosis, especially for a large-breed dog with a long list of health issues and 9 years of living under her belt. In fact, the very problem right now is that there are a number of things with Tasha. Her failing health encompasses several non-connected issues making it near impossible to heal her.
She's currently on antibiotics and pain killers. If she does not improve enough to say she's got a respectable quality of life, then we'll make THE appointment when Bruce returns from his business trip.
So that was the snapshot of the old, now deleted post. I was all weepy when I had finished writing it. I was thinking it'd be a night in a funk where I'd stroke the dog's head and sniff away my tears as I remembered the time we had to carry all 10 pounds of puppy around the park because she decided she'd rather nap than hike the short trail.
Logan is at my parent's for his monthly sleepover. It's just Meg and I. She'd been happily destroying the box of blocks while I had composed before. I had decided to scan in a photo of Tasha as a puppy - one that came with a small story. Megan looked up at the photo now filling the screen and giggled. She turned from the photo to her pet lying, panting on the floor.
"Dog!" she said as she pointed to the computer. She pointed to Tasha and said "Tah-cha." She stared in hard at the puppy photo and said with a sigh that seemed to declare recognition and questioning at once, "Tah-cha!"
I was surprised, really, that she'd connect the puppy photo to the grown animal. Tasha is clearly a Siberian Husky in both, but as a pup she was much more grey. (See the photos. The puppy one is the 'with a story' picture I had on the computer screen. The other is what Tasha looks like all grown up and in her element.)
It made me stop focusing on our pending loss and refocus on my bright, pretty girl. Meg looked at me looking intently at her. She put her head down on my shoulder and nestled in. "Ahhh, mama. Nugg," she said. Nugg, being the way she attempts to say snuggle. Yes, she asks to snuggle.
She does a lot of things. Yesterday I was even teasing Grandma that perhaps we should start working on potty training. Megan had found my diaper bag, dug around in it until she found what she wanted. She came over to me. Threw a diaper my way as she said "Diap!" Then she laid herself down on the floor on her back and held her legs up in the air staring at me expectantly. Hmmm, is that a readiness sign? Oh hush. She's a year old, I'm not potty training. I am just thrilled she's decided cooperating with a diaper change is a better tactic then escaping them!
After the photo identification this evening I moved Megan from my lap at the computer to her booster seat for dinner. I attached her little tray. I gave her a toddler sized fork and spoon. She stabbed her pasta repeatedly until she got several pieces up on the fork. She put the fork in her mouth and pulled off just what she could handle at once. I hadn't quite noticed her do it the first time and she knew it. She threw the fork down on the tray and clapped loudly until she caught my eye. Then she did it again.
After we ate we set about to play. I hid on her in her room. She sought me out yelling "BOO!" when she found me. She loves to play hide-and-seek. When she finds you, she holds up her arms and tries to climb up your leg. As soon as she's in your arms she snuggles in. I put her down this time and told her I was hiding again.
When she entered the room I had selected, she scanned the room with a very serious look on her face. I knew she had found me by the smile that started with her eyes and captured her whole face. She again climbed up on my lap and cuddled. I put her down yet again.
"I'm going to hide again!" I told her. Then I thought about it, we play hide-and-seek often with Logan. This game is how Logan learned to count to 10 before he hit 18 months. I ought to be counting when its just Meg and I too. "Megan, you stay here and count and then find me! I'll say the numbers for you."
I watched her as I walked briskly from the room. She stood still next to the chair I had hidden behind moments before. "1 - 2 - 3..." I said. When I got to ten Meg let out a big squeal and she started to run towards me. I picked up my pace and jetted down to Logan's room. I sat in the dark out in the middle of the room where I knew she could find me despite lack of light.
First she went to her room. "Nope, I'm not in your room, come find me!" I called to her. She stopped moving. She focused on my voice. I figured she'd placed it when I heard her erupt in laughter. She came running right into her brother's room and to me. "BOO MAMA!" she said and she climbed up once more for a great big, celebratory hug.
For such a little girl, Megan knows how to put a big smile on my face. Little things like that remind me why there is nothing quite like being Mom.