When we woke up on Monday, it was softly snowing. The sun is burning through the canopy of clouds, illuminating the landscape making it a black and white ethereal world. It is quiet. It is the morning that we will put our beloved dog Manny to sleep, a decision made only twenty fours ago. Failing mobility and winter have brought us all to this crossroads, though Manny has always been the bravest boy through a lifetime of health issues. It is our turn to be brave for our friend.
It’s a strange range of emotions when you have an appointment to end a life. From that phone call to the vet on, it feels like you are on a timer burning one moment to another to memory. Does he know? Are we right? Can we do any more? The questions linger until you summon the courage to look at his failing body and see the veil of pain entering his eyes. As my husband Joe says, “He has only good moments now with more bad ones.”
Manny has always been my teacher. He has met all his challenges with a courage and grace that only comes with someone who lives in the present, embracing each moment and then the next. He loved us all and enjoyed life despite his many challenges. A good roll in the grass had become a good roll on the couch as walks had been off limits for a couple months. He enjoyed his life and family.
We drove to the vet the long route. Sam, our other dog joined Manny in the back seat. It is an uncomfortable ride for him as he can’t sit well and for a dog who loved to go anywhere, the scenery goes largely unnoticed. Sam licks his face as is her daily ritual. I am sad for her too, because I think she somehow knows.
At the vet, my sister joins us and we wait for Iris, our veterinarian, and Manny’s good friend. Sam is already hiding under the chairs, the vet office not on her list of favorites. After many pets and kisses from all, Iris gives Manny a sedative. We realize how much he has been silently enduring as we see his body relax and lengthen. Iris’s dad’s name was Manny and she tells us now that today is the anniversary of her Mom’s death. There is a synergy in this room where friends and family gather for this event.
The end is peaceful and though very sad, all you could ask for anyone.
We need to let Sam have her morning walk and it was decided to take the Nature Trail because it would be the easiest walking with the heavy snow on the ground. Upon arrival, we both laughed remembering that Manny had his first “walk” here almost thirteen years ago. We hadn’t been here in over a decade because the dogs had been getting injured on various old metal carcasses. Manny was a woodchuck of a puppy, round with short little legs. When we put him down to walk, he put all of his four chubby feet on Joe’s shoes. Stubbornness was something that would serve him well into the future. Joe did carry him and that set the tone.
It is still gently snowing as we enter the wooded area. A Downy Woodpecker breaks the silence with his call. It is loud ‘Peek’ in the quiet and he calls again. Joe suddenly realizes that is Manny’s spirit bird. You see, years ago when my sister’s husband died, my mind was drifting at the service at the cemetery when a gull was calling over and over. I told myself that when I see a single gull, I will think of Bob and know he is with me. I never pick out a creature, they just present themselves somehow and loved ones that pass on from that day forward have their own spirit creature.
After the walk we return home. My feeders for the birds need filling and I am grateful for a task that requires no words. The snow has covered Manny’s last tracks from the house and squirrels have now marked the path. I was thinking of what Manny has taught to me........Live in the present........ Embrace your life moment to moment...........
Once inside the house, I was struck how different it already was without his familiar shape on the couch. I turn back to look outside just as a Downy Woodpecker flies to the tree. Manny never did like to miss a meal.
