by Tj O'Connor
Cancer should be spelled with an F. That’s the way I spell
it—F---ing Cancer.
First it took her by surprise. Then it took her leg. Then it
took her dignity. Then, it forced me to … f---ing
cancer.
I have faced death all my life. We all have in one form or
another. But these past couple years has been one heartache after another.
Still, nothing prepared me for the loss of my girl, Maggie Mae. Nothing. In
2015, I lost both my mentor, Wally, and my companion, Mosby. One as much as the
other—a Lab and a brilliant but crusty old spy—devastated me nearly the same. I’m
not embarrassed to admit it. Wally was 92 and had lived his amazing life. Up
until the very end—the hour—we shared laughs and talked and made sure there was
peace and understanding between us. But with Mosby, it was hard to share
anything but the loss. I wanted him to understand there was no choice. To
understand that there was no greater love than to let go and save him from pain
and despair. No greater sacrifice than accepting responsibility for the
strange, heart-breaking kindness that is sometimes death. I hoped—prayed—he
understand that I was not betraying him. Not merely moving on. I was saving him
from the worst fate.
I try to tell myself that every day. Sometimes it works.
Sometimes it kills me all over again. Pain doesn’t go away, it just simmers in
the background waiting for an opportunity to burn you a little more.
Maggie is different. Painfully different. I can’t explain
why—perhaps because she was my girl or perhaps it was because it was such a
shock. Perhaps it was something else—she was forever in bandages for something.
Always on meds for this or that. A twelve year struggle to cure the next thing.
But she lived without complaint. Without demand. Always happy and loving. Until
December when she came up lame in one leg. The vet told me she had arthritis,
maybe a damaged ligament. No worries. Pain meds, therapy… maybe a little
surgery if it didn’t heal quickly. All would be fine.
Wrong. Dead wrong.
Three weeks later, I knew something was very, very wrong and
sought out a specialist. My girl wasn’t going to limp anymore or down pain
pills any longer. Whatever the reason. Whatever the cost. She was going to be
healed—and fast.
Oh dear God … twenty
minutes after arriving, the end lay in my lap, panting and begging me for a
chance—a few more weeks. A few more months ... Osteosarcoma. F---ing cancer. Deep in her bone. So deep it was killing me, too.
The doc, an amazingly lady with class, skill, and
compassion, operated that day and took her leg to save her life. Chemo was
scheduled. More pain meds. But hope was in my grasp. Within three days she was
hobbling around, playing a little, loving a lot—the smile back in her eyes after
two months in hiding. Even after her first chemo treatment, she was on her feet
and fighting back. Fighting for us. Fighting for life. She loved on Toby, or
black Lab and the love of her life. She played with my granddaughter, walked and
slept with me, and ate everything she could find. After all, dying be damned—she was a Lab.
Until the second week. Paralysis consumed her. It was back.
She couldn’t walk, couldn’t sit, couldn’t have the dignity of controlling herself
… her face exuded embarrassment when I carried her for days into the yard just
to keep her from soiling herself. I didn’t know what was killing her
faster—f---ing cancer or shame.
Humans should have such dignity.
I can barely write these words. The next ones especially.
Pain rains and fingers tremble—the thoughts of those last moments. For those
who don’t share my emotions over pets, you shouldn’t have them. For those that
do, I can only image you’re sharing a little of my grief right now. You know
the rest of the story. I couldn’t allow her any more pain, anymore shame, anymore
cancer. And in my arms, both of us shaking … I let her go.
Damn me for what I had to do. Damn me. I only pray that if
there is a heaven—and for souls like hers and my boy, Mosby, there has to
be—that she and he are together and happy. They deserve it like no human I’ve
ever known. Loyal. Loving. Compassionate.
This is not the fun, lighthearted post I wanted to write. But
it is the post I had to write. It hasn’t healed me yet—I am struggling still. But
it helps. Because sadly, I’m not always the adventurous, tough Harley guy
people think of me too often—I’m an UFO (ugly fat old guy) who cries over lost dogs
and isn’t ashamed to post that pain for the world to read.
But, the loss of one has one good fortune with the pain—room
for another. Toby needs a companion—he morns for Mags every day. This house
needs a girl—I do to. Not to replace you, Mags, but because you left such an
emptiness behind.
So, to end this with a little hope … welcome Annie Rose. You’ve
got big paws and a huge heart to fill. Be gentle with Toby and me—we’re still
grieving. But he, like me, is coming around.
We’ll talk again next month.
Tj O’CONNOR IS THE
GOLD MEDAL WINNER OF THE 2015 INDEPENDENT PUBLISHERS BOOK AWARDS (IPPY) FOR
MYSTERIES. He is the author of New Sins
for Old Scores, coming in Spring 2017 from Black Opal Books, and Dying to Know, Dying for the Past, and Dying to Tell. He recently finished his
new thriller and is beginning three sequels to previous works. Tj is an
international security consultant specializing in anti-terrorism,
investigations, and threat analysis—life experiences that drive his novels.
With his former life as a government agent and years as a consultant, he has lived
and worked around the world in places like Greece, Turkey, Italy, Germany, the
United Kingdom, and throughout the Americas—among others. He was raised in New
York's Hudson Valley and lives with his wife and Lab companions in Virginia
where they raised five children. Dying to
Know is also the 2015 Bronze
Medal winner of the Reader’s Favorite
Book Review Awards, a finalist for the Silver
Falchion Best Books of 2014, and a finalist for the Foreword Review’s 2014 INDIEFAB Book of the Year Award.
Learn about Tj’s
world at:
Web Site: www.tjoconnor.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/tjoconnor.author
Blog: http://tjoconnorbooks.blogspot.com/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7148441.T_J_O_Connor
3 comments:
So sorry for your loss. My deepest sympathies are with you. I know the pain of losing a beloved dog. When we lost our German Shepherd, April, I never stopped missing her. I still miss her and it's been 31 years!!
I feel your pain and I'm sorry for your loss. Losing a dog is tough. My spouse and I have both lost long time, beloved dogs over the past few years. We recently got two - brothers - that we're learning to love now. Good luck with your own new friend.
I have no idea what brought me to your page, but I started scrolling down and saw your chocolate lab. I had mine die two years ago from old age. The way your dog died must have been so difficult. There's still a hole in my heart, but we've since gotten a new puppy and he makes us happy. I hope things get better for you soon.
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