|
I BROUGHT BACH HOME
TODAY...I TOLD HIM THAT I WOULD!
It is September 1, 2004, two weeks since Bach crossed over the bridge. I
brought him home in Chris' truck. It will be his last trip in the
Pathfinder he loved. His ashes were in a beautiful Pine box given to me
by a very caring staff at the Vet hospital. I kept my hand on the box
and talked to him all the way home.
In the beginning, we were so sure his illness was minor and I assured
Bach we would be bringing him home as quickly as this was all resolved.
The surgeon was seriously pessimistic which surprised us. We were
prepared to do what ever it took. Our regular vet told us we went "above
and beyond" trying to save Bach...it doesn't feel like it.
We knew Bach felt our love and that he returned it ten fold, however, we
have not been prepared for the "memories at every turn" feelings. I
wrote many things about what Bach did on his web page, however, I now
realize I could never capture how rich he made our lives.
Tonight as we said good night to the horses, Dancer and Moonie, and
dobie Sasha, we commented on the unusually cooler Austin night and
instantly thought how Bach's energy picked up as the days turned cooler.
I would always rub Bach's hips as we left the stable, thankful he had no
dysplasia. It's amazing how we worked to protect him from heart worm,
fleas, ticks, West Nile, etc., with all the vaccinations, regular
checkups and Kennel Cough treatments. We'd never heard of IBD.
Now the subtle, deeply engrained, memories make you focus on the spaces
Bach frequented. By the couch with his head resting on the coffee table.
Sasha laying down in his lap (dogs have laps, don't they?) for an ear
cleaning. Bach enjoyed the morning, laying outside the stable door as
Chris fed the horses. Licking out the empty horse bowls. He and Sasha
would lay in the grass, or on the driveway for hours waiting for Chris
or I to come home. Scratching the garage door when there was lightening
close by, hunters shooting in the distance, or holiday firecrackers.
once in he would be glued to your side for protection (at least until
UPS drove up).
Bach and Sasha watched the news with us every evening and somehow they
always got up on their own to go to bed at 8:30 pm (give or take 5 or 10
minutes). I will probably always wish Bach a good night every night.
I so miss Bach coming up and wanting an ear rub. Or he would lay across
the room and begin gently pawing his ears and looking at me for a rub.
Always on Sunday and several times in between, Bach and I would have our
quiet moments. I'd lie on the floor with him, rub his ears, chest and
give him hugs, until he'd had enough. He'd slide away, appreciative, but
that's quite enough, thank you! Ah, the independence of the wolf.
As the first piece of ice drops from the refrigerator door, Bach was
there. Even opening the pantry door quietly, would bring him from far
and wide. He would quickly sit and mouth a "whisper" woof if offered a
treat... never begging.
What might we have done to bring on this dread IBD? When they learned we
gave our rib bones to Bach and Sasha, our favorite Bar-B-Que restaurant
began giving us extras, so once a month or so they'd have several bones
each over a weeks period. Then they began giving us cutouts. While this
was every couple of months, Bach and Sasha would have a few of the cuts
on top of their regular dry food for a few days. Bach and Sasha so
enjoyed the bones and scraps. We are sad to think this may have
contributed to Bach's illness.
Chris would occasionally give Bach and Sasha Milkbone cookies, however,
they always knew I was an easy touch for a few table scraps. It didn't
seem like that much, nor that often... did it contribute? Probably...
It's amazing how one goes through all the "should I haves"... exercised
him more, fed him less, etc. Bach gave us no warning what he was dealing
with until 10 days from the end. The surgeon said "he's been adjusting
to the IBD for some time given the thickness in the lining of his
intestines." Yet he ran, played, ate and had all regular movements up to
that 10 days.
The vet had given Bach a checkup and shots three months ago, listening
to his heart, looking at his teeth, cleaning his ears. His weight was
down slightly (95 from 103), however, he always had eaten less in the
heat of Summer and besides, Bach looked and acted great!
Bach'd been losing his hearing some and had an ear infection. It was
treated successfully with antibiotics six weeks prior to this. However,
it went away and while his hearing seemed to be less than normal, it was
improving a bit.
I began giving Bach more hand signals, so as he aged we'd still be
communicating well. Still, I was sad that the loss of hearing was
effecting his energy some and seemed to make him look and act a bit
older. Then his hearing seemed to get better and he was back to his same
self. Yea!
Losing his hearing. That's what I thought would be the worst of it.
Orion, our previous German Shepherd lived to be 13. Orion had hip
trouble and had to be helped up a lot near the end. It began mid life
for him, so we felt lucky that Bach showed no sign of it. Bach was just
a healthy, happy dog without a care in the world... well skunks maybe
(and lightening)!
We are looking to plant an Apple tree and scattering Bach's ashes there
in the coming days. Thought about just letting him stay in the
Pathfinder he loved, but that doesn't seem reasonable.
How is it that I keep catching a glimpse of Bach as I walk around the
house and land? When we were building, he was always "ready to go" to
the new property (actually anywhere). Bach'd ride just savoring every
moment, often resting his nose on the side window and gazing out
wistfully. I loved looking out the rear view mirror and seeing those two
big ears sticking up!
Chris and I feel like we're all cried out and then one of those subtle
reminders make us stop and realize... the beautiful memories will always
be with us and we are so deeply thankful to Bach for them. However,
there is a deep, deep void in our lives right now.
I'm glad Bach's home now (in more ways than one).
With love, Martin & Chris |