Random Shots

Just another day in the life of my dog. He loves the porch outside and since the weather has been fabulously cool and dry, he sits on "his" bench, which was finally finished after a bit of time. It was more a process than was expected, but they are what they are, a simple place to sit and look out over his yard. He loves them while little Oreo is not a fan of anything "outside" except things in the yard. She begs to go in from the porch and never wants to stick around in it, but this is where the Mackster is most at home.

Really can't help it, I just keep taking pictures and unfortunately they both have learned that whenever that awful camera comes out, the pictures are coming too. As soon as he hears the shutter focusing, it's time to look away at every opportunity. Makes it rough to really get a good picture. But after all he's my only "model" at times, so he's the one I will get most often.

These were shot today, on a good day. He is bright, happy, alert, rested and eating well. We couldn't ask for more than that.

A picture like this is not usual for me, I usually always have my eyes behind the lens and I'm always tracking any movement someone makes, but this shot was just one that I put the camera down, looked at him from my vantage point but with the camera well below me and just focused and shot...I love it and it's more natural and more "artistic" as a composition.  I think I will try this option more often on other things and people, thanks to Mack for not liking your photo taken, you've given your Mom a new perspective

No Sleep

It was a long night last night and I'll get into that later, but for now this reminds me when, for the very first time I had this little guy, I was so afraid I would hurt him in some way. He was tiny and what seemed like to me a fragile being. He was actually quite tough and I guess it could be likened to taking home a newborn for the very first time, terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. Only the little guy never "grew up" to become a monster teenager, so there's that.

Unfortunately throughout his life, he's had some awful stuff done to him and most of the time it's been as a result of our trying to be good parents to him.  Once when he was given his annual shots in the afternoon, he preceded to have a massive allergic reaction twelve hours later at 1:00 in the morning and had to be rushed to the emergency veterinarian hospital about 25 minutes away. It seemed like it took hours to get there when in reality at that hour it was a straight shot into the hospital and no one was waiting. Upon arriving they took my rather limp and almost unresponsive dog to the back room and when we asked what we were waiting for, they told us, well, we're hoping to save his life...who knew?  When he came home he was stuck like glue to me and wouldn't leave my side. He slept the rest of that morning like a rock...while we went about our day in a state of sleep deprived delirium.

Another time we were having a chip inserted into him for identification. A simple and easy procedure we thought. I mean, how many dogs have had it done and never had a problem? Thousands and even his little sister Oreo had it done the same day by the same veterinarian, but not my little guy. He had a lump grow ominously around the injection site and we treated it and kept taking him to the vet. to find out what was going on. Finally after all the antibiotics and at one point consideration of a biopsy, some really nice guy I didn't know in the local pet store said to me, do you suppose it could be a staph infection? Sure enough, after taking him back to our old and original veterinarian,  they did a major resection of his poor little skin almost all the way around his rather small chest and took out necrotic tissue. We were again reminded of how tough he was, but not so tough that he didn't whimper and cry out in his sleep and cuddle even closer to me. The only time he would calm down and not cry was when I would place my hand on his side and just pet him softly. He would calm down and eventually relax enough to go back to sleep. I couldn't go back to sleep and stood watch for the next whimper and cry. It was a long night all those nights ago. Just as last night was and now we fear more nights ahead.

Last night was long because he NEVER went to sleep. He was extremely restless and agitated. He kept licking his leg, his ear was bothering him and he scratched it, he moved a million times, never settling for any length of time in any one position, he was under the covers, on top of the covers, on my side and on my husband's side, back to my side, head on pillow, back legs kicking me, up against me so tightly that I couldn't move my legs or upper body, back to licking, sighing, licking as if he was tasting something and maybe one time out of the entire night, he slept for about an hour, total...needless to say, I wasn't sleeping at all. I worried about his advancing symptoms, I worried about what I could give him at 2:00AM, 4:00AM, even 7:00AM, since we hadn't discussed the type of pain medication that would be most effective except the one we had. He wasn't exactly the normal dog and he wasn't acting like our sleepy headed Mack. He was miserable.  Finally at around 5:00AM  I put him in his crate, just to give me a few minutes of rest without his moving around, and instead of relishing his own place, his own bed, he whimpered to let him out.  It took a long time to train him to not sleep with us, so this was like going back in time, but I don't have the heart to say, NO Mack, I can't NOT be his comfort.  All I can say is sleep deprivation may be my lot in life for the next few months. I'll have to learn to cat nap I guess. Or at the very least keep him up and awake so he's not sleeping all night on the couch or chair by me, but active and awake, and busy and then maybe a Benedryl to give him some allergy relief and a pain killer to keep him pain free.  Maybe this is the new normal for Mack.  I hope not, but one doesn't know what to expect with my little Diggie Dog.

Meeting Mack

Not much to report on this day, the day after Thanksgiving. He is noticeably quieter today and not up to running around as much. Definitely doesn't seem to have the "spark" you notice in him. Maybe it's the cold, he seems to want to curl up in blankets we have all over the house. Maybe it's just cold feet. He did get his turkey though and loved it! But we've been slowly changing over his diet to a more raw form of dog food, introducing it very slowly and cautiously so we're not creating stomach upset, but so far he's chowing down like there's no tomorrow.  I try to remind myself that it's because I know he has cancer that I'm noticing more of his behavior changes and I realize had we not found out about his cancer, we wouldn't think anything about his behavior, but now I'm keyed into any nuance of change in it.  It's expected, I had this same thing going on with my Dad and every time I looked at him I wondered what I should expect in the coming days, whether he would leave us that day or the next.   He surprised us all by living about 18 months after being diagnosed with inoperable colon cancer. He probably succumbed to liver failure and not really the "cancer" and thankfully he went peacefully.

We look at our little Mack as having almost similar traits as my Dad, full of strength and grit, like his name, Mack, he runs like the semi truck that goes and goes, and if he runs into something or falls, he just gets back up and goes at it like there is nothing wrong.  He is as tough as the Mac truck, but just a little dog full of energy and spirit. I hate to lose that in him as we go on this journey, I don't want to say goodbye to that indefinable thing about him that everyone responds to when they see him. I know that people do, because wherever I take him anywhere and nowadays it's mostly doctor visits, everyone oohs and aahs over him because he does have that special spirit within him. I've felt that since the very first day I met him. Originally I considered him for the therapy dog program. He was the right weight, size, and temperament and we worked on the skills that he needed to do that, but when he hurt his knee and we knew that the other one wasn't in any better shape, we decided for his sake not to enroll him. He would have been a great dog for it because he truly had all the skills and was smart to the point that if you showed him once what you wanted him to do, he just did it and remembered it the next time. But with his injury he was protective of his hind legs so we were worried he'd get hurt in some way.

My first meeting with Mack was like meeting someone you've loved from the very first moment. I can't really explain this special relationship we had together, it was like we'd known each other for a long time. My friend Lisa had gotten him as a puppy for her and her three kids. He was such a tough little guy at the time, putting up with very young children who would do just about anything to him and he would lap it up. He loved kids. He ran around chasing them, nipping at them, running to and fro and having a raucously good time.  Due to circumstances that were happening at the time in my friend's life, she asked if we could babysit him while she went away.  We took him and loved him, but we returned him at the end of the two weeks, knowing that he knew our home wasn't his home. Unfortunately things were rapidly changing for my friend and she was facing a large move with three very young children and she was going to have to find a job, so she asked us if we would adopt him, saying that of all the people she wanted him to go to it was us.  I immediately agreed to take him, since those two weeks were so much fun and I knew then that I was in love with this little guy.  So I made my way over there and took him home with me that day and he cried and whimpered when we left their house. He was about 8 months old at the time and I know in my heart he grieved for his lost family. It was heartbreaking to us to see him at times but I know it must have been even sadder for him because we were childless, a quiet couple with no other dogs, only cats, and he was thrust into our home with no one to play with save a set of cats who wanted nothing to do with him.  Oddly enough we lived next door to an almost exact duplication of the three children he used to belong to, but the youngest was a little girl truly afraid of dogs, but the other two loved to play with Mack outside with them.  He'd see them outside and run to them as fast as he could but as soon as he realized they weren't members of his other family,  he'd lose interest in them. He knew they weren't his children.  For the longest time, he seemed like he was just staying with us and waiting out his visit. It broke my heart to see him and I worried that he would never truly feel he belonged to us. A few years later, my friend came to visit us and when she slipped out the door without saying goodbye, he ran to the door and whined...talk about a heart broken mess I was seeing that! I worried we'd made a mistake and talked about giving him back to her. I felt like I'd taken him from his real home. I wanted him to love me and not think about being somewhere else. But slowly over time, when he knew I guess that he wasn't leaving our home, he became our dog.  One day she  came to visit him again, he laid on her lap, licked her hand, then jumped down and started playing with his little sister, Oreo.  When she left that time, there wasn't any whining or following her out to go with her, he went off to grab a toy and tussle with his sister again. He was home.

Thankgiving...not so sure...

Can it be possible that it's already Thanksgiving and I'm finding it hard to be grateful? It truly is hard to be "thankful" when watching my little dog and thinking about his issues. I find it hard to say thank you for his cancer and facing his loss in the future and harder still to be grateful when I know there isn't a thing I can do about it.  I am elated he is still with us and I chastise myself for not being grateful for even the littlest of things, yet it's still hard to say thank you when it's osteosarcoma.

What I'm struggling to do this Thanksgiving is to be thankful that I still have him greeting me at the door with his special howl/cry/yowl/yip/bark greeting, his wagging tail, his bright eyes looking up at me. Thankful for the sweet dear friend who gave him to me, because she loved him as much as I do. I can be thankful he's been healthy up until now and loved his entire life. I can be thankful that he loved me and honored me with his love and for his desire to be with me wherever I am and for wanting to snuggle and sleep with me at night. I can be thankful that at present he is having almost all good days.  Those are the precious thank you's I say every night in my prayers. I thank God for giving him to me for one more day and for watching over him.

But I've figured out why he is having mostly good days and that is because after talking to the oncologist and figuring out some of what she said, bone cancer doesn't cause too many symptoms until it spreads...The insidiousness of it is that it spreads in almost all cases. The jaw type has a slight edge in that it doesn't move as fast, so that is one thank you I must say out loud, but it does spread eventually. That is where the symptoms come into play, because once it's spread to wherever it's going to go, then you see the health effects depending on what organ or spot it's invading. In other words it's stalking my little Mack like a snake, once it bites, it's spreading,  and then we deal with the effects. I understand that if it's been there a while...it could be somewhere else and where it goes will be what takes him away from us. To top it off if it's growing (at whatever rate it is growing) it can lead to very painful symptoms so we have to be ready for that as well. I'm praying that it's not growing personally, thank you very much~

Damn this osteosarcoma and damn it for coming after my dog.

But what I say to you, you stinky, awful, terrible, bone cancer, GOOD LUCK TAKING HIM because I'm going to come at you with everything I have and then some and I'm going to pray, pray and pray some more and I'm going to be thankful for every ounce of happiness I can squeeze out of every minute that he's here.  I will be truly grateful then for so many things, like arms to hug my diggie dog Mack, lips to kiss the top of his head and legs to carry him where ever we have to go.  It's done, osteosarcoma,  you have a foe now, and using a metaphor of osteosarcoma being like a snake, well meet your Mongoose.

You get my heart racing...

You still get my heart racing...that's the song on my computer right now and I think sometimes a love song can be used for the pets we love...so I changed the words slightly to apply to my Diggie Dog Mack. The song is called Never Stop, by Safety Suit. It's a group that opened for another well known artist and it turned out that I loved these guys much more than the star~.  So here's the two versions, left is theirs, right is mine. This is dedicated to my Diggie Dog Mack...(only wish I could put the actual song on...):


This is my love song to you                                            This is my love song to you
Let every woman know I’m yours                                  Let every one know, I'm yours
So you can fall asleep each night, babe                           So you can fall asleep each night, puppy
And know I’m dreaming of you more                             And know I'm loving you more

You’re always hoping that we make it                            I'm always hoping we'll be together
You always want to keep my gaze                                  I always want to keep your gaze
Well you’re the only one I see                                         Cuz you're the only one I see
And that’s the one thing that won’t change                     And that's the thing that will change

I’ll never stop trying                                                        I'll never stop trying
I’ll never stop watching as you leave                              I'll never stop watching as you leave
I’ll never stop losing my breath                                       I'll never stop losing my breath
Every time I see you looking back at me                         Every time I see you looking back at me
I’ll never stop holding your hand                                     I'll never stop holding your paws
I’ll never stop opening your door                                     I'll never stop opening your door
I’ll never stop choosing you babe                                    I'll never stop choosing you puppy
I’ll never get used to you

And with this love song to you                                        And with this love song to you
It’s not a momentary phase                                               It's not a momentary phase
You are my life, I don’t deserve you                                You are in my life, I don't deserve you
But you love me just the same                                          But you love me just the same
And as the mirror says we’re older                                   And the mirror says you're getting older
I will not look the other way                                             I will not look the other way
You are my life, my love, my only                                   You are my life, my love, my only diggie dog
And that’s the one thing that won’t change                      And that's the one thing that won't change.

I’ll never stop trying                                                        I'll never stop trying
I’ll never stop watching as you leave                              I'll never stop watching as you leave
I’ll never stop losing my breath                                       I'll never stop losing my breath
Every time I see you looking back at me                        Every time I see you looking back at me
I’ll never stop holding your hand                                     I'll never stop holding your paws

I’ll never stop opening your door                                    I'll never stop opening your door
I’ll never stop choosing you babe                                    I'll never stop loving you puppy
I’ll never get used to you                                                 I never want to let you go

You still get my heart racing                                           You still have my heart strings.

As an aside:

Today's new information consisted of receiving an email response from the chief oncologist at a veterinarian college about two hours away from us. It seems we could go there with him for another opinion and another surgical option if things need to move faster than what is happening now. We will see tomorrow, seems that is the focal point now, the big meeting on Tuesday with the veterinarian oncologist. We have the appointment at noon, so no food, just water for the poor little guy. He loves his breakfast so this is rough.  We will have to humor him I guess. I have to gather a few things for the meeting. 

I imagine I may be slow to post the next day's blog until I can absorb all the details, thoughts, ideas, or sadness, we all have to process it in our own time. So off to bed and a new day tomorrow.  Night night my sweet puppy.  He waits now for me to light somewhere so he can be there.  What love.

Sunday Afternoon

We face a busy week, the Diggie Dog and I. My husband and I are planning our schedules around the Oncologist appointment and the servicing of my car, so that should hopefully make life a bit easier. We both have work, many calls to make and several people to talk to.  Especially the dental veterinarian in Sarasota for the time frame we're dealing with since the holidays are coming up. He is going out of town then.  We have to maintain the car for obvious reasons, but more importantly we both will be there to hear the advice of this young oncologist at the veterinarian services.  It will be a good thing to hear the words of encouragement but also realistic words of advice. You have a tendency, as we all do, to only hear the words that fit into your expectations. You will hang onto any encouraging piece of information as if it's the only life line out there and forget the rest. Maybe that's a better way to cope, but when you say to yourself, did I do it all, did we make the right decisions, if you're really honest with yourself, you'll remember that some of what was negative was there all along.  Imagine listening to someone telling you about someone you don't know.  You walk away and someone else says who were you talking about and you try to remember what they said about that person. Probably out of the many things you heard, the things that got your interest were the ones you remembered.  So if the oncologist says those things we "want" to hear, we will probably only remember those words. That's ok, we have to hang onto something positive through this.  There has to be something to hold on to, hope springs eternal after all. We want hope, we want that ray of light to shine down on us and if we hear only positive things, well, that's the way it is.
 Speaking of a ray of hope, we went to this cute little shop in the ritzier part of town on Sat. and found this great girl named Jennifer, the owner of this incredible little dog food and treat store. What a ray of hope and light. I know that God directed us there because she was full of knowledge about food and diet and we happened to tell her about our dog and she said, wow, someone else had just come in with similar issues with their dog.  She showed me a brochure about a new program for cancer in pets and she said that it's made up of various veterinarian oncologists who are working on a medical treatment that has had wonderful results on dog cancers. I picked it up and will surely have another piece of the puzzle in my hands when we talk to the oncologist. If anything I'll contact the group to find out who else might be working with them on this and go to them. It's worth a try, why not? We have only one precious thing to lose and it's more time with our beloved Maltipoo and at some point I know we will try anything. He is beside me now peacefully sleeping on his special rug...turns out they love those fleece blankets the best, so we have several all over the house. If you want to find one of them, they are usually curled up in them all warm and snug.
 So while all this is going on, our little Diggie Dog Mack doesn't know the difference. Somewhere I read that we should act more like our dogs and we would learn a lesson in living. I'm pretty sure that a dog's life isn't so bad and being more like a dog might just get us through this time in our lives...they easily accept things, they don't worry about the future and they love treats and going outside and being with us...that's what we need to remember through this.

Today was a day I thought I would try to avoid, but as it turns out I went into work anyway, thought I would sit home and brood I guess. I wasn't too sure what I would do if I didn't go in, there isn't much you can do with your dog at times, and working will pay for his treatment, we have bills to pay and a big loan coming due in January, so I went in.  I decided that I'd better make some phone calls to ensure I had all the information concerning the biopsy reports for the oncologist, but I knew our vet. would make sure they had that information. But I had read on a new group posting that I joined that I could call a certain university and use it to get a free consultation with a veterinarian at the school. So I called to have one faxed to me at work. As it turns out that was probably the reason I was supposed to be at work so I could easily have that done and then make phone calls after that.  I read it and reread  it and even thought I don't know all that it means, I realized what they were saying. He doesn't have great chances but he has a chance. He won't live years, maybe months, but he could have another year. It became pretty important right then to talk to the surgeon/dental/veterinarian who did the biopsy to ask him some questions and so I called one of his three offices and tried to see when he was going to be available and they told me that he'd be out of town for the holidays. I can tell you I felt a moment of desperation come over me because I was losing time and worried this should be done right away, but I calmed myself down and realized, well, they did say this wasn't a fast growing cancer, so maybe we still have time. Besides the oncology appointment is the following week, so we'd still have to take her recommendations and go from there.
After going through about four different numbers I managed to have someone at the last number answer and it turned out to be the veterinarian who was with the doctor/vet/surgeon when we first came in to get a consultation and schedule the biopsy. He didn't do the biopsy procedure but he's done several and was extremely patient and kind and informative and answered almost all of my questions.  I guess God knew I had to have that conversation and He also knew that I would be able to feel free to talk with him at work.  Answering all my questions and concerns was the biggest thing I needed at that time. It did clarify my thoughts again, which I think each time I talk with the next person it will continue to do so. They aren't such jumbled and confused thoughts anymore. But are they happy thoughts, relieved ones? No they are just facts.  He is going to leave us and we will not be sure of the time.  But driving home tonight my thoughts were that not one of us knows the time of our passing, there are those who are here for a short time or a very long time and no one knows when the end comes. For us to think we can prolong a life just because we don't want to let go, well, we have to learn to let go.
And then back to the computer and there it is, another ray of hope. It's a combination of therapy using angiogenesis (a research project whereby they starve the blood supply of the tumor and it stops the growth) and there is a story of a dog with osteosarcoma in the leg at 10 months of age.  They give him the concoction and he survives, the tumor goes into remission and they say it will be available for pets soon.  I note the date of the news article, it's 2000, we're now in 2012, what are the odds this is still around or that it even exists? But sure enough, another search finds that there is a group that supports this and is promoting it, it has become available for delivery to veterinarians and may actually become available to humans in future trials but so far the FDA has approved it. Another coincidence, I don't know, but I know that a copy of that will go with me to the oncologist and many more emails and phone calls will be made.  There isn't a cure for this, but I sure as heck won't stop looking...
Maybe it's still not clear but it will be.

Different Views From the Same Place

Sometimes you wonder why you grab onto something and think it sounds so positive and then the next minute it seems as if it has millions of cracks and crashes to the floor, shattered, and you stare at it like you want to scream, please give me something to hold onto.

After trying to mull over in my mind what all my husband related to me about the conversation with the dental veterinarian, I was still left with so many questions.  Going to our regular vet was the key that I thought would unlock our door of confusion and light our way like a lamp. But unfortunately that didn't happen and so I was left with a feeling of despondency worse than the original feeling when we got the diagnosis.  I wanted an honest assessment of the situation and I guess I just didn't ask the right questions to get that so I left there with a referral to an oncologist who I think was their way of saying, let this person be the one to dash your hopes.  I don't want to be the one.  The only comforting thing I came away with was the fact that our vet of over ten years said even if she'd done a dental cleaning all these years, she wouldn't have ever seen this coming. I had felt so guilty about not seeing this sooner, not having his teeth cleaned as regularly because I feared the anesthesia, and I had avoided the issue by never making a dental cleaning appointment, only to find that nothing I could have done sooner would have changed what we're going through now. Maybe a little less bone taken out, but the same diagnosis. Second guessing oneself is par for the course I guess. It was comforting but still so wrong on so many levels.

To top it all off my vet. in all her years of practice has not seen a case of osteosarcoma in the jaw area, so I'm sure she felt wholly unqualified to give me much advice other than to say that the oncologist I was going to would give me the most important information I could use to decide what to do.

So that was Thursday morning and I spent the rest of the day going over and over again what she said and doing endless Google searches looking everywhere that I could find someone or something that would guide me further into the world of osteosarcoma. Call me a masochist but I wanted to know the truth, the whole shebang so I could be prepared, knowledgeable and somehow educate myself about this dreaded cancer.

Meanwhile, soft food for the Diggie, who slept with me last night and laid so close to me that I found myself on the very edge of the bed, butt to my back for almost the entire time we slept.  He, resting so peacefully, stretched to the full extent of his little body, and me, still only able to sleep on 1/3 of the bed. Amazing what a little dog can do.

He looks at me with those beautiful brown eyes and waits for me at the door, wagging his tail and doing his little song to me and I think, how can I say goodbye to him? My little boy who has been by my side all these years. Always ready and waiting on me.  But what if my decision or our decision changes him in some way that he isn't that same little brown eyed puppy? What if I take that part of him that is so special and unique and somehow ruin it.  Tough times ahead for me on this journey and everyone has an opinion.

This is Mack, the Maltipoo. The love of this one little dog is bigger than I can describe. We have shed so many tears since learning of his diagnosis. How can this one little dog create so many gallons of salty tears? Because he is such a super dog. Sweet, loving, cuddly, funny, precious, and even kind to his little sister.  How can one put a good enough description for a fur ball of love?

Devastation and Heartbreak = Confused

Today is only the second day of the realization that our cute little Maltipoo, Mack, the love of my life for 13 years and my constant companion, has something that we can't fix.  I took him to our regular veterinarian today just to get some kind of direction to go in. What is so hard is that you hear the news  and you are left with what to DO with the news.  I don't think you can know it all in a short time but I sure wish it would come down like a ray of sunlight and just illuminate my confused and addled brain right now.

Previously we had a biopsy done of an area that our veterinarian saw as some suspicious tissue growth around one or two of his teeth. Never contemplating that the cauliflower growth would be a type of cancer found in the long bones of large dogs.  The rarity factor? My own veterinarian who I've gone to with all our pets for almost ten years, has never seen osteosarcoma in the jaw before.

So our education begins on the facts, figures, survival rates, past procedures, future ones and maybe even holistic processes that we can try if we're willing to give him a fighting chance.

But here's the thing, do WE want him to have a fighting chance or does HE want to live doing what we force him to do? I think it ends up many times that it's what WE want. Not necessarily what the dog wants. Would he go to the vet. on his own and ask all the questions, well no, he can't, that much I can do for him. But when it comes to taking him to the surgical bay and taking out part of his jaw (excuse the graphic thought there), then would HE choose this for himself? Do dogs and pets really have a 'will' to live like humans do?

I've always said about myself since surviving three or four types of cancers, one extremely serious, just give me the diagnosis and let me go.  I have no desire to enter into the world of hospitals, doctors, tests, and very uncomfortable circumstances where I don't know which way is up or down and I'm sick to boot. If there is a way to control his discomfort, feed him because he wants to eat, play with him when he feels up to it, then isn't that the "quality" of life that I promised him when I adopted him? Isn't that my job as a fur parent to do this for him? What more could I do but to love this little fur ball, give him loving pets and hugs and in this case a loving kiss on the top of his head like I often do.

I will start this with finding out what we can do and go to the place when it's time for us to say goodbye.  I will spend my time with him and love on him with all my heart and soul. I will give him the devotion and love he's given me all these years and I pray that when the time comes that I will be able to say my goodbyes with strength, courage and devotion as no other fur parent can do. I will give him his choice but it won't be to force him to places he wouldn't go to if he had the decision to make.  Because knowing him as I do, when he shakes in the car on the way to the vet, that can't be because he thinks this is a fun trip to take. No, he will be by my side at home.

This begins the roughest journey I will take with my beloved dog Mack.  May I be able to chronicle that as we move toward the inevitable time of goodbye.