Mack and I were just sitting together on the porch that faces the prettiest part of our yard. It followed an attempt to feed him a new food and hoping that he would be so hungry he could overcome the pain for just that little bit I gave him. It wasn't a good experience. He ran again as if I was hurting him and it broke my heart.
So we went outside and said let's sit on the window seat and we did...looking out on nature and the beautiful and gorgeous day it is today and trying to wrap my mind around deciding when I will need to let him go. I can't be prepared no matter how hard I try and I even spoke with the hospice people this afternoon and felt like, no, we don't need you now, we can deal with this another time, but knowing in my heart of hearts that isn't true, that we are facing it much sooner than we want to admit.
But if I can't commit to them coming over and talking to us now, then I know I'm not ready to put him to sleep but he really isn't doing well at all and I know this and I know that when they go in tomorrow and do x-rays that it will be living, black and white proof, digitally that he is not going to be with us much longer. And to top it off I caught sight of him, as if for the very first time, in the mirror this morning, and it looked like a fun house mirror of his face, because there was a huge distortion to his jaw that has taken place in such a short time. I never noticed it until today. His little jaw has gone side ways and we are actually seeing his little lower jaw jutting out where the upper jaw used to be...it is beyond tragic to know this is what is happening to him and how uncomfortable he must be. There in lies the sadness I'm feeling at this moment and beyond, because even though I am not ready to let him go, this decision may be out my hands by Thursday. How can we let him suffer with the pain that he must have? Can it truly be controlled by just a simple pill every day? It can't happen and it won't be for his best interests if we make him suffer through another few days of trying to get him to eat something. It won't matter if it's filet mignon, if he can't eat it, it is shear torture for him and we have to acknowledge that much sooner than we expected to ever have to deal with it.
So it's a goodbye of such epic tragic proportions that my heart literally aches. I used to say there goes my heart and with his passing it will feel as if it's being ripped out of my chest and I once said, I want to go where he goes...It is a terrible feeling that my life is nothing compared to what he means to me. I have tried so hard to think positively and to consider I was so lucky to have had him this long, but no matter what amount of time I've had him it will never be enough in my heart of hearts. He is my heart, simply put, we made a connection and he is my love. A love of such great sweetness and tenderness that without it I will be left adrift and alone. Even though I have my wonderful husband, for some reason this loss will feel as if a huge part of my life has gone cold. It is a horrible feeling and one I have fought to not experience and yet being human we will have to go through it one way or another.
So my little Mackster is my heart and with his passing I will lose a huge part of it and the hole will be huge and painful and horrible and all the adjectives you can think of that describes loss.
I hate cancer and I hate this with all my being and there is nothing anyone can do about it and I am mad and sad and angry that this is what he faces and we lose.
We love you Diggie Dog and we will for the rest of our days and beyond.
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