Apathetic No Longer

I've been taking some time off to recover from the death of my beloved dog Polly. Since she was always with me, while I did anything from sitting at the computer, to doing dishes, to going grocery shopping, her loss has left a big hole. She vegetated in front of the TV with me and slept with me at night. (This photo is of her at bedtime, taken about 10 days before she died; she always took the lion's share of the bed.) She began getting ill at the end of November; the vet said that he felt she had a tumor somewhere and that he couldn't really do anything without expensively prohibitive tests. We authorized a few tests to rule other things out, but the only thing he found was elevated calcium in her blood, so I blithely took her home thinking he couldn't possibly be right. Three weeks later she was visibly failing; it came to a head in the wee hours of Christmas Eve, after she had been vomiting and shivering in pain all day. An emergency vet told us she was riddled with cancer and suffering considerably, so we had her euthanized. As I cradled her in my arms, they gave her the injection to send her to sleep. She didn't struggle, just let out a huge sigh, and then her body went limp. I continued to hold her after they gave her the second injection to stop her heroic heart, and didn't let go until the vet signaled her heart had stopped.

I still haven't let go. I don't know if I can. My heart is still in that room, even though her ashes already adorn our mantel, in an undistinguished black box.

It's been difficult trying to find my way again. My husband still has the cat, who adores him and has gladly taken what used to be Polly's place, in his lap in the mornings (she was a 70-pound boxer-basset hound mix but she always managed to fit) so I really don't think he's feeling her loss as keenly as I do. The cat is only interested in me when her food bowl is empty, whereas Polly was always leaning against me or lying at (or more properly, ON) my feet. She used to come up to me when I was sitting in a chair and press her head between my legs until I opened them, then put her head down and press into the bottom of the chair; this was my cue to lean over her from above, put my forehead on her back and wrap my arms around her belly, then give it a rub. I called this a "hug", and it didn't take long for her to learn the word. It became a daily occurence; she initiated it as often as I did. When guests came over and I asked Polly for a hug, they were inevitably charmed by her gesture, as I was. This was just one of the many unique habits she had. She was 70 pounds of love and loyalty, and my life feels empty without her.

I am, however, beginning to take an interest in things again. I've been following closely a few writer's blogs I found and am learning quite a bit about agents and publishing. It's been whetting my appetite for writing again, so I've enrolled in an online creating writing course, mostly to refresh my memory, because college-level Creative Writing was close to 30 years ago now for me, and I've forgotten more than I've ever learned. I have two different mystery novels started on my hard drive, but am thinking about going in an entirely different direction.

Now that I'm back, I have to get with some of my blogging friends and learn more about how to personalize my blog. I don't know any html or how to link other sites, or even to post pictures yet, but I'm willing to learn. If any of you have any hints, feel free to let me know! I've found that learning new things keeps life moving forward, however unwillingly it may carry me along at times.