Emma and Malachy Enjoy a Happy Summer Day (2009)

One of my favorite photos...

Miss Emma and Miss Mama

Sometimes, there are those brief moments when you get this *super-powered* emotional boost. These interjections of the day are truly priceless and alleviate some of the exigency. One of today's favorite moment was courtesy of Emma. I had a bit of a headache and decided to lie down for a few minutes, until the Ibuprofen kicked in. Emma crawled up onto the bed and proclaimed, "Hi Miss Mama." She then put her face close to mine and we looked into each others eyes and both smiled and laughed. She began to give me about ten quick little kisses on the lips and we laughed some more. I am grateful for her silliness, kindness, empathy, and sweetness. I am truly blessed to have such a beautiful daughter. How did I get so lucky?

Emma, I love you with all of my heart, my precious girl. I will always be your "Miss Mama."

A Time to Grieve

I understand that my friends have all of the very of best intentions. My sadness of Malachy's passing is painful. Maybe they see the sadness and anxiety manifesting itself on my face. Maybe they have gotten a quick glance at the beginning of one of those involuntary warm tears, beginning in the corner of my eye (Although I do my best to suck it up in front of others). Maybe they have not had the closeness, the warmth, the friendship a beloved pup can bring.

I intend no disrespect toward my wonderful friends whom I am blessed to have in my life. I am grateful for their concern. But, with respect to their opinions, I just do not want think about getting another pup right now. Malachy can not be replaced. It is unfair to my family at this point in time. It is also unfair to any potential new canine family member.

I must grieve for Malachy before I can be open to the possibility of loving another beloved puppy dog. I understand that may sound counterintuitive to some. But, I must continue in this journey...the business of grieving.

Who ever told you life was fair?

I am still trying to become accustomed to our family's new *normalcy* since Malachy passed. I am no longer sobbing as I did the day he died. Or, the next day. Or that day after that. The sobbing has been replaced by warm, soft tears flowing down my cheeks.

There are moments when the pragmatism of his passing predominates my thinking. After all, death is part of life. We all experience loss. We all grieve. We all mourn.

I have experienced the passing of many whom I have loved with all of my heart...my parents, my grandparents, my uncle, my cousin, close friends, and dogs, after all.

Shouldn't I be a bit more stoic? Less sentimental? Less emotional? Less sad? Shouldn't all of these losses toughen me up a bit? Or, is it that these losses have caused me to react strongly to loss? I realize that I am *hyper-reactive* to loss. These losses have strengthened me greatly. They have also weakened me greatly.

Why do I grieve so for Malachy? He was not a human being, after all. So, why do I miss him so?

Why? Because. Because, he was my sweet boy. Because I truly loved him. Because, I still do.

Death is part of life and, despite it's wonder and magic, life is sometimes very painful.

I know, I know..I haven't forgotten that all important lesson my Mom would often remind her children, "whoever told you life was fair?"

Don't worry, Mom. I haven't forgotten what you taught me.

No one ever said parenting was easy

Eamon is wearing me down with his oppositionally defiant behavior. Day and night, he pushes and pushes and pushes as hard as he can. I could never have envisioned that a five year old boy would give me such a run for the money.

Is it bedtime yet?

Longing

I miss my sweet pup.

I miss snuggling with him, especially after Eamon and Emma have gone to bed. I miss playing with him. I miss rubbing and scratching him behind his ears. I miss taking walks with him, especially our jaunts to the bus stop to pick up Eamon. I miss holding him. I miss looking into his big, brown eyes. I miss watching him run and play in the yard. I miss playing in the leaves with him on beautiful autumn days. I miss the sound of his nails clicking against the hardwood floor. I miss seeing him in his quiet spot, under the dining room table. I miss watching the kids pet him and hug him.

I catch myself looking for him, for only a brief moment, only to have reality remind me that he is no longer here.

I miss my sweet pup.

Pour l'amour des chiens

Plus je connais les hommes, plus j'aime les chiens.

The Beauty of Autumn

Bernard, Eamon, Emma, and I decided to get out and about to enjoy the beautiful autumn day. This afternoon, we drove out to Minnetonka Orchards in Mound. Early last week, the kids had walking pneumonia which forced them to rest and lay low for a few days. They easily recovered during this "Mom prescribed" rest time thanks to the power of pharmaceuticals (the Z-Pac). Needless to say, Eamon and Emma were anxious to resume their normal routine. Unfortunately, our plans were thwarted as we experienced a phenomenon that reinforces the belief that weather in the northern midwest is unpredictable and often eschews general expectations of so called *normal* weather patterns. This EARLY OCTOBER unpredictability presented as snow and significantly lower than seasonal average temperatures, The weather was cold, dark, dreary, and cloudy, with a mix and snow and icy rain to complete the picture, Consequently, this put a cramp in our plans to play at the park, go for walks on the trails in the neighborhood, and the most anticipated autumn activity, playing in the multitude of leaves that carpet our yard! We rake as many leaves as we can and create large piles in which to jump, crawl, hide, and roll.

Macintosh, Madeline and Malachy took part in this tradition with equal excitement. Macintosh and Malachy truly enjoyed this activity as much as the kiddos. This fall, I will miss Malachy's presence in our annual family tradition. During our autumn leaves round-up, he would become excited as we raked the leaves in the large pile as soon it would be time to to play! He would run around the yard, energized, as he knew we were going to pile leaves on him and bury him in the large pile. He would wag his tail and smile. He was so happy to play in the leaves. So happy to be outside in the fresh air. So happy to be with his family. He would smile.

I will miss his presence tomorrow as we play in the leaves. It will be much fun playing with the kids and jumping in the pile with them. Madeline mght want to get in on the action, too ! Humans or canines, they will all be buried in leaves only to jump out from under to run across the yard, only to return in a mad dash and leap into the large pile of leaves. We will all have fun. We will all mile. We will all laugh. We will all giggle. Hopefully, Eamon and Emma's mother will remember to take many photos of these outside adventures for posterity's sake. Shortround will not be there to join in the afternoon's escapades. We continue to process through our grief and will miss him as we have for the past two weeks.

Life goes on. The reassessment of normalcy begins, Life has changed and what once was only two weeks ago is no longer. We begin to create our new reality without our sweet pup, We are still grieving his loss as we accept this change and embrace this new normalcy. Life goes on. Because it must.

The Report

Dr. K. called this morning after receiving the autopsy/necropsy report from the U of M. His conclusion: "Malachy didn't have a chance."

The Paw Print

Bernard went to the U of M to pick up Malachy's cremains this afternoon. (I really, really, really dislike the word "cremains.") I am grateful that he did so as I was dreading the return trip to the veterinary hospital. The cremains are contained within a maroon velvet pouch.

The veterinary clinic included a sympathy card as well as a letter from the veterinary clinic's staff social worker, offering individual and group support services. This is a free service provided to all clients of the clinic and hospital. I am impressed and grateful that this social work care is available to those who grieve over their animals' illness and/or death.

We also received this clay paw print obtained by the doctor shortly after Malachy passed away. Bernard was a bit surprised that Malachy's paw print was so big, upon looking at the imprint. I looked at the print, reminded of how big his paws were as a puppy, seemingly so out of proportion to his small puppy body.

I hold tightly this happy memory of our sweet Shortround.