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Tonight: our first steak dinner without Micawber's eyes gazing earnestly at us from knee-level. We almost always eat in the living room, and he would always come lie down in the doorway, keeping an eye on us, until we were almost finished -- at which point he would silently approach and sit on the floor at our feet, trying to convince us via telepathy to give him a morsel. If we took too long in giving him the piece he felt was his due, he'd headbutt us not-so-gently in the thigh to remind us that he was there.
So, for the first time in years, I didn't cut off a small piece and place it at the side of my plate to give to him when I was done. How strange it felt. And how sad.
Today we received two paper cards: one from my mother (who also sent us a lovely vase of flowers on the afternoon he was euthanized) and one from the vet clinic, which included a handwritten personalization from the vet: "You made a very difficult decision -- but it was appropriate." Somehow, I find that comforting.
My mother's card included a photocopy of a poem by Joan Ward-Harris, the coda from the book "Ring of Bright Water":
"... Patience! Time will blur the aching sorrow
And one day sweetly he will come to mind
In gently playful guise: and having smiled --
Aware and not denying, you will borrow
From yourself at each new need to bind
With love a helpless creature.
Give death his due
Or else to emptiness be reconciled."
Also, eastpath wrote a beautiful and touching poem in her Livejournal, dedicated to Micawber.
He was so dearly loved. The ache of parting remains, but I can already sense that one day I will look back on him with pleasure and without regret... and realize how wonderful a life, and how good a death, he had.
So, for the first time in years, I didn't cut off a small piece and place it at the side of my plate to give to him when I was done. How strange it felt. And how sad.
Today we received two paper cards: one from my mother (who also sent us a lovely vase of flowers on the afternoon he was euthanized) and one from the vet clinic, which included a handwritten personalization from the vet: "You made a very difficult decision -- but it was appropriate." Somehow, I find that comforting.
My mother's card included a photocopy of a poem by Joan Ward-Harris, the coda from the book "Ring of Bright Water":
"... Patience! Time will blur the aching sorrow
And one day sweetly he will come to mind
In gently playful guise: and having smiled --
Aware and not denying, you will borrow
From yourself at each new need to bind
With love a helpless creature.
Give death his due
Or else to emptiness be reconciled."
Also, eastpath wrote a beautiful and touching poem in her Livejournal, dedicated to Micawber.
He was so dearly loved. The ache of parting remains, but I can already sense that one day I will look back on him with pleasure and without regret... and realize how wonderful a life, and how good a death, he had.
