.. was no good wind at all…
Bad news should always be delivered fast I think. So here it is.
Yesterday when I woke up I discovered that our Old Big Dog had died in the night. I won’t put you through a nostalgic slide show. He was a good dog. And an old dog too. And now he has died quietly in his sleep.
When I looked out the window at dawn, I saw Boo circling and circling around his old mentor (the one who taught him to bark at cars up to 2 miles away) , then sitting and looking at the house, then circling again. When I came out to see – I discovered that, under his blanket, the old dog had died. Right in the line of the sunrise, where he always slept so as to catch the first rays of the day.
Rest in Peace Big Dog. He was almost 18 years old, his name was Cooter and he was found by John as a pup on a construction site, tied with wire, his head at a cruel angle, to a barbed wire fence. Covered in bites and cuts and bruises. John put him in the cab of his truck and brought him home and they have wandered through life together every since – almost 18 years. That is a pretty long relationship.
John buried him in the shade of the tree by the root cellar, then took out a six pack and sat with him a while and allowed the sadness.
Miserably there is more.
Yesterday Daisy’s mastitis began to morph into something really evil, holes appearing in her udder. We have lost the fight to save her. The vet concurred that she is not pregnant and that the end is in sight for her. When this manifested itself one of The Fellowship was here visiting, and she knew a guy who knew a guy who came around straight away. So tomorrow the guy will come back and take her away with him in his big truck and have her put down for me. And that will be that. She is in pain now but soon it will be over. I cannot have her suffering any more of this. I think that many of you saw this coming. Mastitis is awful. I am spraying the sores every hour to keep the flies out, it is all I can do. This will be a long day.
My neighbours heard and came over to pay their respects to the Big Dog and carried in bags of freshly dug carrots and garden treats for Daisy, so she has piles of good tasty food to nibble while we wait. The waiting is pretty hard. Thankfully Daisy is a cow and does not seem to mind. But I could just scream my head off. I am not very good at Allowing the Sadness. I do not go softly. I rage. I rage …
Sometimes don’t you feel like sitting on a stump and just Howling. Just letting yourself Sob – loudly. And when this great sobbing howling misery surfaces we never cry for just that one thing. We cry for it all. We cry for every last one we lost. We cry a litany. We cry for our mothers and cry for our lost babies. We chant all their names and roll our heads and wring our minds, tears running through the dust while we scratch out all their faces and just Bawl. Bawl.
People used to say to me that having a good cry is good for you. Well, I think that is crap. After I cry my thoat aches and my head spins and I feel just awful – then I have to crawl all over the floor and pick up every precious miserable memory and re wrap each one tightly so it will fit back into the Misery Box that I keep in my head. Because I refuse to forget any of them. Then I have to sit on the metaphorical lid of the metaphorical misery box so I can redo the heavy lead latch. Then once all my tears have been choked back down through the throat of the box I turn the Key. Lock. And I am alone again.
I still miss them. I do. But I own my sadness, it will not own me.
But I so thought Daisy was going to make it. I really did.
Well there you are – now we are all crying. But that is Ok.
Tomorrow I will not be here in the farmy blog.
But the next day I will be back. Of course I will. We will. You and I. Because we are The Fellowship and seeing each other through this stuff is what we do. And there is work to be done.
Love from
celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
143 responses to “The ill wind that blew no good”
Both my grandparents died quickly and peacefully in their 90’s, mostly healthy and independent until the end. I miss them, but barely mourned because of the sheer pleasure of knowing that they got what they really really wanted – a good, dignified death. We will miss Big Dog but not agonizingly because he got what we all want for ourselves and our dogs. (I have a 16 yo cocker…I know) Quick, no fuss, while snuggled in bed.
Daisy is the tough one. Tragic and awful. An ancient Hebrew text states “Hope deferred makes the heart sick.” You hoped, acted, believed, urged for her to get better but the loss and disappointment are bitter. I’m so very sorry. So many people will miss her. I’m like you – I don’t grieve gracefully. I rage! I rant and rave and complain to God about this and every past lost that haunts me. I can cry till I make myself sick. But, I know if I don’t let the rage out, I go cold. And that is far worse. Maybe I’ve been reading too much Flannery O’Connor, but I’ve come to believe that when I’m raging, and crying, and broken by grief I’m the closest to being my Best Self, True Self. I hope you take the time to rage it all out.
My other 1/2 started reading your blog & crying @ the same time. Finally was able to tell me about Old Dog & Daisy. We’re both so sorry & then to find out about your chickens also! How sad for you. Am so glad John found “Cooter” when he did & he lived a long life in happiness with love from his humans & his canine friends. Sending sympathy to you, John & all!
I am so, so sorry. Yesterday seems to have been an awful day for many. All we can do is all we can do, and you have done plenty and your best. At least old dog went peacefully and dear Daisy will, too. My heart goes out to you.
All I know how to say is {{{HUGS}}} Is I so understand…and I’m sorry…I’m sorry for the pain and the grief and tears…I am so sorry on the loss of both the furry friends. I am.
Linda
http://coloradofarmlife.wordpress.com
Yes, now I am crying with you. I am glad Big Dog went so peacefully in the sun’s first rays. It is fitting. And I feel what a wonderful life he had, and a long one, especially for such a big boy, Though I’m sure it is hard on both you and John (and Boo and Ton). But Daisy. No, I did not expect this. I did not understand how serious mastitis was…I thought it was like it is in humans, something that just gets better, not something that kills. My heart just breaks, thinking about not having her big head swinging about, opening gates and turning on lights and getting into mischief. I’m so sorry, dear miss c.
I am so sorry, Celi. It was Big Dog’s time. Dying in peace in sleep instead of illness is a blessing. Daisy is loved, and she knows it. Her life was better than most because of it. I was present when my beloved horses had to be put down long ago and I still grieve. It is so hard caring for animals and having them become part of your life and then losing them. You and Daisy struggled together and we all watched and cheered when we thought she was going to be well. What really gets me is the chickens and Mr. Pink. Rage!
And now those bastard minks.
Dear Celi, dear to so many, all of us sharing these great losses. And that rage which must be raged. The love and gratitude we feel for you is flowing to you in great streams this tough, awful day. May it too fill your heart this day and tomorrow, and all the next days.
Thanks to those wonderful animals who gave you and us so much joy, so many smiles, much delight. Hugs from California join hugs from around the world, all swooping into the farmy.
So sorry for you and John, cry your eyes out, hug.
Love,
Robin🐥
Howl and rage, dear one! As elderwomen we know anger, despair and grief are appropriate at times like this. And we know we will endure. With the rest of the fellowship, I’m holding space for you, and hugging you from here. ❤
O my goodness Celi, when it rains it does pour. There’s your three, as in “bad things happen in threes”. It’s a rough life on the farm, and so grateful that you share it ALL here. I pray for your strength.
I think all of the hearts of the fellowship have merged into one large pulsating heart emanating love and compassion for you, for John, for Daisy, for Boos, and all creatures great and small. You are loved.
I was weeping with sadness for you and for John. Then I read about the Bastard Minks… Now there is rage too.
Much, much love to you both and a big hug to Boo, who must be a bit bewildered.
So sorry. A double whammy. Sit with Boo and howl at the sky.
Crying and raging with you. A bad, bad day.