We had a rough day yesterday! Billie was trying to explain to me how she likes peanuts, but refuses to chew them. And, a few hours later, she “showed” me that she does NOT digest them. At this point, she was fed up with my stupidity and used her favorite pillow for support…wouldn’t even look at me….
Hi Tumblr friends! I continue to miss Ruda Mae, every single day. However, more and more, I’m beginning to feel lonely, and a feeling that a new puppy could bring a much needed peace!
If any of you tumblr friends, has any leads on a Weim pup, let me know!
I’ve only recently been able to look at a few of the photos of those last few days! This is one of the last bits of love I got from Roo.
….in the blink of an eye everything can change…
As I lay me down to sleep, I pray and I pray and I beg that Ruda will appear in my dreams. Right now, my heart is sand, broken into a zillion tiny pieces and I’m desperately trying to hold it all together, as it relentlessly slips through my fingers. Helpless, I’m picking up the pieces, but only one grain at a time.
There is an indescribable hole in my heart, but I close my eyes and feel Ruda Mae in the warm winds blowing through Southern California. It helps me to believe with all my heart and soul that a spirit as strong as hers will never die.
It was only a month ago that, although slow, Ruda was running, begging for treats and chewing her tennis ball with that focused intensity she always had. Telling people her true age was still being met with disbelief.
“Nooooooo! She looks just like a puppy!”
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On August 29th, we learned Ruda Mae was sick, and as each test resulted in more bad news, I began feeling further and further shut down and lost. Although everything in my life took an immediate back seat to “fixing” Ruda, there was a helplessness I couldn’t control and it was misery. I allowed myself to hear the doctors and realized we were all facing a battle we would most likely never win. However, we are born with an instinct to survive, and taught to think in grand ways when sorting out our place in the Universe. When a curveball knocks you to your knees, it’s hard to shake those thoughts and remember that sometimes, baby steps are the only things we can do. We tried baby steps. We were suddenly sharing our lives moment to moment.
A few days after the devastating news set in, I had an impromptu coffee with my long time friend Tava Smiley. Tava is one of the first friends I made in Los Angeles and she has never failed to brighten a room. Any room! Even before we were roommates for a time, Tava was fundamental in helping me raise Ruda Mae. Years later, I needed people around who shared my love of Ruda Mae, and I wanted Ruda warm with love from those who had always loved her. I had an instinct for how to nurture Ruda, but no clue how to take care of myself. At the time, as I said, I was lost.
I have always loved to write. I love words. I didn’t just fall into the world of music; I sought it out because I loved the magic of a song lyric and the beauty of a simple note or phrase. I loved being a part of the process, but my own writing has always been hidden and reserved just for me. The relationship I held with pen and paper was personal, and rarely shared. Collected over the years, I have box upon box, overloaded with notebooks. Notebooks full of my thoughts, my dreams, songs in my heart, letters, plots and stories; and I can’t remember when or why I stopped, but at some point, I did.
The best moments come so easy and are always so unexpected! As Tava and I sat in the unreasonably warm sun and got lost in conversation, I felt this was one of those moments to seize and treasure. I hadn’t fully realized, but I needed true, easy and unbridled talk so badly. I needed to tell someone who really knew me that I was lost. I needed to say out loud what had been so apparent in my soul. I had to admit that even my last felt purpose, being Ruda Mae’s dad, was being slowly pulled from my arms. Vacancy was taking over, moving in and setting up shop.
I hope and pray that if I have in the past, I will never again overlook a guiding light in my life. I can say with certainty that on this particular day, Tava was a guiding light. As if as simple as taking a breath, she simply suggested my purpose might be to write about Ruda Mae and share it with others. Simple. Easy. A few minutes later I was dancing in my chair, antsy to leave. It was immediately apparent that I was getting buried by so many fears, thoughts, dreams and worry that I needed to set free. As quickly and as easily as that, I grabbed hold of a new purpose. An hour or so later, all my aching was slowly being set free, one word at a time, on paper.
My first post was September 2, 2010. For the first time in years, I unabashedly opened not only my heavy heart and soul, but also my long-forgotten writing. I began with no true sense of a goal, or what this would all mean, but after the initial post, it became crystal clear. The quickness of Ruda Mae’s diagnosis had knocked the wind out of me, and that initial post was the first time even some of my closest friends learned what was happening. That first post, very slowly mind you, set me back on two feet.
Along with the calls, emails, and notes from close friends, the unexpected happened. My little blog made it’s way to old friends who had never met Ruda Mae, but also to complete strangers. I began receiving notes from people across the country who had been through the same grief and worry with their animal friends. Most importantly, for me, I heard from people who were currently going through exactly what I was. A peace fell over me. I wasn’t alone in my love and worry for my Ruda Mae. I found unexpected love and support from faceless email addresses. For all this unexpected encouragement, I’ll forever be thankful!
I planned to update every few days. I wanted to share each doctor visit. I hoped and prayed I would learn and share. With every fiber of my being I wanted Ruda Mae to respond to medicine, to thrive, and I wanted to share and give hope to others. I was meant to find secrets, serums, and special elixirs. I wanted to heal Ruda and in turn, help others to heal theirs.
As the days passed, I couldn’t leave Ruda’s side. The thought of leaving, even for work, sent panic through my veins. I sat with her and I wrote. Some of these days with her, she ate more food than ever, and would jump off the couch and meet friends at the door. These days were comforting and hopeful, but confusing. It was on one of these days that I found myself writing the entry about my worry that I might not know when her time had come.
I’ll eventually be able to share the details of those last few days, but for now, I can only share so much. One night, up all night with no sleep for either of us, her breathing felt labored, and her body weak. I carried her inside and out to use the bathroom. As the sun slowly lit her bed, then mine, I called Jason. It was 6am. There was an instinct and a knowing that wrapped me head to toe. I knew the three of us needed to be together.
Her last day and night were spent with Jason and I both constantly by her side. She ate two cupcakes as her last meal. On September 18th at 11:10am, she went peacefully in her four most trusted, secure and loving arms.
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Ruda Mae. In my heart, I believe you are a puppy again, sleeping in the arms of the luckiest, happiest little child alive. You’re such a good girl Ruda Mae. You’re a good, good girl.
Ruda Mae and Bella “playing”. I know what you’re thinking! ”Oh, how sweet are those two pups playing!”. Well, what you don’t know is that 5 minutes later, Ruda bit one of Bella’s nipples off, and swallowed it whole. Yep, from that day forward, Bella was short a nipple on her right side!
