Garden Buddha

Sitting in a chair this afternoon

Write your own obituary at You Died.

Help put monuments to the Bill of Rights in courthouses across the country at mybillofrights.org. (The Statue of Liberty graphic made me cry.)

Religion can have a non-scary place in politics. Street Prophets always leaves me feeling hopeful.

Improbable Research.

Time passes

I don’t understand what’s happened. For the past couple of days it’s felt like Abby is still in the house. It’s not like she’s walking down the hall or standing at the window, but just here. It’s not eerie, and I don’t feel like I’m seeing things out of the corner of my eye — nothing like that. No unexplained sounds or things misplaced. It just feels like she’s not really gone.

And it feels as if we’re at rest. As if things have settled where they should be. As if she and I are both okay now.

But this isn’t exactly it, either.

Wants and Needs

It started with a drop of water in the hallway.

We found a small leak in the attic, and the water had made its way between the walls and out of the top of the bathroom door frame. Some seepage, but nothing horrifying.

Then the roofers came out to make estimates. Turns out we have three layers of shingles. This is a gross violation of codes, and would be enough for a roofer to lose his license. But for us, it means roof repair suddenly got more expensive.

They also found some rot, results from long-term minor leaks. More expense.

So we finally decided on a roofer from the neighborhood with an excellent reputation and a reasonable estimate — about $7500 for tear-off, replacement of rotted decking, replacement of a couple of passive vents, and new 25-year shingles.

Wednesday morning they arrived just after daybreak, a huge crew so that the job could be done quickly (we’re at the tail-end of the rainy season here).

During the tear-off, they found that the plywood decking was disintegrating — it was too thin for a roof and it had all those shingles on it, which not only added weight, but trapped serious heat during the summer, causing the wood sealants to break down.

All the decking will have to be replaced.

Now we’re looking at just over $12,000.

It’ll be good to finally have the roof done right, but here’s some advice for homeowners, especially the previous owners of this house:

Don’t build a sunroom if the roof needs work.

Don’t finish off the garage if the bathroom floor is rotting.

Basic maintenance comes first. It’s much less expensive to maintain than to replace.

I love this house, but every time we go to do some minor renovation, we have to go back three or four steps to fix shoddy, piecemeal repairs. (I’ve cleaned up my language here.) Wall paper covering up gouges, unfinished dry-wall corners, and water damage. No water cut-offs anywhere. Several layers of flooring underpinned by patchwork particle board.

Spend a little to do it right. Geez.

My cynical side wants to believe that the previous owners spiffed up the place to help it sell, but most of the work we’ve had to undo wasn’t just from a few years ago. Three layers of shingles doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a long-term pattern, and one that we’re paying the price for, literally and figuratively.

But after the roof, there’s nothing left that’ll be nearly as expensive. There’s some repiping to do, and eventually we’d like to rewire the house, but structurally it’ll be sound, with no hidden decay waiting to burst forth.

One week later

It’s been a week since we lost Abby. It seems much longer, though. Time has slowed down since we first learned that she was going to be leaving us. After losing Meg the days got longer. Now they’ve slowed to a crawl. The house is quiet, the days unpunctuated by trips outside, feedings, barky interruptions.

We’re working through all of this, staying busy, and we’ve been able to talk and laugh about our lives together. Fortunately we’re not riddled with guilt, wondering if we did the right thing, and we had some time to prepare as her health slipped away.

But the days aren’t yet normal. It’s hard to tell when they begin, because the old routine of getting up early, getting everyone emptied and then fed, then emptied again — the way every day had started for many, many years — is now gone.

Two nights ago she showed up in a dream. She was once again The Happiest Dog Ever, just wanting to say “hey.” When I woke up I felt as if something had worked itself out, and somehow knew that we were all going to be okay.

In the beginning…

Abby’s first haircut, days after springing her from the shelter.

Many thanks to all of you visiting from cuteoverload.com. It’s been less than 24 hours since saying goodbye to the Abster; your kindness has made this day a little easier.

To all our furbuddies, a toast.
Hug ‘em tonight, or spend some time thinking about the ones waiting on the other side.

Letting go

Abby

aka Little Bunny, Bear, Muppet, Squirmelina, Bugdog

December 1991 - February 16, 2006

Lulled to sleep by the sound of grenades exploding

Abby continues her slow decline, but still finds pleasure in being in the room when Ghost Recon 2 is on the Xbox. When the explosions start, she’ll walk in slowly and either settle in front of the tv or on the sofa next to us, snuggled into a sweatshirt that she’s now taken as hers. Soon the sounds of slow, relaxed breathing provide a soothing background to the grenades and gunfire.

Not yet giving up

Abby had trouble waking up this morning. I found her sleeping next to her bed, shivering. She finally came to with a start, unsteadily followed me to the front door, and stood out in the yard a while before doing what she needed to do.

I carried her back in. She’s lost more weight, her rib cage is clearly visible, and she no longer has the strength to jump on the sofa.

She turned down all food this morning, even plain chicken.

By 10am I’d decided tomorrow might be the day. I didn’t want to take her to the emergency vet because they’re not familiar with either of us, and the strangeness might frighten her, so I’d hoped she’d last the day until we could go into the only vet she’d ever known.

She’s been sleeping most of the day, occasionally with hard shivers. If she’d slipped into lethargy or had stopped taking in water, we’d have taken it as a sign that she was ready to go.

But she’s still drinking water, and when she’s not sleeping is attentive and focused.

So we started feeding her with a syringe tonight. She didn’t like it, but she didn’t spit it out. We’re still waiting to see if the food stays down, but we managed to get a good bit of food into her.

There’s no way to know what tomorrow could bring, but for now we’re not feeling helpless.

Bad news

Abby’s bloodwork came back. Her BUN levels — which measure a benchmark toxin in the blood — were over 130. We don’t know how much over, though, because the machine only goes up to this level.

The vet said she has less than a month. Coming back from this level of kidney failure, especially given her age, is unlikely.

So we’re now keeping her comfortable, feeding 4:1 rice and chicken since she won’t eat anything else. She’s slowly losing weight, and seems to be gradually detaching herself from the world.

I can’t yet bring myself to write more about her. She came into my life as a puppy, almost fifteen years ago. We’ve been through a lot of changes together, and she was the one constant in my life, as I was in hers.

I knew this time would come. Just not now. Not yet.