It may be that, although I am writing this, it is too ‘disturbing’ to post. We shall see. If I post it, I shall leave this bit in and warn you that you may choose not to read it, which is fine by me. At least you will understand that I was, in some way, reluctant to post it but feel that it should be posted.
I read that one British woman, who lives abroad, is suing the owners of Costa Concordia for the loss of her husband’s ashes.
I’ve always wondered what the fascination is about getting back the ashes. I’ve thought it strange. I mean, the person, as a living human being can make you laugh or cry can love you or hate you – but the ashes? What are they other than a pile of, well, burnt remains.
It’s a bit like ‘things’ really. I mean, I like to have nice things but, you know, they’re just ‘things’ – a piece of wood or metal or plastic or ash. I can’t get upset over a ‘thing’.
But tonight, as a first, I may be going to collect Rufus’ ashes.
Of course, this is for F really, as you might realise. For me, I shall remember the funny way he used to jump up, later to raise his front legs as in a rearing horse and latterly barely making it off the ground, before we went for a walk. Rather than Dino’s complete turn round.
I will remember his pretty face and the way his ‘trot’ was so ‘refined’ unlike Dino’s rather big-arse, swinging gait – Rufus walked like a model.
I shall remember his gentleness when taking food, much like Dino now, before he became blind and would snatch it out of your hand (almost, sometimes, taking your hand too!)
I shall remember the time he caught a live rabbit (although it wasn’t live for long) and then, on returning to the house how he wouldn’t come in until he had eaten every single bit of it. And my worry that it might have myxomatosis, even though, quite obviously, the rabbit didn’t have that.
I shall remember, when I was preparing to drive here with our belongings, how he got in the car about 8 in the morning and wouldn’t leave the car – not for any reason, as if he was frightened he would be left behind. And the drive down with him curled up in a tiny space and stopping often for him to have a stretch.
I shall remember getting Dino and Dino and him playing in the park with a huge tree branch that had come down in a storm, each trying to pull it off the other, lots of growling but no malice in that – it was part of the game – before Rufus became too weak to be able to match Dino.
I shall remember that he was a great dog.
But, of the ashes, I’m not really sure. I have mixed feelings about wanting them in my house. It seems kind of morbid. I must have become old. I think it will just be another thing that will want cleaning. And, anyway, I don’t believe it will be the ashes of Rufus. Just some ash. Not the same thing at all really. But I won’t tell F that. I’ll let him believe what he wants. I would even confirm that it was, if he should ever ask.
Will it be in some nice jar or something terribly gaudy and trashy? After all, in my head, keeping the ashes of something is trashy – or that’s how I thought. It wasn’t done in our family. And I’m a little nervous about how F will take this – whereas, for me, the essence of Rufus remains in my memories, just like the essence of my grandfather is not in some little plot in some churchyard in rural Herefordshire. I can’t get attached to some thing. It has to have a beating heart. Without that it doesn’t bring out the same feeling.
And yet …….
I feel some trepidation at going to the vet. As if there is some real finality about it all. As if, by not getting this, I can imagine him not dead but alive somewhere. As if he might come home. Or, perhaps this waiting for the urn and the ashes is, in some strange way, keeping him more ‘alive’ in my head. Stretching out the death process by over a week.
Don’t get me wrong, there’s not a sadness in these thoughts (although maybe a slightly damp eye). It’s an unknown and strange feeling I have.
But like all the other ‘firsts’ since I’ve come to Italy, I must steel myself and go do this thing, even if I would prefer not to.
I go right.
For Dino, this is wrong.
I wonder why he wants to go straight on.
Earlier, as I quietly called him from the bedroom and, at the moment he realised that we were, in fact, going out for a walk, I wondered how it is that dogs, no matter what time of the day or night, no matter if they are already awake or still asleep, think that any time is a great time to go for a walk?
It has been a while. Before Christmas, F didn’t need to get to work early and so, took the dogs out in the morning, meaning I could get up later.
Then we had all that time off work, meaning that I didn’t have to get up.
Then, until today, F was able to take Dino out.
Until this morning.
Of course, without Rufus, everything is much faster. So instead of 5.25 a.m., as it had been, I set the alarm for 5.45. It’s not much, but any extra is more than welcome.
But this is the first time for weeks and weeks that I have had to get up so early.
Have I mentioned before that I’m not really a morning person? For that matter, I’m not much of an evening person either. In fact, I’m probably what you would call a ‘middle of the day’ person and even that’s doubtful as I get older.
So, I get up, call Dino, close the door to the bedroom and get dressed, Dino becoming more excited as he gets to realise that we are, actually, going to go out. Doing his ‘talking’ thing, as I put my shoes on.
I wrap up well as I know it will be bloody cold out there, the weekend seeming to herald the real start of winter.
But, to be honest, my head is still sound asleep on the pillow and things I am doing are almost automatic rather than with any thought.
We cross the traffic lights and I start to go right. Dino has continued to walk straight on. After a second, I realise he is right. We only go right when it is later (so as to avoid most of the shops and people). At this time in the morning there is rarely anyone on the street and very few cars. The traffic lights are flashing amber, as they do until 6.
He has remembered. His head is NOT still on the floor asleep. I wonder how he can (really) tell the difference? I mean, sure it is early and there are no people around but, really, this is not very much different from, say, Sunday morning, when we go right and not straight on!
As we walk past the café, I also realise that there is a reason that I have my dog coat. It is cold, I have just woken up and, as usual at this time (and with the colder weather), my nose is starting to run. My dog coat includes some tissues. This coat does not.
On the bright side, we are so much faster without Rufus now.
We get to the actual dog area. We go inside. Of course, there are no other dogs. Dino decides he wants to play but here, unfortunately, there is little to play with. Little, except stones. But since I was told they can damage his teeth, I discourage it. But he is having none of the discouragement. He bends his front legs and puts his head to one side on the ground to pick up the stone. I tell him ‘no’ but to no avail. However, he drops it to allow me to pick it up and throw it. I tell him how sorry I am as I throw it outside the fence.
I decide that, as we have no toys to play with, no stick to throw, we should go home.
He finds another stone.
He waits for me to throw it. I kick it outside the fence. I will have to find a toy I can stash in my dog coat for just this very occasion. And I shan’t forget my dog coat tomorrow.
We go home and I get ready and have coffee. Once I have put on my jeans I realise that the zip has broken. I have to go into the bedroom and find another pair by the light of my phone.
As I leave the flat, I quietly open all the doors and quietly close and lock the front door.
It is only at work, about an hour later, that I remember the F wanted to be woken as he had to shave and be at work early. Damn! Luckily (I think), he woke early enough. I guess I will find out later if it was early enough to shave.
This morning was not the perfect morning. Tomorrow will be better.
The trouble with Dino was that he was always ‘in your face'; never still; always wanting attention.
He would watch Rufus and, any time Rufus might be getting more affection or attention, he would be there, looking to get more attention, barging in front of Rufus, latterly, knocking him out of the way.
He was never just ‘still’.
Now he is. He lies there and you have to coax him over to you.
Of course, this makes him seem very sad. So we think he is sad. Or, maybe, he is?
So he is getting extra attention. He has treats more often. He gets more walks, more play, more ‘quality’ time. And he’s not asking for it so often.
But this feeling of him being sad won’t go away.
When he does go out for a walk, he strains at the lead, almost running. As if he has to get somewhere quickly. It seems like he needs to check to see where Rufus is. Again, this is our thought and not necessarily his. But he doesn’t pull on the way back home. Having not found Rufus, maybe he is resigned?
And, whereas I hate myself for assuming he has these human emotions (or, rather, human understanding), it made me email the kennels yesterday. I want him to have a playmate. I don’t like him being this quiet.
The new puppies will be born towards the end of February. That means (if I remember correctly) we could have one at the end of April/beginning of May. He won’t take the place of Rufus. Rufus didn’t take the place of Sam. Each has their own character and therefore bring a different set of dynamics to the household. I’m sure a new puppy would have an effect but what effect, exactly, I cannot say.
But you’ve gotta look forward, right? Right?
Thanks guys for the thoughts and comments about Rufus. I’m afraid I couldn’t really reply yesterday.
There are moments when, unexpectedly, I think of something and it brings a lump to my throat. It can be any time. Like when I was driving to work this morning.
It’s like the lack of sound. There isn’t any ‘click, click, click, click’ any more. The flat is more silent. His nails were long (they have been cut several times in the past) and so we culd even be woken up by the clickety click of him walking around.
F did a montage of pictures yesterday. And a short video I hadn’t seen. We had gone for a drink and taken Dino with us and, when we arrived home we viewed the pictures and the video. It made me cry. Great big tears. Which started F off too.
Everyone has been, of course, very kind.
F is going to do some sort of sign for the urn. Bless him.
For Christmas, F gave me a snow globe with pictures of the dogs inside. It was when they were playing out at the front of the flat we stayed in on holiday. Rufus enjoyed that holiday, for sure. And I am happy that he enjoyed that holiday. We all enjoyed that holiday.
But I think F has come round to the idea of a new puppy. “Can we get one that has the same colour eyes as Dino?”, he asked me. I explained it was unlikely since, for a grey Beardie, his eyes are a green/blue colour – most unusual. To be honest, I don’t think it would matter much.
He may have gone now but he remains with us.
I held him and stroked him even when he went to sleep.
Of course, the moment the decision was made, he seemed to be better. It almost made me change my mind. Almost. But I couldn’t bear the thought of him being at home, lying in his own shit, unable to move, in pain and upset.
He explained the procedure but I already knew. I took his collar off. What was the point of that? I stroked him as he went to sleep. I put my head near his and kissed him and told him that everything was OK even if it wasn’t. I stroked his body, not where it was just bone but where there was some sort of flesh, near his belly.
As he passed away, I thought ‘What if I should have kept him longer? Perhaps I should ask them to stop?’
But it was too late anyway. It was undoable.
I felt like the executioner even if it was right. Someone told us about a dog they had and they kept it in pampers for a while. I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t want that as a human but it just seems so wrong for a dog.
As we had walked to the place, I thought about how it was so much easier in the countryside, with a country vet. How much more aware they are of the life and death thing. The vets here, in the city, seem to pander to people who treat them as humans, with all the indignity it comes with.
He is free of pain now. The suffering continues only for those left behind. As always.
As I left I stroked his head, already cold now. I did it for me, I suppose, more than him. But I shall not forget him. V used to say that he was a gentleman. And he was right. I’m sorry that V didn’t see him before he went but, maybe, it’s better to remember him before he became just a skeleton, before he cried in the night through pain, before he would fall over just trying to do a pee.
And does Dino seem more quiet, almost sad? Or is that my humanising projection. I suspect it is. And, for his sake, I wouldn’t want him to be human.
Still, I miss the old gentleman dog all the same.
Everything’s kinda a bit fluid right now.
Having made the ‘decision’ and then being unsure, yesterday afternoon made the decision definite. In the end, I broached the subject with F. He asked what we would do with the body. I said I would leave it with the vet. He said no, we should have the ashes because Rufus needs a tome. Well, when he said it it sounded like tome but in fact he meant tomb, of course. Still, it made me smile – inwardly since smiling outwardly would have been very incorrect – and neither did I, on this occasion, correct his pronunciation.
But, in fact, he doesn’t mean tomb either. I’m pretty sure that what he wants is an urn with the ashes. It’s a concession I’m OK with.
He also told me that, when it comes time for Dino, I am not to tell him at all but just do it. Of course, Dino, he wants stuffed! Anyway, that’s 10 years away so who knows?
We are in Italy.
I woke up about 4 a.m. and couldn’t sleep. I got up and researched pet cremation in Italy. Surprisingly enough, it’s not that difficult. I found two places almost immediately. They collect, do their thing and return the ashes to you.
So, this morning, after I had taken them for a walk, I went to the vet. I had questions. Do they do a cremation and return ashes service? How much does it cost? If not or it’s too expensive, can they keep the animal while the other service comes to collect? How much does that cost?
Yes, they can do it but it’s very expensive – €400. No, they couldn’t keep it but they would give it back for me (to carry home – which is not ideal – dead animals always seem heavier, somehow). Just to do the putting down would cost €100.
I come back home and check out the services I had found last night. Yes, one of them costs €200 (plus €20 for delivery of the urn). They need 12 hours notice for collection.
So, the end result was €400 or €320 (with me carrying him home). I’m going with the first. F said he would pay but I won’t let him.
Oh, yes, and they can only do it on Monday. So, I will have to take a day off work. Ah well, it has to be.
I am so much more tolerant with Rufus now. He’s been getting treats. I let him off the lead in the dog areas and he’s allowed to eat kakka if he wants (it makes no difference now), we walk always at his pace (except when crossing roads if I can’t help it). He is getting lots of patting and stroking. He has been a wonderful dog. But he stays very close now. I think he has had enough, if you see what I mean.
But, is it wrong of me, I am looking forward to getting a new puppy sometime in the near future? I say it’s for Dino, of course. But, I think, secretly, it’s for me too. And, maybe, it’s also a way to look beyond Monday? Yes, I think it’s that.
The vet doesn’t think it’s a good idea to bring Dino too. However, I think I will. I want Dino to understand that Rufus is not coming home. Otherwise, he will always look for him. Like he looks for F.
I’ve emailed V and I’ll do it again. But I’m not expecting any response. It’s OK.
And we get to spend the weekend with Rufus.
In other news, yesterday, I finally got keys to F’s flat. This is a) just in case he loses or forgets his and b) in case he needs me to go there for something if he is away. And, I guess, because he loves me. From Monday, someone is coming to stay at his flat so he will be staying with me – for a month or so. In reality, of course, it makes no difference since he does, more or less, stay here all the time anyway. Still, it’s good that he is, although I’m possibly not as excited about those two things as I would have normally been but I think you can understand.
Of course, it’s all better today. In fact, it’s as if we have returned to several months ago.
And, this time it’s different. I have F to consider. And it’s his birthday today. So, not today then.
And I am tormented by the should I/shouldn’t I thing. As last time. But last time was different. I made the decision and wasn’t with F. It was more of a joint decision.
On the one hand, there is the fact that I am on holiday until the 9th. This means that I get several days with Dino before I have to leave him alone.
Also there is the fact that, should the same thing happen, for example, next week, it could be a whole day before I am able to clean up. And it would mean going to do it in the evening. Or taking time off work (which is not the problem – only that I would then have to go into work, leaving Dino alone) to go in the morning.
On the other hand – what if that were only a temporary thing? What if it doesn’t happen again for months? What if he keeps going until Easter? Until the weather gets warmer?
And now he seems more attached to F. And F doesn’t even want to think about it nor discuss it.
It makes my gut wrench.
It makes my heart bleed.
If only he hadn’t seemed much better this morning. No pees or poohs to clean up. Not even a pee until we got outside!
I have stopped giving him any medication and he seems even better.
Except, maybe, he isn’t eating. I’m not sure.
In fact, I’m not sure about anything.
Bugger!
Well, I suppose I’d better start by wishing my faithful readers a glorious and happy 2012. And to say sorry for not posting over the festive period.
Christmas was, as expected, wonderful, even if I did wake on Christmas morning with what seemed like ‘flu. I ignored it. I felt much better by Wednesday.
So the highlights were:
The best present I got from F was not the vaporetto (steam cleaner) that F was so delighted with giving me but the snow globe with the pictures of the dogs inside. Don’t get me wrong, the vaporetto is wonderful but I think that if I tell you that F’s excited question (as if a small boy with a new toy) later on Christmas Day of ‘Shall we use the vaporetto now?’ you will agree that nothing more needs to be said.
V’s Dad phoned me on Christmas Day. It was such a nice surprise and I was speechless. They never phone. They hardly ever phoned when V and I were together and so it was such a wonderful ‘present’. His Mum phoned on New Year’s Day to wish me Happy New Year. So nice of them.
On Christmas Day we cooked together most of the morning and ate together most of the afternoon. I couldn’t have wished for anything better (well, I suppose I could have wished for no ‘flu – but I’m not complaining). We opened presents, we had fun.
Of course, not everything was perfect over the period. I learnt that he really doesn’t have patience and also that he really doesn’t like the fact that I won’t argue with him – but really! A light in the bathroom, overcooked lentils, not being able to fit the roasting net over the cotechino, not being perfectly ready in time for our New Year’s Eve guests – none of these things are actually important things. Well, not to me, anyway. The light in the bathroom deserves it’s own post. Oh yes, and in addition to the lack of patience and me not arguing, one could add that he doesn’t listen to me – but then, that’s not really new 
I know that, for a lot of people, they are glad to see the back of 2011 but not me. It was a wonderful year and one of the happiest I’ve ever had. I hope that 2012 will be the same both for me and for all you out there.
“Shall I take the bambini out for a walk?”
Although it already about 9.30, I feel I could stay in bed (and asleep) for several hours yet. Dino, in particular, is ready to go out. Has been ready since about 6, to be honest. But he’s very good – except when we are stirring. He puts pressure on you to get up. And F is right, of course, we SHOULD get up.
I say “Yes”.
“But I wanted to clean”. There is real disappointment in his voice. Really, the first question was not ‘shall I’ but rather ‘will YOU’. I.e. I should get up and take them out whilst he starts the cleaning.
I almost laugh. Instead, I reply that I’ll take them out. This pleases him.
And so it was that he spent most of the morning cleaning the lounge ‘very well’, as he would say. Things were moved around and moved out of the lounge and, to be honest, it looks a lot better and there is much more room now.
The tree, he says, we should put up on Sunday. Leaving it outside for as long as possible. That way, it won’t leave so many needles. However, yesterday he bought more baubles and some tree lights. “Why?”, I asked. “I have some already”. Apparently he is going to decorate big time. I know he is happy.
And him being happy makes me very happy. I think it might be a great Christmas.