Eat Whoopi Love

Our dog Whoopi is dying.

At 14, the diagnosis of Lymphoma is pretty tough to take, but not completely surprising. She's rated at 14 years (dog size, breed, etc.) and she celebrates her 14th birthday today. She was born about 5 weeks before the day after Thanksgiving, 1996. She came home today, 1996, a tiny puppy that would lay on Rob's chest, shivering and licking his face and crying if he made a movement like he was getting up.

She's been everything a great dog can be- loyal, loving, cuddly, alert, happy, and all the rest. No way, here, to memorialize how great she has been. Rest assured, though she's the whole package.

But she's not dying right.

Luckily, these days, she's in good spirits. The cancer makes her a little weak, a little more likely to lay in the sun and snooze and a little slower to react to the world around her. It's heartbreaking, but we understand the process, and try to not break into tears each day.

What gets me, though, is her focus on the every day. She's hungry.

The vet put her on Prednisone, which increases her appetite and makes the symptoms manageable. It's working well.

What I'd like to see, though, is a dog as wise as she is (and she is wise- no question) start to concentrate on the eternal and unzip from the earthly. I'd like to see the faraway look in her eyes and know she is putting her life in order, making sense of the events that make up her life and her experience, and preparing herself for the great what's next.

Instead, she cries for more food. It's unsettling.

We feed her, of course, and feed her a little more because of the meds. We're very careful with the dogs- dog food only, no people food because it's unhealthy, etc. But we have relaxed the rules a bit with Whoopi- at this point the cheese won't do more harm than the Lymphoma.

But the crying is tearing my heart. Where's the guru-buddha-belly dog that I rely on? Is food really the final important thing?

And maybe she'll finish out her own way. Maybe at this point, the important thing is for her needs to be met, and not my existential angst. My questions might take a back seat to her need for treats.

She's earned that.