Family matters...

My neighbor, local artist Allison Reed, recently painted this wonderful portrait of Bucky for me.



click image to enlarge

Isn't it amazing? I just burst into happy sobbing when I first saw it. I found the halo effect to be especially poignant. Bucky truly was my angel, both in life, and now beyond. This painting means so much to me! Until now, I had not one single physical image of Bucky that I could look at – only digital ones – so being able to see this portrait on my living room wall is tremendously comforting. Once again, I feel Bucky's presence here in a really tangible way, and for that, I am genuinely grateful. Thank you, Allison!

 

It's a bit too breezy today to fly my century-old, 45-star flag for Independence Day this year, so instead I have my 15-star/15-stripe "Star-Spangled Banner" replica on display.





Technically, I'm displaying it incorrectly, as when the Flag is hung out-of-doors and is visible from either side, the union (the part with the stars) should be pointed either in the direction of the rising sun, or towards the north, and the union is oriented southward here. Since most people seem to get irked seeing the Flag with the union positioned at right, though, I'm hoping to avoid some unwarranted flak this year. ;)



Also, here is a picture of the cat that adopted me within 48 hours of Bucky's death.





She used to visit with him and me when we'd go on walks by her house. Bucky was always glad to meet his only feline friend, and the white cat was very tolerant of his rather rude canine social greeting ritual. ;) And during the last two nights of Bucky's life, when he was visibly crippled, the cat displayed genuine concern, walking alongside Bucky halfway around the block from her home. It was almost as if she were asking him like, "What's wrong?" Anyway, after Bucky died, she started spending all of her time here, so I've been feeding her. Her real owners don't seem to mind, as they have a ton of other cats. Maybe they don't even know or care that she's not around much anymore. Whatever, I'm glad for the occasional company...

 

It's not only Fathers Day, this is also the 121st anniversary of my maternal grandmother's birth.

Some photographic remembrances...

Lily and Lillian O'Malley, Bingham, Utah, October 1917. (My mother is 7 weeks old here.)




Nana at home with "Pepi," at Heaston Heights, Bingham, Utah.




Mother, her mother, and Mother's younger sister, Lorraine, at Nana's home at 1434 Bond Street, Los Angeles.

 

I'm dog-sitting for a friend of a friend for a few days. I was surprised and honored to be asked, and without hesitation, I accepted. I've really missed having a dog around the house, and I thought this would be just the ticket to lift my spirits.

Unexpectedly, though, I'm finding that having these dogs here has made me miss Bucky more than ever, so it's not the healing experience I'd hoped it would be. That's discouraging. Clearly, it's not canine companionship per se that I'm missing, but the companionship of one dog in particular, and unfortunately, he's not ever coming back...

 

Received two sympathy cards yesterday re: my beloved Bucky...

This one was from my old college friend, Paul:




And this one was from the vet who put Bucky to sleep:




Both made me cry my eyes out, as you might guess. (In a good way, though.)

 

I miss my dog terribly. It's now been two weeks since Bucky was put to sleep, and not a day's gone by that I haven't cried my eyes out over losing him. He was the best dog in the whole wide world, and my world is a whole lot less worth living in now that he's not in it.

I'm still racked by guilt that I may have had Bucky put down too soon, though. In terms of his ability to walk, it absolutely was the right time – I have zero doubt about that. Considering the rate of his physical decline, in another day or two I'm certain he wouldn't have been able to walk at all anymore. (He couldn't even stand up to greet the vet when she arrived.)

On the other hand, I had told myself originally that I wasn't going to have Bucky put to sleep until it was clear to me that he wasn't enjoying life anymore. This is where my trouble lies, because I know that, even though he was very weak and getting weaker every day, Bucky still loved his little world and he did not want to leave it yet – or leave me.

The vet has since told me, though, that dogs in the last stage of kidney failure have at most one week left to live, and that, at the end, they are in a great deal of pain. And Bucky's last blood test at the clinic the Friday before confirmed that his kidneys had "given up," to use that vet's exact words.

So even though I know Bucky was still experiencing a degree of enjoyment in life, I have to accept the fact that he did have a terminal illness and was certain to die within a few days, anyway, and in retrospect, I really did not want him to have to endure any suffering. The decision to put him to sleep still rips me up inside, though. I know from how Bucky behaved during his last days that he did truly want me to help him, but the only way I could help him was to end his life in as peaceful and painless a manner as possible.

I'll tell you something, though. I'd much prefer it had been me that died rather than Bucky. In many ways, I feel like I've already lived too long. I've outlived almost everyone I've ever loved, and there's no one here with me at all anymore. To live and die alone seems now to be my destined fate.



Anyway, I thought I'd share some video clips of Bucky. I wish now that I'd taken many more movies of him. One of dozens of regrets I have now, looking back on our all-too-brief time together.

( 4 YouTube clips here. )

I miss you so much, Bucky! I just don't know what I'm going to do without you...

 

My beautiful boy is at rest.

I had a vet unknown to Bucky come to the house today so that he could lie down and sleep his last sleep on the cool grass of his own back yard.

At the moment of his passing, a sudden breeze blew a shower of flower petals down upon him.

I buried Bucky just outside my bedroom window, so he could lie close by my side always.

I don't believe in an afterlife, but I do believe that, in our last moments, our departed loved ones do appear to us in a vision of perfect peace, and I have no doubt that I will be able to see Bucky's sweet face and pet his soft fur again before we journey together into the light.

Farewell, faithful companion. I will love you forever, my angel...

 

Just returned from Bucky's nightly walk. He is now in a truly pitiable state. Down by the pond, Bucky's hind legs collapsed on him at least a dozen times, and each time, he was unable to stand up again on his own.

Considering the rate of his decline over the last two weeks, I think after another day or two, he will no longer be able to stand or walk at all. As much as it breaks my heart, I believe I now have to accept the inevitable.

 

I don't know how I'm going to live without Bucky. He's my only real companion in the whole world...

This past week, I've been taking him to all of our favorite places. I hate to say the words "for the last time," but realistically, I'm certain it is in each case. I took Bucky to Trinidad on Wednesday. Here's a nice picture of him on the beach there.



He looks alright, doesn't he? In actuality, though, he is very weak, and getting weaker by the day. I took him to the vet's yesterday, and he had a very rough time of it just riding in the back seat. Seeing how he suffered, I doubt I'll be taking him anywhere "for fun" anymore.

When the inevitable comes, part of me is going to die with him, I know. Just how much of me that will be, I can't say. Life's going to be a lot less worth living after he's gone, though; of that much I'm certain...