Sink or Swim

     I remember that my Dad taught my brother how to swim by throwing him into the ocean. We lived on Long Island, NY and would take our boat out to Fire Island every summer. That's when my brother was thrown overboard...I did fall off of the boat once, but my Dad was more merciful towards me and got me out of the water. A few years later I was given swimming lessons in the comfort of our in ground pool.

     On the Friday before Memorial Day, I felt the familiar panic of being four years old, unable to swim, and in a very vast ocean...I had lost my beloved dog, Dali.

     I wrote about Dali, our thirteen and a half year old Australian Cattle Dog/Border Collie mix in this blog before ("I Am The Bulldog" - March 7, 2012). She's been sick with liver tumors since she was almost twelve with the official diagnosis coming about eight months ago.  To say her passing has greatly effected my husband and myself is an understatement. Dali's behavioral issuers had to be closely monitored for her and our other dog's safety. One wrong move could mean a bite delivered to any of us or potentially anyone outside of the home. People are amazed when I talk about the level of management needed that frankly most people wouldn't deal with. I don't blame them. It's been a stressful thirteen and a half years. There were times I couldn't even walk freely in my home for fear of causing a fight if some kind.

     This also meant I couldn't use the computer as often as I would have liked to write or anything.  Our home office is a small space and highly conducive to setting off Dali's aggressions. Normal dogs typically have a critical distance of four feet. They don't like to be towered over or feel crowded.  Add that to a dog that is fearful and acts out on that, then there are issues.  I remember that if Eric was gone for the evening, before I got my iPad, it meant no work of any kind could be done. Managing Dali and keeping her happy and comfortable was top priority. Even after I got the iPad, I still couldn't get very engrossed in anything I was doing because in a split second Kobi, the other dog, could do something to incur her ire and a fight was on...

     ...and all of a sudden she was gone...

     Eric and I really don't know what to do with ourselves. Every routine was based on Dali. I'm not kidding. From the time we let her out of her crate in the morning to the time we put her back in at night, everything we did revolved around her. As unhealthy as that was, Eric and I no longer have a huge semblance of our life from the week before.   It's been weird, not to mention highly unsettling.  I mean after all, as humans, we all love our ruts and routines.  Mine just happened to be a life consuming one.

     My stepmother said she knew how much I loved her.  She also said that, "She helped you to become the wonderful person you are now and helped you find your place in this world. The ones that do that are always special as they show us a side of ourselves that we sometimes don't even know existed..."


     ...And in death Dali was still showing me a whole new side to myself...

I found this picture the other day...



     The funny thing about my life so far is I was quite a good "swimmer" when faced with troubles. I have quite the get up and go attitude. However, I would say I have also not faced anything as heartbreaking as Dali's passing was. I have been dumped by boyfriends, betrayed by close friends, and abused by my Mother, but, believe it or not, found nothing as profoundly life changing as Dali no longer being a part of my daily life. I just didn't feel the same anymore. It was like because that routine was gone, part of me died, too.  For the first time in my life, I guess I was really grieving.  This was something so foreign to my life previously.

     During this period, and while I was honestly barely maintaining my head above water neither sinking nor swimming, something strange started to happen. I found I was blessed with wonderful and numerous examples of "life" around me. I saw young dogs up for adoption at a local pet store. I saw a newly adopted dog at a friend's house. I saw my own dog start coming to life in ways he hadn't been able to before. So many new beginnings. So much new life all around...

....I began to wonder if now maybe I had a new life to get on with...a new "me" maybe...

     With Dali's passing , I got to experience a huge loss. I got to experience the entire grieving process.  The last step is called "recovery" where one shows a new interest in daily activities and begins to function normally on a day to day basis. The goal of recovery is to reorganize one’s life so that the loss is one important part of life rather than the center of one’s life.  Trust me, both my husband and I went through all the shock, denial, obsessive thoughts, anger, guilt sadness and anxiety before reaching this point.  In the end though, Dali enabled me to truly acknowledge how exciting life going forward can be and actually, really, must be. You always here the phrase "life goes on". I feel I understand it and am excited about. I want to be a part of that life. That life going on.  The feeling that I could go ahead and swim...

...I think I'll "doggie-paddle" out from shore now...



Happy Fishing!

--Red


                                         R.I.P Dali Cooper - January, 1999 to May 25, 2012

                               I miss you more than you know. Thank you for all you taught me.