I've always loved the combination of blue and white. And lately I've discovered that I like editing photos. You may have notice that in the last post or two. I'm sure I'll get tired of trying out the different effects with photos, but I'll never get tired of blue and white.
I really, really like blue and white. A lot.
Blue paint on white paper.
Blue and white vases.
Blue and white dishes.
Blue and white flowers.
And because of the unusually dry, windy and warm weather we've been having, the sky has been a darker, clearer blue than usual.
In fact, clouds are very scarce around here lately. It's very pretty, but it's been a very odd year.
What's not blue and white, or even black and white, is how you decide when to let a pet go. Last Sunday Beau had such a bad day that we had all decided I'd have to call the vet on Monday morning. But by Monday morning he had perked up again, and we decided to wait.
We're doing everything the vet suggested, keeping Beau comfortable with his pain pills and other meds, making sure he drinks water and eats something, checking his gums to make sure he's not bleeding internally. But most days now he only eats about half of what he used to, and he's getting very thin. His legs and paws and hips are getting weaker every day from the arthritis, but he can still chase the cat sometimes. His run has turned into a hop, as he keeps his hind legs together for strength.
He still has happy times when his eyes twinkle and his stump of a tail wiggles a little bit, when he comes up to one of us and nudges us to pet him. When he presses his head against one of our legs and looks up at us with what I can only describe as love in those beautiful big brown eyes. But other times you can tell he doesn't wish to be touched, he growls a bit or barks when someone touches him. He can't really clean himself well anymore, and he doesn't like me to brush him. He used to love to be brushed, because that meant it was treat time. Those days are behind us.
Our vet said we'd know when it was time, because his bad days would outnumber his good days. We're at about 50/50 now, I think. The hard thing now is for the four of us, me, Mr. C, the Linguist and the Philosopher, to come to terms with the inevitable. We need to find the inner strength to do what is right for Beau. I'm just hoping we have the wisdom to know when that time has come, because we will have to decide when to have him put to sleep. His heart and lungs are still so strong, they seem like they could go on for years yet. It's his legs and spleen and bladder, and who know what else, that are failing.
This is so much harder than I ever thought it would be.
"One reason a dog can be such a comfort
when you're feeling blue
when you're feeling blue
is that he doesn't try to find out why.”