The time had come.  Cancer had ridden his body.  He had lost a bunch of weight.  He had had to have a toe amputated which was cancerous.  But here he was,  Rufus Palmer, my golden retriever and most definitely the best friend I’ve ever had, the one who saved me from myself, the one who taught me what love really is, he was the one who was going through all of this suffering.  We lived in a farmhouse in Vermont for many years, just the two of us.  Every person who met him immediately fell in love with him, including my mother, who did not like animals at all; she ended up loving him almost as much as I had. 

 Being my dog, I was given two decisions.  Do I opt to have him remain here for my own selfish reasons, having him here at a fraction of who he was for a couple more months (which the vet said would be his maximum life expectancy) because I wanted him here at any cost? Or do I somehow find the strength to love him enough to be able to say goodbye forever, at least in this life? 

All of this happened in the span of one month.  In a way, I’m glad, because he didn’t have to endure eons of suffering, but it’s been really difficult to not place some of the blame on this rock of an island.  Before we moved here, in Idaho, he was fine and in perfect health.  We move here on May 8th, and he’s in this state by September 11th? 

Dogs are lucky.  If you love them enough and you can get your ego and what it wants to shut up for just a second, you can end their suffering, say goodbye, and let them go with dignity.  Humans aren’t so lucky, being forced to maintain what most cannot barely consider ‘living’ at any cost.

It all came down to me.  My spiritual beliefs are a hodgepodge of different traditions, but I firmly believe that the spirit is eternal and is with us always.  If I believed this, really believed this, how in the world could I force the one who loved me so to remain just to allay my own fears?  I could not possibly allow another being to suffer so when I knew he would be happy and peaceful in the spirit realm.  So it was my decision to say goodbye to him.

  We (my mom, who had grown to love him as much as me, my dad, and my boyfriend) went to the vet.  Rufus knew what was up and had grown to hate that place.  They put him on a table.  They gave him a shot.  I sang him a song I’d been singing to him since he was 7 weeks old.  And then he was gone.

Then came the hard part.  I have never had to experience the death of anyone really close to me, let alone one of the most important people in my world.  I bit my lip to keep from crying as I continued going to interviews.  Tears came every time a thought of him came up.  My boyfriend’s one primary dislike is crying, so this really sucked for him too.

Today marks a year since that all happened.  I’ve managed to completely soak a handkerchief while writing this.  The notion they tell you that it takes a year to get over someone you’ve lost is just bullshit to this sentimental Cancerian.  The pain and the tears may not come as often as this time last year, but they’re still there. They always will be.  And today it hurts as much as if this all happened yesterday instead of a year ago.

I always liked the way the Pet Psychic on Animal Planet would put it when talking about losing our fur covered friends.  She said “We never ‘get over’ them.  We just get used to living without them.”  I couldn’t agree more. 

So as I try to go on with my normal life today, try to keep my mascara from running, my mind lingers on one thing and one thing only:  how lucky I was to have been given seven years to be with the most loving, kind, happy furry spirit that was Rufus Palmer.  I was very privileged to have been his companion.  He showed me a lot about the world.  He gave me a reason to live when I couldn’t find one.  And he taught me that unconditional love DOES exist, and receiving that gift is one of the most precious things I’ve ever experienced in my life.

And in a way, that’s what’s kept me away from here, coupled with the fact that my normal life has suddenly gotten a lot busier.  Work I feel I’ve written enough about, so today we’re veering from that topic into the rest of my life, ie the part of my life that actually matters.Â

May has been a month of a lot of changes. In these last two weeks:
1. I have moved.
2. Dale has joined me and we’re seeing what it’s like to live together. Sadly it’s not to be a permanent situation, but we’ll take what we can get, even if it is for only a couple months.
3. WE GOT A KITTEN!!!

On a lunch hour trek to the Humane Society (which here in Oahu is AWESOME), we raced each other (I was in the car, he on his Yamaha R6) through traffic and got there. I’d been online, so I knew of a few of the felines there, but when we got there, there was this lone little kitten, a calico with white legs, small meow, and rumbling purr. We knew in seconds that she was ours. We raced to the adoption sign up sheet to put our names down to make sure no one could keep her from us. We spent some more time with our soon to be daughter as well as visited the other temporary inhabitants. We talked to either a staff member or a volunteer, and it was heartwarming to hear that most cats don’t spend a lot of time there, that all of them generally get adopted at some point (kittens obviously go faster than older cats). What was best to hear was that unless the cat was in the grip of a life-taking illness, they don’t euthanize. I was psyched to hear that. We chatted a bit, said goodbye to our new one whom we were going to pick up after work.

And then we went to see the dogs.

I haven’t written about it, though I’ve meant to, on the subject of Rufus Palmer. Rufus Palmer was my golden retriever who I had since he was 7 weeks old until he left at 7 1/2. We lived in Vermont from 1999-2005. I broke up with my boyfriend I was living with in 2000, so Rufus and I spent 5 years and 5 long harsh winters together, just the two of us. He’s the longest boyfriend I ever had, and he literally saved my life by giving me a reason to live when I thought none existed. When everything crashed and my family rescued me, they knew he came as part of the package, and my parents weren’t exactly animal people, let alone a 100lb one. But in no time, they took to him as much as I did, and within just a year my mother, who has always disliked animals, was just about as close to her ‘grand-dog’ as I was. We all went through a lot of stress over bringing him here and jumping through the Dept. of Agriculture quarantine hoops and the fear of him travelling on a plane, but we made it. We walked on the beach all the time. He didn’t really like the waves. We were here less than 3 months before he began developing tumors which turned out to be cancerous. He had to have a toe amputated. Within a month, we had to say goodbye to him. It was the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to go through, and even now, over 8 months later, I’m a wreck writing this. I’m crying and my heart is breaking all over again-again, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get over him.  Because it all happened so fast right after moving here, I do carry resentment at this place, this island, for he was fine before we moved and had never had any problems.  He was such a light in my life, and he was the glue that brought our family together. He was just so beautiful and amazing and I feel very privileged that from 7 weeks until 7 1/2 years, I got to spent almost 24 hours a day, 7 days a week with him (except for 2005).

The dogs were in really nice kennels, which made me happy. So many different breeds, big and small, loud and quiet. Being around dogs has not been easy for me since losing Rufus Palmer, but it was great to just give them some attention and love that I’m sure they were very happy to receive.

We went back to our jobs, and in the remaining afternoon hours, we went about the arduous task of deciding on a name for our little daughter-to-be. IMming back and forth, we threw out suggestions, and decided on Daisy, but am really big on midle names, so for some reason I suggested Peanut. I have absolutely no reason WHY, I just liked it, and so did Dale. The name turned out to suit her perfectly.

So this month, it’s been a lot less posting because we’ve become parents! Daisy Peanut is a little fireball of energy (especially around 3:30 am) who has become a hilarious addition to our world. Having an animal in ones life is so important, not just for the unconditional love and such, but to have someone outside of yourself to take care of. Having that can save a life. I can say this with authority because having Rufus Palmer saved mine. Even though it still is extremely difficult to let Rufus go, having Daisy actually has helped me a lot with healing that sadness.

And without further delay, may we present the fair Miss Daisy Peanut!

                                                                 Â

Anyways, in 2005 I worked first at an animal center, working with the boarding animals. It was a good physical job, and I figured if I had so many problems dealing with people, perhaps it would be for the best to begin working with dogs first. Plus, I got free doggy daycare for my dog, so we were around each other all day, so it was a good arrangement. Not a well paying one, but a good start. The only problem with these incredibly repetitive kinds of jobs is that you get sick of them, especially if you aren’t particularly enamored with your boss (who you went to school with and was two years younger than you). Fortunately, I was only working 30 hours and they wanted someone for 40, so it was the perfect reason to leave.

From there I moved to the world of folding towels, handing out locker room keys, and coming up with membership campaigns as I began my next job at an athletic club. It was a good job, nice hours, still awful pay. I got reprimanded for not being perky enough (ironically, this has become a running theme in my work life), but I got a good title (“Director of Marketing”) out of it, I and started acclimating to working with people.

This time last year, it was these two jobs and their W-2s I had to deal with when filing taxes. I got pretty much everything back, and then I got this thing called and Earned Income Credit? That was like Christmas! Sweet! I continued working at the Athletic Club until some developer bought it to level it and put in a bunch of condominiums. It didn’t really matter though, because I was moving to Hawaii. My parents were planning on moving there before I came into the picture, so it’s a kind of ‘where they go, I go to’ deal.

So I’m off to Hawaii. In Idaho, my folks had their whole bedroom/bathroom suite upstairs; here I’m 4 feet away from them. It’s been a rough transition for sure, but that’s not the topic. My first job here was through a temp agency which involved the opening and revival of a new restaurant in a mall. This job required a cheerleader person, and I’m not quite that bubbly. After two months, it was again an amicable separation.

The next month was among the worst of my life, when out of nowhere, my dog suddenly has cancer and dies in less than 2 months. I was with him when he left, and I sang him to sleep, but it still was the worst thing I’ve had to deal with in my life. And believe me; the tears are flowing as I write this.

4 days after that happened, I was offered this job. Between this and leaving my temp job, I had been unemployed for about a month. In a way, it helped a lot to have something else to focus on. Sometimes it was a feat to keep myself together, but I did. The days went by, the phones got answered, the year ended, and I kept putting one foot in front of another in my quest to join the rest of the world and be a ‘normal’ person.

I did my taxes this week. The 1040EZ is nothing. It’s the filling out two part time resident ones that suck. Fortunately, I’m pretty good at reading instructions, so though I’d rather be napping, they got done. And what do you know? There’s a fair chunk of change coming back to me! Just like last year! Just like Christmas!

I guess the moral of this story is that a slacker CAN do taxes. And I did them, on my own, no help. When you know you’ve been using the government as a sort of piggy bank by overpaying (yes, I know this is not the smartest thing to do, and that money could be doing a lot of other things, but I’m not at that point yet), breaking it open and getting that cash back is enough to get almost anyone off the couch.