Oyster

Like an oyster, I cover my wounds with nacre

Polishing, shining that which hurts me

Giving over to pain is not my wish,

I push aside the old pearl and create a new, smaller pearl

Hiding them deep within

Loss of a beloved companion

I don't know where to begin...Friday, March 6th started well. Barnabas and I got up, after sleeping in a little later than normal and began our day. Coffee for me, a quick trip out back for him and breakfast. We dithered around- I had to re-clean some spots on the carpet in the dining room...I had steam-cleaned the carpets after Jamie moved out, but still had some areas not to my liking. Checked my checking account and found out my income tax had come in- Wheee! So off we flew to pay the rent...my trusty little Scotty and I. There is a park near the property management office, so I decided we'd check it out. Met two new friends, checked all the available peepee spots and then made our way home. Shortly after getting home, Bobo ate his food, drank some water and wanted to be let out- so I did. Let him in shortly after- only to have him want out less than 10 minutes later. ?? I grumbled, what's your matter,little man? Watched him a minute- he seemed to have trouble getting down the slight step, both from inside the house and from the deck to the grass- then he wandered over and seemed to piddle. Then wandered to another spot and tried to piddle...he seemed a little wobbly, but I didn't think much of it. After what seemed like a long time, I checked on him. He looked again like he was trying to piddle, staring off into space. I called him to me, and ruffled his fur, noticing his tummy seemed awfully taut- so I picked him up and put him in his favorite spot on the couch. Some time later, after I had fixed my dinner, I noticed he wasn't on the couch, but had moved over next to the craft room on his pillow there. He had vomited up what looked to be everything in his tummy, and in general looked like a sad puppy. I checked him over and left him to lay there. When I checked about 45 minutes later, he had moved into the doorway of another room, so I picked him up and brought him to lay next to me. I was really worried by this time and called my Mom. She suggested I take his temperature- which I did- and which he didn't even flinch at my doing. It was under normal for his breed, so Mama said to keep an eye on him, and let her know. Well, his breath was kind labored, so I was keeping an ear out. Suddenly, I noticed it had slowed and I reached down for him, but he wasn't responsive. I dialed the nearest emergency vet, then Mama and flew out of there like my tail was on fire. I swear, I was taking corners like they weren't there and I was doing 70MPH on the Parkway! I apologize to those poor people I tailgated- but my boy was dying! Unfortunately, by the time I made it to the vet's he had succumbed.
I am numb, and unable to return to the house I once called home. Barnabas helped me get on with my life after Terry left me...kept me laughing when all was dire. I've been staying with my Mama and am able to be near Barnabas' mother, Mackenzie, who at 12 1/2YRS, is deaf as a post and nearly blind. But she snuffles and talks like he did and in some small measure is helping me deal with his loss. I buried him less than 100 yards from where he was born...and covered him with a rock cairn. I found the perfect 'tail stone'- it sticks up just like his tail when he was happy! After laying all the stone and sifting dirt down between the stones, I was cleaning up and realized that how I had laid them out looks like a dog laying with his head on his paws- tail in the air! _) :') Mama and I will be putting some forget-me-nots around his grave and some sweet allisium...I'm thinking lots of purple and white flowers...

My mother was mentioning Barnabas' death to Mackenzie's vet tech and she said it sounded to her like something called stomach torsion. While it is rare in Scottish terriers, it can happen, and makes sense, given his symptoms. Typically, an animal's stomach will bloat, then somehow get twisted...they are unable to burp or pass gas, so they try to throw up to expel the gas. If nothing is done quickly then the stomach tissue begins to die, and surrounding organs are affected as well. They begin to stumble, and become disoriented. If taken to a vet, they can sometimes 'draw off' the gas from the stomach, then do surgery to correct the twisted stomach. Unfortunately, many dogs will die on the table- and many more will die within the following 2-3 days. So, while I am somewhat relieved to have an explanation, it still does not temper my grief.
Deschutes Beggar Boy- known to many as BARNABAS and others as Barney- I will miss you the rest of my days.