January 2018 – dogblog

The last ever picture we took, half an hour before he left us forever, 6 weeks ago.

This last Sunday would have been Manni’s eleventh (guesstimate) birthday. When we got the devastating diagnosis of yet another osteosarcoma in the summer I knew then that he wouldn’t live to see this day.

But then he hung around longer than anyone ever expected and a sliver of hope crept into my stupid head, as hope tends to do. Hope is not my friend. I’d rather be positively surprised after the fact than devastated because I had hope. Not that this birthday really meant anything, least of all to Manni.

I promised then that I would invite (and pay for plane tickets) every Tripawds member that wanted to make the long trip over here to have the biggest -and most unlikely- birthday bash ever. Obviously, that didn’t happen. Sorry folks. Instead I spent last Sunday volunteering at our local shelter. It wasn’t fun, it wasn’t pleasant work. It was lots of physical labor like cleaning kennels, but I was busy. I was also not tempted to take one of the dogs home with me. I guess I kept comparing and, sorry to say, nothing compares to Manni. Not for me, anyway. I went back to the shelter today and will continue doing so but at least I found that I don’t feel the need to rescue every poor soul out there. -That is a good thing, in my book.

On that Sunday I went from the shelter to my yoga class and didn’t get home until later that evening, completely beat. For once, sleep came easy and the Sunday was over fast. Thank Goodness.

I miss him so much. Every minute of every day. My life is so different now and it’s not better. Even I myself was better with him. I miss the little bump on his nose, his freckles. I miss burying my nose in his oh so soft fur right behind his ears, I miss his scent, so much. I miss his unbelievably reckless, independent spirit, his wise eyes, his exasperation with me. I miss my purpose,

I miss Manni.

These below are videos of better times. They make me cry but they also make me happy for a few seconds. Enjoy and please remember him for a little while. Thank you.

Thank you everybody for the numerous comments, condolences and your kindness. I can’t even begin to express how much it means.

A new year has begun and right now I don’t even care what it brings.

Manni made it to exactly two years after his amputation. Maybe one day I will be able to celebrate this huge achievement of having shown both cancer and statistics my middle fingers but right now I just can’t.

Manni was my constant companion. And I mean that very literally. If at all possible I took him along. During his life he was in different countries (he had his own pet passport), used all methods of transportation you can imagine (boats, public transport, cars, trains, RVs, elevators, ferries…), he was an office dog, he went to all restaurants with me, he was at Christmas markets, in hotels, in vacation rentals, at all my friends’ houses, in barns, on horse pastures, he played with goats and cats, he went to nose-work classes (lost people searches) and excelled in them and he even participated whole-heartedly in the dog-Paralympixx. You name it, he was there.

In short: wherever I went, he did. He was never afraid of anything, he took everything in stride even though some of the things I made him do must have been a challenge.

The problem with having your dog with you everywhere is that once your dog is gone there is not a single place you can go where you don’t miss your dog. That’s where I’m at now. I feel like I am the one missing a limb now. All my friends would always say that Manni and I were so symbiotic it was unreal. Now, this is exactly what’s come back to haunt me. Now, I am alone at last, as I expected to be for exactly the last two years.

Manni was not a perfect dog, in fact he was very far from being a perfect dog. He chased after every moving object if you weren’t careful, he didn’t like strangers, he didn’t like cuddles, he counter-surfed no matter where we were, he stole food off colleagues’ desks, he got stuck in a waste basket once trying to reach food, and he was the most strong-willed creature you could find. I can’t even count the number of times he left me absolutely exasperated and at my wit’s end. My mother would always say: well, you get what you deserve…

However, let me show you what it meant to me to have him around. Look at my face. Can you see the absolute bliss?

Time is my friend, they tell me. I’m sure they’re right. We’ll see.

Month: January 2018

Almost an 11th birthday. Almost.

Alone at last.

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