Red is still sick this morning, he still has a fever, he is still nauseous, still eating very little. We are going to the vet in a few minutes to see what an ultrasound can tell us about why he is so sick, why his fever remains so high, why he is struggling to eat. It is almost certainly something serious but how serious, we just don’t know.
The leading candidates are tick-borne diseases like Lyme, an organ or liver or kidney issue, or even a tumor. Cancer. We know it is not something minor, we do not know how serious it is. I hope we will find out this morning. My instincts suggest the first, a tick-borne infection of some kind. They can make dogs very sick.
Normally, when a dog is sick, I pull into myself and say as little as possible until the issues are resolved. I grew up with drama, I don’t want it in my life.
I am, I think, protecting myself, my own inadequate way of dealing with what it to come – the advice, sorrow, sad stories and mass diagnoses. That doesn’t work any longer for me.
Red is a public dog and I live a public and open life. It is not longer just about me or what I feel and think. He is a shared dog, he is owned by many people.
Yesterday, the staff at the vet’s office was startled by the e-mails they were receiving from people sharing holistic and other experiences with their animals. That had never happened before. The messages contained detailed lists of treatments and medications that had been given to people’s dogs and cats.
They were shocked, I was somewhat speechless. People sometimes can love too much, I tried to explain.
I have changed over time. I have accepted responsibility for having a dog that is loved and shared with many others. When Rose got sick, I said she was sick, and then I said she was gone. I couldn’t handle the shared experienced, I wouldn’t offer updates or running accounts. Having a dog is, in some ways, a private thing, but for dogs like Red, it is just not, and I have made it that way and I take responsibility for it.
The people out there, my readers and friends, are my community now, and they have the right to know as much about Red and his illness as I do or Maria does. It does not bother me that they care, it is, I know, a compliment to him, me, my writing and photos. Through them, people get to know this wonderful creature and see for themselves the good that he does.
And my writing tells me how much Red means to me, how emotional a connection we have. It would be a lie to hide that or pretend otherwise.
In a time when truth itself is struggling to survive, this is important. It took me awhile to get there, and I readily admit to being buoyed by the good wishes, offers of support and comfort and love, for him, and some for me too. This is a lonely place to be, wondering day after day how I can stop the suffering of a living thing I love, and whether he will be all right. And I am not blessed with patience.
I got a phone call from a resident at the Mansion yesterday, someone had read the blog and they were worried about Red and wondering what they could do. Could they come to see him? Nothing to do now, I said, except care and think of him. I believe he will be back soon.
I am the one who introduced people to Red, I write about him all the time. I bring him everywhere, including to assisted care facilities, hospice wards and dementia units.
How could I expect the people who have come to love him – and there are too many to count – to not care about him and want to help? That is selfish.
For years, I protected myself from all of this emotion and this advice and from the horror stories people love to share, and the amateur diagnosticians, and the bizarre and sometimes effective medical experimentation that goes on with dogs and cats in America.
There are some curious people out there, and a good number of them seem to think it is comforting to see photos of their dead dogs and cats. It is not really. We don’t need to get ahead of themselves, and I will not be sending out any photographs of dead dogs.
I am conservative when it comes to medical treatment for Red, I want the advice to come from trained people I know and trust. I just don’t follow advice from strangers on the Internet.
The love and support I am receiving is much appreciated. I have opened up to it, always working to break down the barriers that have kept me away from other people, and so alone with myself.
It’s odd to say this, but Red has taught in some ways what it means to be loved deeply, and to be open to it.
I dare not go to the dentist without bringing Red, they will send me home to get him. He has transformed the lives of so many people – those in the Mansion, the bookstore, the Round House Cafe, my writing classes, our Open Houses, he goes everywhere I go, and is loved everywhere we go.
I have written lately about the power of doing good, but it took a momentous political upheaval for me to quite grasp that, Red has been doing it his whole life.
i joke that perhaps one day people will greet me with the joy and enthusiasm with which they greet Red. People love animals more easily and openly than they love people, and I am not as open to love and emotion as he is, or Maria is, or almost all the living things around me are. Red is a generous spirit, he gives as good as he gets.
That inspires me keep on trying to open up I share my life openly, as I promised, but the odd thing is I am an intensely private person, and my instincts all go the other way. I am never easy with people telling me what to write, how to think, what to do. I want to make my own mistakes and learn my own lessons. I am not used to having masses of people too close.
The blog has been good for me in that way, and so has Red. I take what I need and leave the rest behind. I don’t need to fuss about it.
Writers who seek to be authentic need to show their vulnerability. They must not write to protect themselves or others. They must not tell lies about themselves, and they must face the reality and truth of who they are and what they are. In living with Red, I have learned a lot about myself, dogs and other animals can do that for us if we let them.
In one sense, Red is a reflection of who I am but more, who I wish to be. He is forever loyal, tolerant, accepting and loving. If a border collie can do it, can people do it? Can I do it? Perhaps not ever fully and completely, but it is a good direction to walk in.
So today, I walk in solidarity with all of you good people, thousands of whom have expressed love and concern for Red. You will be in there with us this morning when we hopefully get to the bottom of this. In the scheme of things, the life of a single dog is not all that important, nor is my life.
Human beings suffer, and need attention. The Mansion residents need a visit, the refugee children need supplies, tuition, and birthday parties
Many people struggle and bleed in our world, and I never want to forget them or push them out of my consciousness. I took Red for a short walk in the service of a multi-day search for a stool sample (success!) and leaned over to him and said, “hey, pal, let’s get better, okay? We have work to do.”
He looked closely into my eyes, and wagged his tail a bit. I’ll be there, is what I heard him say.