Recently in Personal Category

None other than my hero and personal savior, Heather B. Armstrong of Dooce.com fame. Until this point the only thing Heather and I have ever disagreed about was bacon, and so for the next 21 days, I guess I can safely say she rocks times about 20. 20 million. 

For those of you who don't know, Heather is one of the country's most well known bloggers. I think she actually got rated in the top 10 most powerful blogs this year, right behind the Huffington Post. She's a kick-ass amazing woman, and I've been addicted to her blog for the past two years. I actually got to 'meet' her about two weeks ago at a book signing and I'm still completely twitter-pated, and now this? My week just got awesome. 

Since she's obviously not just doing this for health reasons (if you read her post, linked above, you'll see where she notes she's thinking of being a veggie permanently) it'd be great if everyone could go and leave her comments for support - there are a couple people who have left quasi-moron comments about how asparagus feels pain and how small-time cattlemen are actually really nice to the animals whose lives they remove. Think of how nice it'd be to see hundreds of vegans supporting her and providing accurate information. 

The bothering is stressing me out a little, but nothing compared to my mother. I love my mother very much, but her attitude towards me/veganism/animals is confusing at times and downright anxiety-attack producing at others. I'm completely unable to talk to her because she merely shuts down and tells me to be quiet, because it makes her sad. There are times when I'm not even on the subject and she gets upset at me and accuses me of trying to "force my views on others." She's willing to buy me vegan food, and even try some, but she simply shuts down whenever I mention anything that has to do with animals. She's an intelligent, caring, loving woman who just doesn't, for some reason, make the connection between the love for animals I know she feels, and what she's putting in her mouth and on her body. 

It's the hardest thing I've had to deal with in a long time, and I'm struggling not to come to the conclusion that my mom just doesn't care. I love her so much and I always thought she was a truly good person. In all my years as a vegetarian I never brought up the subject to her, but now that I have, I feel a little lost.  I wish I could explain to her just how much this means, but I feel completely incapable. It's not that I want to force my views on anyone, it's that I genuinely believe that if people understood the how and the why, they'd readily accept. Especially my mom. But I can't explain if they just shut down. It's been bringing me down to the point where I feel absolutely useless, hence the lack of writing.  

 

Any advice? 

His illness was sudden, severe, and devastating.  I came home to a shadow of my once healthy, lovely, energetic companion. The dog who once wagged his tail so hard his whole back half shook could barely manage to raise his head and wag five times when I came home. 

But he did. 

I spent the night next to him on the floor, talking and petting and thinking. Around five, Sirius, one of the other dogs, crawled over to lay down next to Magic on his bed, and Magic in turn raised his head to lay it on Sirius' back. After dawn he whined to us to signal he'd like to go outside, where he was always happiest during the early summer. He could no longer walk on his own, so we carried him out and used a blanket sling to support his rear legs while he guided us. He didn't go far, just far enough to lay down in the grass. Occasionally, he'd raise his head to sniff the wind. At 7:50 my mom, my brother and I loaded him and some comfort items into the car and drove to our vet's. Magic always liked Katie, his vet, and her staff, and after being carried in and arranged on the floor he managed to lift his head one last time to say a polite hello to her. 

Then he dropped his head into my hands and let it rest, for the first and last time in his whole life. He went peacefully, more peacefully than I have ever seen a euthanasia go. 

I have often thought about how incredibly devastated I will be when Rivet dies, but never did I come to consider how I would feel when Magic died, because I really never thought about the fact that he would indeed die someday. That day always seemed far away and incoherent. I had planned for us a summer of hiking and swimming and reading in the yard together, possibly of visits to the barn to see Riv. I had planned to take pictures and make memories and take comfort in his presence when I missed Alex. Saturday night when I rounded up the other dogs to go to bed, an impatient "Mag, c'mon" escaped my lips, a reminder of how empty our house feels and will always feel. 

Magic was a truly great individual. From a human standpoint, he was kind and sweet and patient and great fun. There was no creature that wasn't safe with him, from small children to Teddy, my cockatiel. Our dwarf rabbit, Danzig, would snuggle confidently between his paws, and Magic wouldn't even bat an eye. He was patient and gentle with every animal he was ever introduced to, and he simply took everything in stride. He sat patiently and calmly while I cried on his shoulder when no one else would listen. He kept me company at night when Alex left for the semester. He jumped in pools to rescue Gus, his 'slow' sibling, from drowning. He let babies pet him and pull at his ears, let our cats rub their faces on his nose and sleep between his legs. He played Sandy in my high school production of "Annie".

From a doggy point of view, he was an amazing hiker, wrestler and swimmer and a phenomenal garbage dog. Over the years he got into every item that could possible be found and eaten, including an entire bag of Halloween candy, a bag of flour, a loaf of unrisen bread, a half pound of M&Ms, a 5lb sack of sugar which he promptly spilled his water dish over, not to mention countless loaves of bread and any other food left out in the open. He figured out how to open every cabinet and drawer in the kitchen, and was only prevented from opening the fridge and oven by their weight. I swear one time he unlatched a baby-latch to get into the garbage can - no mean feat when you lack opposable thumbs. He taught other dogs how to jump up on counters to get food. He loved to sleep on the lounge chair in our living room, even though he knew it was off limits. He never ever played fetch, despite being a Labrador Retriever. The only food he wouldn't touch was popcorn, and even then he'd lick the butter-flavor off the raw kernels if given the chance. He marked his territory regularly and with authority. He was social and loved to play chase. He never once showed true aggression, but expressed a distinct dislike of Siberian Huskies and German Shepherds. He loved snow and was a champion belly-skiier. 

It has taken me almost a week to be able to post this, and even now I'm still not quite sure what to say. I feel like there's something missing from this post, something so significant. 

There are many people in the world who do not believe animals have emotions. Science refuses to address the topic, thus keeping any 'credible' evidence on the subject off the table. Many people speculate over whether or not animals are capable of knowing about their own deaths, or even about their own lives. Even supposed 'dog lovers' refuse to see dogs as much more than pieces of property without desires or preferences of their own. Those of us who are able to know a dog who can teach us as much as Magic taught me about animals are truly lucky, for we don't need to ponder those questions. We already know the answers: dogs are not mindless food-slaves, but thinking, feeling, loving, sentient beings. 

There will be other dogs in my life, I'm sure, but Magic was the first and will never be forgotten. Thanks buddy. I love you.

Alex is staying in DC and will be making regular posts.