….

Can’t think of anything to say that I haven’t already said before.

Saying Goodbye

I decided this morning that I would write about my goodbye to Morpheus so that no one asks me about it.

Yesterday around 5:45pm we had Morpheus euthanized. I know it was the right choice to make, but I can’t seem to get the memory of seeing his last breath and his silence out of my head.

For those of you that didn’t know, Morpheus had cancer. I found out at the end of May while at the vet for Morpheus’ vomiting. After they did exploratory surgery they told me he had days to live. He lived another two months. He was like his old self thanks to some medication. After that we noticed one of his stitches wasn’t been absorbed by his body. He was put on antibiotics. We left for our honeymoon trusting that when we would come back he would be fine.

We came back to a wheezing dog. A few days later we find out he had liquid in his lungs from a growth on his lungs. We also find out that the cancer has grown back with a vengeance. Nothing helps, especially the meds they gave him for the liquid that also cause dehydration. Tuesday night Morpheus vomits at least ten times and doesn’t want to be loved on. Wednesday he doesn’t eat or drink. All he does is look at me like I am the most horrible person in the world for force feeding him water. He can hardly breath. The dog I have loved for almost eight years is suffering and all I can do is cry. I know that he is only going to get worse, so I make the call to the doctors office.

An hour and a half later we are waiting in the room for the doctor to come in. They had a towel and a box of tissues set on the counter. They then explain that they will sedate him and then inject him with the medication that will stop his heart. Will and I say our goodbyes as he slowly falls asleep with his tongue sticking out of his mouth. His tongue will no longer give me kisses on my cheek. His tail no longer wags. Will and I break down. I know that a piece of me died with him. Morpheus was more than my dog. He was my companion and best friend. He loved me unconditionally and I loved him. He helped me through depression. He loved me in the good times. He touched so many with his personality.

I woke up this morning without him to lick me awake. Instead I had Abacus there staring at me. Just as I am suffering in my loss of a great friend, so is he. Abacus was two months old when we came home to us. All he has known is Will, Morpheus and I as his loved ones. He still looks for him. He misses him. How do I explain to him that Morpheus isn’t coming back to play?

I now wait for the call to pick up his ashes. I don’t know how long it will take. I plan on burying his ashes in the first yard he knew, my parents’. I plan on planting a tree in his honor. I hope that he likes resting in the Puerto Rican soil he used to play in. I hope he knows I how much I loved him. I hope that his soul is happy no longer suffering. I hope that I get to see him in the next life because I know that our love and connection must be longer than his almost 8 years of life.

I know life will go on. I also know that life will not be the same without him. I am learning to cope with that. I feel bad for my husband. He has to deal with me and my heartbreak. I am trying to be strong. I know this is something I will have to try for everyday. I don’t think I will be very good at it, but I will try. I will do it for Abacus and for Will. I will also do it because Morpheus wouldn’t want to see me cry. If he was here he would do what he did most of his life, lick my tears away.

I am sorry Morpheus. I miss you and will always love you. <3

Finding the way to cope

I had posted on my facebook page just a few days ago the blindsiding news that Morpheus has cancer. I say blindsiding, because I was in fact blindsided when the veterinarian told me that she thought she could feel a large mass in his midsection. I had gone in with Morpheus because he had repeatedly vomited his food. I didn’t think too much about the vomit since back in 2007 he had gastritis and I thought he was probably having the same thing again.

What I did not expect was for the doctor to have three of her colleges come and feel Morpheus and all have the same look of worry on their faces. Bloodwork was taken, all which came back normal, until finally a radiology was taken. Morpheus did in fact have a tumor the size of a grapefruit in his midsection. I was aghast. How the fuck did the doctors not notice it when he had his yearly exam back in August??? How had I not noticed that my dog was clearly sick??

I was given antibiotics to administer to him once we got home and special food for his vomiting. He was also given a shot to help him keep his food down.  On my way home I broke down. I had been texting with Will since he was in Alabama in Space Camp with the six graders and wasn’t nearby to talk to. I called my parents. I had to share the news in fear that if I kept it in I was going to die of sadness. The doctors had said for me to call them 3 days later to let them know how he was doing and if he didn’t go back to normal they were to schedule an exploratory surgery to see if they could remove the mass.

I ended up calling the doctors the next day. Morpheus wasn’t hungry. His normal loving and happy attitude was gone. He was lethargic. They scheduled his surgery for the next day, Friday. Once I got to the offices I was told that there was a great chance that the mass could not be removed. Four hours later I got the call that the tumor was too involved with his intestines and it was impossible to remove. They then asked me if I wanted him to wake up from surgery. I lost it. I told them yes that I wanted him to wake up. At that moment I was at work. I had to leave. I was a mess. I talked to the office and left work. I went over to the doctors office. I wanted to know what his options were. They told me there were none. They thought it was a miracle he was that healthy, that “fat”. While there he heard my voice and woke up, trying to find me. I knew then that he was a fighter. I told them I wanted to take him home once the meds wore off. I knew they there were just doing their job but being told Morpheus was a goner and had ‘days’ left was too much. If he was going to die I wanted him home with Abacus, Will, Ivy and I. He was sure as hell not going to be left on an operating table.

That was Friday. Today, three days later, Morpheus is doing pretty well. He is eating. He is drinking water. He is farting up a storm, but he is here. I can take his horrible farts as long as I know he is doing okay. I am not going to lie, there have been some worrisome moments. He has crawled under the bed, rubbing the six inch incision at least four times. He has pulled some stitches out. He has bruising in the area of the operation. All of these things he has done because he is active. All of these things he has done because he hates being told what to do. He is a fighter.

He is my son. For people that don’t understand how someone can love a dog so much has clearly never met Morpheus. My friend Katrina wrote on my wall something that describes Morpheus perfectly. “He is the most intelligent and lovable dog I have ever met”.

Morpheus has been my companion for the last seven and a half years. He has been with me through the ups and downs. He has been with me as boyfriends have come and gone. He has been on more plane rides than a lot of people I have met. He as lived in two different states and Puerto Rico. I will miss him whenever his time comes. But that time isn’t here yet and I plan on making sure he is loved and cared for until that time comes.

Thats how I am coping. I am going to fight for him. Just like he would fight for me. Fuck you grim reaper, you are going to have to get through me to get him.

Happy Birthday Morpheus Cornelius!

Today six years ago my darling Morphy was born. He was the runt of the litter and no one wanted him. One month after his birth I was given him as a ‘present’ and since then Morpheus and I have had each other. I do have to admit that at the time I did not want a dog. I had just finished my first semester of my third year of college and my great grandmother had recently passed. She was 95 years old. Needless to say, taking care of a puppy and all the responsibilities that it entailed wasn’t what I wanted to get into.

As my mother walked in the house I noticed that my grandmother had a grin on her face-all the alarms went off in my head-run away! Just ten minutes before I had ended a phone conversation with my mother, telling her that I didn’t want the runt that nobody else wanted-I was in college, lived in a small apartment and just didn’t want the burden. But like a lot of things in life, my darling mother didn’t agree with my argument.

As my mother moved to the right, my grandmother stepped forward, with a small black and white pup in the palm of her hand. The moment he looked at me I knew I was doomed. During the rest of my Christmas break I tried to figure out how I could get the dog to listen to me, be on a schedule that I could deal with (feeding and pooping) and what to name him.

Back in 1998 my parents let my brothers and I have our first dog ever. Her name is Cenizas. She is a sweetie pie with us, but very protective of the house and doesn’t warm up to others. Shortly after we brought her home my mother decided that Cenizas was lonely. One day she came home with a blond male puppy, without asking any of us what we  thought. We decided to name him Zeus after seeing him defend himself against the much older and bigger Cenizas. Since then all the dogs in our family have been named after a God or Goddess. After Cenizas had a litter with another dog, this time my dad decided to breed her without askingus kids about it, we kept two of the four puppies and named the girl Ishtar and the boy Osiris.  Taking into account that the puppy my mother and grandmother had brought me was in fact Zeus’ half brother, I wanted to make sure I gave him a fitting name. On the second day of him being with me I noticed that out of the 24 hours in a day he would sleep a good 22 hours. The other two hours he would use to play, poop and eat. I then named the black puppy Morpheus, after the Greek god of sleep.

Morpheus then began the journey of riding in a car without getting sick. He also learned to poop inside the house in the appropriate spot (my apt didn’t have a yard and I wanted him to learn that if he pooped inside it had to be in a predetermined area), when he was going to be fed, and most importantly, that mommy loves to sleep and waking her up at 5, 6 or 7 am was not going to be tolerated. Morpheus has lived in two college apartments, two graduate school apartments and 4 houses. He has lived in Puerto Rico (where he was born), Arizona and Arkansas. In all of his travels and everyday life he has been a great and well behaved dog. I love him and am glad that he has been with me all these years. Mommy loves you Morphy!

Morpheus in pictures:

As a puppy

During his first snow in 2006

Thanksgiving 2008

Fall 2009

At the park today

Posing with a big leaf

One of his new toys before

New toy after