Floyd

I know it’s ridiculous that I sit here uncomfortably
Squeezing into a space, barely enough for my tiny body.
I  take up a small piece of a couch cushion.
My old dog, joints stiff, sprawls out and sleeps
His slow, deep breath is steady.
His butt rests on my cushion, pressing into my leg.
For fourteen years I’ve felt his solid, warm touch.
He’s never wanted to be far from me.
At times it’s seemed that he wanted to crawl
Through my skin down to my very soul, 
So that he would be joined to me, 
More tightly than even my own shadow could be.
For him the world has turned dimmer.
His cloudy eyes can’t always find me
As he wanders through our house.
So, I wave my arm in the air
Flagging him down as if he was a taxi.
He no longer hears me call to him
Or even, the rustle a bag of food.
He never forgets when dinner is though
And he can smell the tiniest scrap of food. 
He has also learned that a thumbs-up sign
Means that I think he is a “good boy”.
When I do this, his whole face brightens 
His gray muzzle shaping a doggy grin.
We have bumped together through many years
Learning each other's moods and patterns.
Many times I rested my face against him
Reassured by his loving presence.
And he has pressed his face against my hand
Wanting to absorb all my affection.
So I will sit uncomfortably on this couch
And be thankful for the space he takes up.

My Patient’s Last Day

I remember when an old office mate
Spoke of the time I laid down on the floor beside her desk.
Curving my body around her old, oversized chihuahua mix,
Like you would with a lover or a child.
I had done it, because it felt like the only thing I had to give.
I couldn’t take away the sadness in my coworker’s voice.
She had softly told me that she thought it was Daisy’s time.
And I couldn’t ease the pain and fatigue
That I saw in Daisy’s eyes as she lay there.
All I had was my warmth and presence.

I suppose lying on the floor at work is odd,
But to be honest, it’s not that out of character for me.
I have climbed into very large boxes and put small boxes on my head.
I have claimed I do this for no other reason than because I can.
Some people climb mountains for this very same reason.
Me, I clamber to the peaks of absurd.
Perhaps I do it to chase away my own sadness,
Or maybe my heart is just part jester,
And I am designed to make others laugh.
Or maybe it’s some strange collage of both
After all, a heart is made of chambers, and they are not identical.

On that day, as I cuddled Daisy
I felt a sort of peace and purpose.
I don’t believe in God…
Well, I probably do.
What I can’t accept is a biblical or all knowing deity.
There is something more though.
I’ve experienced moments,
When spirits touch each other,
And something greater is happening
Than sharing their body heat and breath.
That is more.
A living creature is more than biology.
Perhaps my mind is just too simple to comprehend,
How millions of cells, driven by genetic code,
Can create a being that loves or wags or plays in the rain.
How we can each be so unique, and yet,
Across species and time and distance,
We can all be so incredibly similar?
If you spend enough time with animals
Then you will certainly catch them laughing
And you may well see them weighted down by sadness.

Many years have passed since the coworker told me
How moved she was by the time I spent with Daisy.
I felt more awkward at her words then I ever did
Singing an improvised ditty during work hours.
Perhaps both of those actions are nothing more
Than a complex part of my DNA
Perhaps no one has a calling or path to follow.
There is so much in life I don’t understand,
And so much I will never know.
I have learned though
And there’s things I’m meant to do
I am no longer embarrassed by my compassion.

So, in many ways today was just another day
Of being a veterinary oncology assistant.
(Unfortunately, cancer is another thing we all share).
But it also reminded me of that long ago moment
When I had cuddled Daisy on the floor.
There’s hope and celebration in this work I do,
But I’ve also gotten good at recognizing a patient’s last day,
Especially the ones that I’ve seen for months at a time
Getting to know their moods and mannerisms.
And today, it was sweet, little Ollie.
I didn’t know him as well as some,
But I still missed his spark when I entered the lobby.
He sat so quietly and limp in his mom’s arms
As she struggled not to cry.
I carried him gently back to the exam room
Trying not to hurt him as I held him.
As the veterinarian and his mom talked and planned
(She would take him home to enjoy a few more days)
Ollie and I were alone and quiet.
I didn’t need to get his blood or give any treatment
So, we could just cuddle as our hearts beat together,
And I offered him my warmth and peace.
It’s such a simple but important gift to give.