There are no words…

Sometimes there really are no words for things.  For three weeks I have felt that way, that there are no words.

Spike has been more than a pet to Tim and I for 14 years.  He’s part of our family.  I mean look at this face.  How could you not love him?

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It’s the Saturday before Mother’s Day, and our house is busy with activity.  As I’m in the bathroom upstairs getting ready to leave, I hear one of the most awful sounds. Immediately I know what it is. Spike is hurt.  As I pull back the curtain from the window, I have a clear view of the driveway where Spike is laying beside a truck that was recently moving.

As Tim and I are driving him to the vet, Tim’s hand is bleeding pretty bad because Spike bit him in the midst of his pain and confusion.  I should note that Tim doesn’t do well with injury to himself and blood.   In this 10 minute drive, Tim is now getting very pale, sweating ridiculous amounts, and bleeding quite a bit.  As we pull in, he then starts vomiting out the car door.  I quickly take Spike between rounds of vomiting and head in by myself as Tim is sitting in the car working hard to not pass out.  Tim keeps telling me he is ok, but he really doesn’t look it.

There are no words…

We find out Spike has a fractured pelvis that is disconnected from his spine on his right side.  Upon giving him back to us, Spike cries non-stop for the next three days.  There was nothing we could do to calm him. He simply cried no matter what we did and slept very little.  The poor dog was so confused because he couldn’t stand. He was in pain and really high from the drugs.

The last few weeks have been interesting.  Our dog functions a lot like a baby now: needing carried everywhere, fed special food that we deliver to him, waking us up throughout the night, cleaning up frequent accidents, and so much more.

Spike has never needed this attention, and we don’t typically give him this much attention.  It’s all a little weird, and yet similar to what we should be doing for Enoch.  I’ve watched Tim be a really good dad to our dog.  He gives me the updates on medicine, tells me how to pick him up or hold him without hurting him, and gets him blankets to lay on on the floor since he can’t jump on or off the couch. He’s sweet and does so well caring for Spike.

I’ll be honest; it’s all a little confusing.  Why is our dog needing attention like a baby?

We should have a baby, but he died.
Our dog was hit by a car on Mother’s Day weekend.
Now he needs treated like a baby.
There are no words…

And yes, Tim’s hand is fine.

 

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