There was no joy in the decision but perhaps a tinge of relief that we had finally made the one we all dreaded. I’m quite sure we all wanted her to die in her sleep at home but that was not to be – strong bugger. So we spent Monday evening and Tuesday saying our goodbyes, getting in last pats and snuggle time, giving treats that would not be given again and even food that was forbidden due to her allergies. Lots of tears and raw emotions flowed.

As it turned out Tuesday night/Wednesday morning was quite chilly in New England. When I awoke at 4:30 AM to take my son to work I could smell a wood fire burning through our open windows. A wood stove fire in June – wow! As I made my way into the kitchen I realized that the wood stove fire was ours – my son’s final gesture to his friend and companion was to build her one last fire.

During the dead of winter Lucy was addicted to the wood stove. She would lay right in front or on the side for hours, getting up only to drink and eat and go out. The image of Lucy sleeping in front of the wood stove is one that is etched on our collective memories so this was a totally appropriate gesture on a totally appropriate night.

The effort on my son’s part must have been substantial. To my knowledge he’s never built and started a fire in the wood stove in his life. I know from personal experience that getting one started isn’t easy. There’s a technique to getting it started and then kept going. For all I know he mothered that fire until it was capable of sustaining itself. The bellows were not in their usual spot so I know he had difficulty getting it going. Regardless the gesture was genuine, heart felt and one that reflected his cherished memories of Lucy.

I took my son to work and promised to keep the fire going for Lucy. I added another log or two when I got back and went to bed until it was 8 AM. By 9 AM we were all ready for Lucy’s last ride to the Vet. We all went and we all stayed to the end. I couldn’t have been there by myself and I’m glad that everyone opted to stay. I’m sure it comforted Lucy, not to mention each other in some way. She went quick and by all appearances quietly. We were all holding on to her as she went.

I know Lucy enjoyed the fire and it’s a memory I’ll always carry with me – my son’s love and devotion and Lucy’s last fire. A week hence and the emotions are a little less raw, the habits fading, but the eyes play tricks on me as I think I see Lucy from time to time out of their corners. I miss my constant companion and friend.

There’s no quality of life for her. She’s so thirsty all the time and there is no activity beyond eating and bodily needs. She rests wherever she is at and doesn’t move too much. At times even eating is tiring for her. I don’t think she’s in pain, but it’s clearly not comfortable being her right now.

I though I was over the feelings of loss, but I guess not. I tear up every time I think about her not being around any more. She’s been such a part of our lives these last 10 years and although we have Moe, he’s just not the same. Lucy’s seen Hannah grow up from age 5 to be a young lady now. Grant’s now a man and I don’t know how he’ll take the loss as Lucy’s been his constant companion – sleeping on his bed, hanging out with him, playing with him and offering comfort at times. I know this is hard on Yvette and I – we’ve never had to make this decision before. Morgan, our prior Boston, developed cancer and was gone before we could really say good-bye. This is way, way different.

In some respects I thing we all want Lucy to die at home so we wouldn’t have to make the decision. But I don’t think we can wait any longer. It’s painful to see her in the condition she’s in and I know it can’t be pleasant for her.

I don’t think I’ll keep the cremation ashes or be around for the final good-bye when she finally passes from this world and goes to wherever beloved pets go. I know that’s not in her consciousness but it’s in mine. I only wish the journey to be peaceful and not full of fear or pain. She will be missed – the hole in the fabric of the family will remain open for a time I suspect.

She was great with the kids while they grew up – my son now nearly 21 and my daughter 15 were so young when we got Lucy. She came into our lives when our other Boston “Morgan” died unexpectedly of a cancer we didn’t know she had. There was no time to say good bye to “Morgie” – it took her quick and Lucy filled a painful void with more love than we could ask.

Lucy trained easy and when we found out she was allergic to everything (including us), she easily switch over to a new diet of potatoes and lamb/beef with carrots for treats. She traveled well, greeted everyone with love, and when we got Moe the Yorkshire Terrier gladly welcomed him.

Lucy’s Star stopped rising some time ago with the advent of her cataracts and the increasing strain on her body from taking the steroids that kept her incessant allergies at bay. The same steroids that are now slowly killing her liver and giving her diabetes from which she can’t recover. Now blind from the cataracts and rapidly loosing weight – 3 lbs in 3 months – she’s been bearing up gracefully, but the vet said we should probably prepare to put her down.

So we’ll talk about it as a family. I think we all knew it was coming but didn’t want it to happen. I’m thankful for the unconditional love she’s given all of us, the fun we’ve shared together and the memories that will always be intertwined with her.

There really are no words to express my sadness about this. I don’t want her to suffer but I don’t want to say goodbye to a large part of our family. I know I won’t ever forget her just like I’ve never forgotten Morgan or Pfeffer. I want to be there to comfort her as her “star” goes out, just as she comforted and loved us all when we needed it.

I’ll miss her but won’t forget her.

This parody of the children’s classic Pat the Bunny is perfect for the babies in your life who are interested in physics.

It’s called Pat Schrodinger’s Kitty and if you’re into physics and have ever read your child Pat the Bunny, you’ll get a laugh out of it. Made my afternoon.

If physics isn’t in your repertoire, no problem – here’s a link to information on Schrödinger’s cat so you can enjoy the gag.

Dad would have loved it.

I made reservations Sunday evening December 14th, left Manchester, NH Monday morning 6:05 AM. He died around 6:30 AM while I was in route to Charlotte, NC. I didn’t learn of his death until I arrived in Johnson City, TN at around 11:30 AM. I’m always the last to know.

I’m glad I’m here with Mom to help her through the arrangements, provide support (and take some, after all big boys still need their moms) and be here so she’s not alone right now. On my side, I miss him so much – more than I ever expected that I would. As long as I have something to occupy my thoughts and actions I can get buy. It’s in the still of the activity and mind that overwhelming sadness grips me. The void will become manageable and less raw with the passage of time and events, but it’ll always be a void.

I don’t regret not being here when he died. I certainly would have like to tell him I loved him one last time and just sit with him and put my hand is his, but I have no regrets about unanswered questions, unmet expectations, or unfulfilled obligations. I just don’t get to ask any more questions now.

He lived a good life to the fullest, loved my mother for 49 wonderful years, raised me and my brother, and enjoyed his 3 grandsons and granddaughter. He enjoyed life. He was fond of this saying attributed to Bill McKenna:

Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming — WOW– What a Ride!

That’s my Dad, Larry Earl Axsom, and how I’ll always remember him. If you had a chance to meet him, I hope he left you with that impression too.

Reading between the lines a bit they are talking about “next week” and some other time frames that would seem to point to a period around Christmas. If he can make it until after Christmas, I’m going down and use some of my vacation to be with him. If not, I’ll go down before.

I don’t know if something they gave him finally took hold, his body corrected itself or a prayer was answered, but they didn’t have to shock him back in rhythm. The nurses say he’s sleeping like a log. Be nice to see him on a positive road to recovery after such an ordeal. We all though the last one was going to be the worst. Won’t be thinking that again.

He’s not recovering well and in fact is having cardio trouble. His blood pressure is extremely low, his breathing is shallow and his heart is racing at times. Mom updated me yesterday (Wednesday) on his heart problems and then again this AM letting me know that he had not improved and was in fact worse.

Just one day at a time, one day…

For me, I was totally unprepared from an expectations standpoint that he would be using a walker at home. I don’t know if that’s from weakness or from the treatment, since they go in through the groin area. I suspect it’s a combination, but probably more the latter. Still, realizing that Dad needs an assist to do something that I’ve watched him do all his lfe, be moble, is a bit jarring. I don’t expect it to be something that’ll last but I imagine it’ll reoccur with the conclusion of treatment. It’ll be interesting to see if he’s able to do without it before the next treatment date.

On the diagnosis side, he and his Dr’s are up against hepatocellular cancer or primary liver cancer not metastatic. It’s more rare in while males evidently and although it can spontaneously occur, it likely that he got it through tainted blood – past surgeries, etc. Got me thinking about donating my own blood if I ever have to have elective surgery. Looks like they’ll wait about 3 weeks or so for him to recover a bit and then start a hepatic artery embolization treatment schedule – 4 treatments spread out over 8 weeks. Assuming he starts around Nov 10th, he should be done with the inital treatment schedule sometime in the 2nd or 3rd week of January. Seems like a longish time for something urgent.

Hopefully Mom can get some rest as well now that Dad’s home – all that traveling back and forth to JC, not to mention being at home by herself couldn’t have been good on her physical and emotional well being. Still thinking about going home for Thanksgiving.