I Got The Morbs

 I came across a new phrase:

I saw that and a light bulb went off.  That's me.  I have the morbs. 

I know I will be OK.  I know I will be happy again.  I know I will one day tell fun stories about our silly dog, and I won't cry.  I know.

But for now, I have the morbs.

I'm just sad.

Life is going on as usual, and that just feels wrong.  She shouldn't die, and our lives just go on as usual.  

But it does.

And even that makes me sad.

Watching two dogs go out and two dogs come in makes me sad.  It's supposed to be three.  

Eventually two will be normal.  And that makes me sad.

Everyone has been so wonderful.  Everyone.  And I thank you all for that.

I know the reason y'all are so wonderful:  because you are ALL animal lovers, and you have all been here.  You know my pain, because at some time, it was your pain.  

My neighbor told me Cecelia, which we often shortened to Celia and even "Silly", would often talk and bark through the fence at our neighbor as she would be going to her trash and recycling.  Our neighbor said she would miss that.  And, of course, that made me sad.

Cecelia would also always howl at a siren.  And, because she had dog ears, she would hear the siren first.  We always knew a siren was coming before we ever heard it, because of her howling.

Because the world is made up of cliches, I told my best friend, "It's the price we pay for having them in our lives and loving them so much."

Because she is so wonderful, my best friend replied, "And that price is so worth it. I won't regret the time being sad when I had the time being with them❣️"  

I love that.

And it's true.

Even knowing how sad I would be to lose her, I would still take Cecelia over and over again.  

A friend shared this:

And if that isn't true!!  Oh, she could drive us crazy.  But I would give anything for her to be driving me crazy for a little bit longer.  

But, as we all know, I will be OK.

And life will go on.

Cecelia.... some more

 All of our animals are getting older.  

We know this.

We've discussed it.  

Dolce is our oldest.  Her little muzzle is gray.  She doesn't always come when we call.  Her hearing is not what it used to be.  She has slowed down.  Plays less;  sleeps more.

But, being a small breed, she should have a few years left.

Georgia is the one we tend to worry the most about.  Her muzzle is gray.  She's a lab.  Labs, on average,  don't have long life spans.  She has trouble getting around at times, and we give her medicine for her joints.  We know she is aging.

We have cats that are aging as well.  But cats tend to have long life spans, so again, we don't overly worry about them.

And then there was Cecelia.

We didn't worry about her.  

We joked about her.

Her muzzle wasn't graying.  She wasn't slowing down.  She was as chipper and spry as always.   

Our only worry with her was what would she do when Georgia was gone.

And then yesterday happened.

I still don't know.

At 4:00pm she was herself.  There was no indication that anything was wrong. Nothing unusual or out of the ordinary.  Nothing.

By 5:30pm she was dazed and confused.  Wobbly on her legs.

By 8:30pm she was gone.

As I said,  the vet said maybe a seizure.  But she was supposed to come out of a seizure.  

I was expecting her to wake up, shake her head and look at me like, "what the crap just happened??"

She didn't.

I sat out there petting her and talking to her, and she just didn't wake up.

At least, to our knowledge, she didn't suffer.

We will never know what happened in the hour and a half we were not at home, but even when she was dazed, she didn't appear to be in pain.  As I pet her, she didn't appear to be in pain.  We have that.

So, of course, we are having a storm.  I was awoken by the thunder and lightening, and my first thought was, "You don't have to be scared anymore, little one.  You don't ever have to be scared again."

Georgia woke up.  She went crazy.  She was nervously walking around the bed.  Looking.  Sniffing.  She indicated going outside.  I told her it was raining.  She wanted out. She was frantic.  She ran out into the storm.  Walking around.  Looking.  Sniffing.  

Now I am no dog whisperer, but Mark and I are convinced she was looking for Cecelia.  Cecelia always ran to Georgia for comfort during our storms.  

But not this time.

And Georgia didn't understand.

As I was writing this, the part where I told Georgia it was raining, reminded me of something from the other night.

I heard Mark talking from the other room, but couldn't make out what he was saying.  So I asked.   His reply:  "Oh, nothing.  I was just talking to the dogs!"

You know, you wake up in the morning wondering what the day will bring.... but we just never saw this one coming.

She was gonna drive us crazy and out live us all......

Cecelia Beaux

Georgia needed a friend.  

We had Dolce, but she was so little.  And a bit older.  

Georgia needed a friend closer to her own size.  And her own age.

Mark knew a guy who was fostering a dog.  Did we want to take a look?

Sure.  Ok.

We went and met with the dog.  She was so skittish.  So anxious. 

Mark was sold on her pretty quickly.  He decided this dog was just what Georgia needed.  

I wasn't so sure.  

She was just so .... scared.

But, because she was so scared, and nervous and anxious, and skittish, I also felt we NEEDED to get her.  

If not us, then who? 

I mean I am one of THE BIGGEST animal lovers on the planet.  If I didn't want this dog, who would??

We took her.

I have always felt she must have been abused somewhere before we got her.  Again, she was just SO scared.  And nervous.  

From the time we got her, she was our most difficult animal.

Way back when we were still in Bishop, a few of our chickens were killed.  That crushed me.  I loved our little chickens.  And all the clues pointed to Cecelia.  Now, to be fair, we never saw her kill a chicken, but the clues were there.

So, I did a horrible thing.

I gave her back to the ASPCA.

We couldn't have a dog that killed our chickens.

But then.... if we didn't love her, who would??

And now she would be even harder to adopt.  Now her records showed she was a returned killer!  

No one would want that.

No one would want her.

I went back.

The very next day.

I need my dog back.  Somehow, we'll make this work.  

And y'all, she was Georgia's shadow.

As nervous, and scared and skittish as she was, she absolutely latched on to Georgia.

Oh, Georgia's going to eat?  OK, I can eat.

Oh, Georgia's going to go outside?  OK, I can go out.

Oh, Georgia likes this person?  OK, I can try to like them too.

She would do almost nothing until Georgia did it first.  We often wondered what would ever happen to Cecelia if Georgia went first?  Cecelia needed Georgia.  Georgia was her protector.

Cecelia was just always our hardest.  

She was our digger.  Holes all over the yard. 

Because she was so scared, she's the one who would scratch at the door.

 She was the one we always had to keep an eye on.

She was the one who dug holes under the fence.  Sometimes they would be big enough for her to get out.  But they would always be big enough for Dolce to get out.  

Our dogs were always getting out of our yard because of the holes Cecelia was digging.  Grrrrr.  

This is why all my dogs wear collars with their names, but my phone number.

When we were living in Lumberton, Cecelia escaped - once again.

She was gone for ten days.  And those ten days were storming.  Thunder.  Rain.  Lightening.  More rain.  It was so bad.

I called animal control.  

I called every vet in the area.

I posted in multiple groups on Facebook.

No Cecelia.

Mark and I combed the neighborhood. 

Again.  And again.

No Cecelia.

And then.... one morning around 4am, Dolce and Georgia went crazy.  Woke us up with their craziness.

Mark was all, "What the....??"

And I have no idea how I knew, but I knew.

Cecelia was home.

It was pouring down rain, and she was scratching to get in.

We brought her in and she was wet and cut up and scratched up and thin.  Oh so thin. 

We took her to the vet and had her checked out, ....and she was home!!

After that, any time there was a storm, she was so scared.  And I always tried to make sure she was never left outside in the rain.  And I would hold her and love her and tell her it was OK. 

And Georgia was growing older.  Slowing down.  Getting gray.

And Dolce was growing older.  Slowing down.  Getting gray 

But not Cecelia.  She wasn't gray.  She wasn't slowing down.  She was still healthy, and happy and hyper.

Mark and I often joked that she was our hard one, but she was the one who was going to live forever.  

Only she didn't.

We often worried what would happen to her once Georgia, her protector, was gone?  What would she do?  

We no longer have to worry about that.

She was our hardest.

She was trying.

But we loved her.

We tried and tried and tried to make her feel safe.

...and now she's gone.

And I am so so sad.

I hope she was happy.

Because if we didn't love her, who would??