Survivor's guilt

(apologies in advance for beating this topic to death, am just doing what some of the counseling services recommend)

Edited prior to posting: Caution: this dreadful tale is not indicative of my current mood. Mostly I'm doing just fine.


"Survivor's guilt"

Kind of just a concept to me until Sunday when Rickey the dog died. Amazing animal, even more amazing life: Chose The Fourth Of July for his final exit. Hard act to follow, a trick like that. Rickey responded by barking to over thirty words. Sometimes felt i should have made him a traveling road act back in his younger days. Could probably have made some money at it.

Not sure at this point if Rick's trip to doggy heaven will put a damper on any future Independence Day celebrations. Kind of like what John Lennon's murder did to my sister's birthday back on Dec. 8th, 1980. Took me a few years to not always directly connect sister's birthday with the dead Beatle.

However July 4th always was my favorite holiday. ("Revolution? What Revolution? We haven't had one yet, but it's coming" Edward Abbey)

A chance to go blow something up. Just like Ed did actually. My guess is that all future July 4's will not carry any negative emotions related to my dead dog. Instead will give me a chance to REMEMBER the old boy down the line. And all the love he gave unconditionally. So i think.

Meantime there are a few nagging issues. I keep calling my hardy, young dog by Rick's name instead of his true name Barney. And Barney doesn't even "talk" like Rick did. He's not dumb per se but shit, no dog was as smart and slick as sweet old Rick.

"Want a beer? RuuuooFF!

"Speak" ROOF!

"Ya like sex?" Rooof again.

Yeah young Barney is so different in personality as to seem to almost come from another species of animal altogether. Rick was a reserved Border collie. Strong silent type, but whom wouldn't harm a fly.

Barney is outgoing, cuter (according to all the girls) and incredibly strong. Also prone to try and kill cats who strike at him. Ghastly thought I know but I keep him him on leash except at dog park (another word that made Rick bark). In Barney's defense he did live with a cat and kittens for a whole year once. All of them running loose in the house and he never even so much as hurt them.

It's just that an aggressive cat will result in an escalation of a fight which a half Pit Bull will surely "win" at some point. I know: am still paying off the vet bill for my landlord's cat. Minor injury but in order to get Barney off said cat I pretty much had to kick the shit out of him myself...

Rickey never would have done more than chase a cat, although he'd treed plenty of them through the years. Dogs really are idiots.

"Where's the kitty?" used to be my favorite saying when i wanted to fuck with the old dog's head. As Rick slowed down the past year or so i would say "Where's the kitty?" as a ruse in order to give him the charge he needed to climb up one of our steep San Francisco hills. For just that quick minute the old fire in Rick's ego ignited and he'd pull like hell on that leash to find my fictional cat.

Or bring out a tennis ball and the old dog would go from twelve down to five years old in a nanosecond. Psychology. Stupid animal! He would prefer death over letting any projectile thrown in his company get away from him! And in fact he almost did exactly that back in 2002 but that's another story. Well maybe i should touch upon that: On Feb. 12, 2002 Rick chased a rotten, dried out lightweight pine cone I threw for him. And in a freak accident falling hard and compressing a disk in his spinal cord. Temporarily PARALYZING him. Thought I'd have to put him to sleep but he made a miracle recovery.

So in the final analysis my life with Rick the past eight and a half years has been a total gift. Rick could easily have needed to be put to sleep a long time ago if he didn't recover from his spinal injury.

But then there's the guilt. Why? It's almost humorous. I felt guilty when i took the dead dog to Animal Care and Control Sunday. The heavyweight contractor bag holding a sixty pound bag of lifeless canine. Only spent the minimum $20.00 bucks to drop off the deceased friend. "You're being CHEAP Wiley". I did ponder spending the extra money to have him cremated and shipped over to "Pet's Rest": http://www.petsrest.com/In Colma

"Feels great to be ALIVE in Colma" the town's motto. More dead people there than living residents...

Nah.

Instead I wanted to spend just one more moment with my lifeless dog in the makeshift "body bag" (gruesome when you think about it). However the moment was brief. What was left wasn't Rick anymore.

Guilty because I didn't feel that my tears were real. Of course they were but at one point felt like I was trying to work the crowd for attention. Not so but that's what it felt like.

Shit am starting to feel guilty here and now for seemingly working the crowd at D/U AGAIN!...

WTF?

So I went extra cheap on Rick's funeral which was no funeral at all. Not even a service so far. However it just dawned on me that my beautiful sister in law up in Oregon had to put her poor old dog down just the day BEFORE my dog died. Poor dear actually had to physically bring animal to the vet herself and euthanize the critter.

That's HARD! Sucks big time. I've done it twice. Once when my dad was badly bitten by the family dog in 1974 or so (um euthanize the dog NOT dad). And once with my mother in law's dog. An animal named "Linda". Linda was over 17 years old and in pain and suffering. A dog, incidentally that reminded me of Old Rick.

Jeez I hated putting that dog down! I loved Linda. Sure sure it was the right thing to do. No doubt about that at all. However when I came home from Linda's death sentence swore I would never ever euthanize any animal again. Not even at the risk of letting an animal suffer. All bad choices actually. No real option at all.

I now feel very sorry for people in animal and human care centers.

Then there's my Episcopal Priest Lynn Bowdish. Lynn is the most energetic, 72 year old person you'll ever meet. Hey! Here's an idea. Good idea Wiley!

Let's meet Lynn:http://www.mefeedia.com/video/9540261

Lynn took the time to call me last night after the gig. To make sure i was doing alright. "Go with God" like she always says. What the hell else ya expect a Priest to say? It's what they do. Clerics are devout. Lynn's devout without being oppressive about it. Episcopalians: Not a bad religion actually if having a funny name. An anagram derived from of Pepsi Cola

Or maybe she's 73 now. At any rate you'll never meet a more positive, energetic happy person! And yet what is a major portion of any religious cleric's job?

Dealing with death. Dying people, survivors of dead relatives and family. Grief counseling. Goes with the turf. Guess they get used to it.

OK here's what I'm gonna do: Tomorrow (today actually as it's so late) am gonna send my beautiful sister in law a sympathy card for her dead dog. Time to look outwards Wiley. Instead of within.

Thanks for your indulgence D/U.

Wiley out.