All About You FRIDAY – A Rightly Timed Pause

Male hand pressing pause icon on a virtual display screen.

I am a natural do-er and get-it-done-er. If something is broken, I want to fix it. If there is work to be done, I roll up my sleeves. Action has never been a problem for me. It’s the opposite that stumps me now and again.

“The vet says she may have 3-6 months to live,” she said as tears filled her eyes. My partner was speaking of her beloved dog, Oakley, an 11-year old border collie but on many days acting like many years younger. She had taken her to the vet due to a chronic rhinitis and the general exam found some growths on her spleen. Thousands of dollars of testing later, the diagnosis is still inconclusive. We are awaiting the results of her most recent thoracentesis.

I didn’t grow up with a dog. My parents got a miniature dachshund right when I was leaving for boarding academy. Barney grew up and old while I was away at school as I was only home for extended periods in the summers from my sophomore year in high school until I graduated with my PT degree. So, bonding with a dog was never a part of my upbringing.

But in the past few years, I have bonded with these two dogs: Oakley and Quinn.

Cute, aren’t they?

I shock myself when I hear my dog voice. I never thought I’d walk into the house and start talking to an animal in a tone I never use with anyone else. I still get annoyed with the dog hair and if I step in dog drool it sends me running across the house yelling, “Ewww!”

But when Oakley and I have shared some moments. Like how she sits at the foot of the steps every morning awaiting a treat that I will give her. Or when she comes into the upstairs living room while I’m working and lies on the couch next to me. And she has absorbed countless of my lunch time “performances” as I’ve wielded my guitar and sung at the top of my lungs, something I never do if anyone else is in the house.

“What did you think of that?” I ask. She just looks up at me. But she doesn’t leave, so I figure that is a good sign.

When Liz announced the potentially dire news, I sprung into action.

First, offer a positive outlook.

“Have you ever seen the movie, The Farewell?” I asked. “We don’t know the outcome of this, so we should act normal.” That was my plan. Treat her like she was living, not dying. That was my plan.

I did research on spleen cancer in dogs. I stopped at the pet store on the way home and bought her natural dog food. I downloaded one of those dog translation apps, so I could ask her questions.

“Do you feel sick?” I asked the app to translate.

“(Woof!)” my phone barked as I put it up to Oakley’s ear. No response.

“Are you in pain?” I asked the app to translate

“(Woof Woof)” my phone barked.

Honestly, it sounded the same no matter what I said. I stopped after several questions and getting the side eye from her.

Last night, Oakley wasn’t acting herself. Maybe it was PTSD from the severe storm that blew through the area while neither one of us was home. Or maybe she is sick.

When a doer has nothing left to do and the one you love is hurting and sad, it shifts your world. I had a long day at work and then a board meeting afterwards. I had plans to get some things done at home, but I felt paralyzed. I didn’t know what else to say.

So I sat. And I prayed. And I held the one I love.

Last night, I was reminded that it may be time to just take a pause. Feel the moment. And wait to see what comes next.

I hope Oakley wakes up today looking her happy self. If you are so inclined, say a prayer for her well-being and longevity and send some good vibes our way.

And if you find yourself in a tough situation with nothing else to do or say, know it’s ok to pause. I’ve learned that sometimes the answers come in a whisper and you might miss them if you’re making too much noise.

“The right word may be effective, but no word was ever effective as a rightly timed pause.” – Mark Twain

It’s been a long week. Don’t forget to celebrate.

Until next time…