Last Christmas was sort of tragically pathetic, but since I have a rather sick sense of humor, I can chuckle about it today. I was remembering last Christmas because I have begun to think about the holidays. It's almost November and once again, the season has crept up on me and I will soon be feeling uninspired, overwhelmed, and frantic. I hate that. I wish I was the type of person who planned and prepared all year long. Who am I kidding? That is never going to happen. There might still be time, though, for me to put a little forethought into the holiday season. We'll see. Anyway, back to last Christmas...
It was my first Christmas without a husband (no, I'm not a widow, although violence has occasionally crossed my mind). My youngest and her family were in Arizona and could not come home for the holidays. The other three were going to have their own family stuff at their houses first and then everyone was going to come up to my house for Christmas dinner and gifts for the little ones. It was a different plan than we had done in the past but I think we were all feeling like we just couldn't do things the same as we had always done. It wasn't the same, never would be the same again, and we just couldn't face the hole that betrayal had left.
The kids did come over on Christmas Eve for our traditional soup supper and stocking fest. My dog, Dakota, seemed a bit off and I decided to keep her locked up in my bedroom for the evening. The little ones made her nervous even when she was feeling well. Dakota had been Jenny's dog until she left home and now was really my husband's but of course, when he bailed, he left her behind. For a while, she had looked for him every morning (they used to walk down to the mailbox together) and every evening for a little roughhousing. She had made the transition, finally, and now had settled for me. She'd always been a little crazy and high strung and even though she was 12 or 13 years old, she could still tear up our long driveway in front of my car. When I went to my room later that Christmas Eve, I realized that she wasn't in any shape to run. She was very sick and was throwing up constantly. I moved her to the hall bathroom where it would be easier to clean up and she continued to get sick. She seemed excessively thirsty but would almost immediately throw up any water she drank. This went on all night long. I felt horrible for her but didn't know what to do. Neither one of us slept and by morning we were both exhausted. I sensed that things were getting critical but it was Christmas Day and I was just trying to survive. My dad and brother were supposed to come for breakfast and then the kids and grandkids were coming later in the day.
My dad woke up that morning and wasn't feeling well so he called to say he would skip breakfast. My brother never showed up. It was just me and Dakota and we were in sad shape. I love having animals but I am filled with such heaviness when it becomes apparent that they are at the end of their lives. I had to face the fact that Dakota was dying. She was so sick. I tried to start on Christmas dinner and I checked on her every few minutes. She continued to worsen. Finally, I could stand it no longer. I left everything as it was in the kitchen, put her in my car, and drove to the 24 hour emergency vet clinic in Atascadero. I called the kids on the way down and they all insisted that they wanted to come with me but some things I just have to do alone. This was one of them. The people at the clinic were so kind and I sat on the floor with Dakota until she was gone. I was relieved that she was no longer suffering but it seemed such a depressing end to a very difficult year. I got so angry about the fact that I was dealing with this by myself instead of sharing it with Paul. But those thoughts weren't doing me any good. I was glad for the long drive home so that I could cry for Dakota, for myself, for my kids, for my marriage. It gave me time to pull myself together and suck it up. It was Christmas Day! Really, who puts their dog down on Christmas Day! It just didn't seem fair.
When I arrived home Donny and Melissa were already there and were working on the dinner and setting the table. Everyone else arrived shortly thereafter (Zac with a beautiful turkey) and all pitched in to get the meal on the table. My kids and their husbands were awesome and in spite of the dog glitch we still ate relatively on time. Later, I was sitting on the couch enjoying a White Trash Margarita (*recipe to follow) and reflecting on the day. I realized that I was so tired from being up all night and had been so consumed by dealing with the dog that I hadn't had the time or energy to cry about the devastation that was my life. Dakota was an old dog, She had been hit by cars three times and had survived a rattlesnake bite. She was a tough old girl but wasn't going to live much longer. God, in His graciousness, chose that particular Christmas. Should I have been rejoicing in the celebration of Christ's birth? Of course! But He knew that I was so wounded and raw from all that had happened and He also knew my heart and mind would be on all that was wrong that year. I'm so grateful for His mercy to me that day and I'm grateful that He doesn't expect perfection from me. He used Dakota's death to ease me through a day that otherwise would have been much more painful. I'm looking forward to this Christmas. It has to be better than last year! But I remember last year with thankfulness for a little black dog that stood by me until the end and for the God who knew just what I needed.
*White Trash Margarita
Mix equal parts of Limeade frozen concentrate (do not dilute) and Vodka in a blender. Add plenty of ice and blend until slushy. Enjoy! (Can also be made with frozen Pink Lemonade.)
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