She’s always been a good girl. Always wanted, more than anything, to please. If I’m totally honest, this quality is not all that attractive to me, it feels anxious and a little desperate, and so Marisi and I never developed the sort of close, mind-meld relationship that’s possible with a dog. But that doesn’t mean—at all—that I don’t love her. Very much.
Back in 2014, I was briefly without a dog and was fostering, which was fun. Several dogs, including a mom with her litter, came and went. Then Marisi and Bean showed up, young puppies, sisters, scared. Nellie and I spent a lot of hours cuddling them on the sofa, and when it was time for them to go back, my daughter said Absolutely not! And I did not need a lot of convincing.
A few weeks ago, Risi seemed…off. Panting more than usual—is it the heat or something else? Lymph nodes on her neck were swollen. I’ve taken her to the vet twice. She’s had a blood test (negative—we were hoping it would turn up something easy to fix) and the lymph node aspirated. Just got the results yesterday: lymphoma. No treatment except palliative.
She’s been on prednisone same as me, and it helped her appetite but she is still suffering. Also still wagging her tail, still giving the occasional bark at the neighbors. Of course I can’t know what Bean makes of all this—they are so bonded and I worry about how she’s going to take the loss.
Dogs. They are one of life’s true wonders, and Risi has been a real trooper, a happy French dog, and we will miss her terribly. In the meantime, we’re in that shadowy phase of trying to figure out when the time has come. How to judge when a life is no longer worth living?
(Listening to the birds at dusk)
I think this weekend will be her last. Sweet Risi.
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