[Dailydrool] Where are we now?

[Elizabeth via Dailydrool]

The post I just sent about our Elsinore starting to fade away made some allusions that may have people wondering what’s going on, where are they now, why do Ken and young Charlie appear to be missing in action? It was a long post I just sent, so I thought I’d put in all the details in a separate post. 

Last May Ken experienced a job loss that was pretty traumatic for all of us. If I were to explain it all, this post would end up being much too long. So, in a nutshell, he was ousted from his job, given an inadequate severance, and had to scramble to find a new job anywhere at a time of year when the pickings are slim in his profession. 

While our Elsinore was unenthusiastically eating prescription kidney-friendly kibble and having that penduncular mass removed from inside her mouth, Ken was job hunting and I was getting the house ready to put on the market because we were pretty sure our income would drop with whatever new job he got and we wouldn’t be able to keep it. I was also nursing young Charlie through a herniated disk episode that happened when he cut a turn too sharp while running in the backyard. In contrast to Elsinore, he’s a wonderfully compliant and cooperative patient. He made a complete recovery and is back to happily playing chase with anything that’ll chase him. 

The day after Elsinore’s first stroke, Ken had to leave to start his new, two-year position in another state and I’d just begun what turned out to be a seventy-day stint of showing our house a total of thirty-five times before we found a buyer. I was also packing boxes and hauling them to a storage unit. The day after her second stroke, Ken came back home for a weekend to help get her out to the backyard and back in the house again because I’d buggered my back. 

I juggled house showings and packing and hauling boxes with Elsinore’s physical therapy (two hours’ drive away) throughout the months of March and April. 

In May was the big push to get the last of the packing done, the movers in to haul all the big stuff to the storage unit, and the house cleaned before the closing. Elsinore, Charlie, and I lived with our friend Jennifer during that time. 

The move was confusing for Elsinore and Charlie. There were times at Jennifer’s when I’d walk in the door, and they’d greet me and then stand at the door expectantly, “Aren’t we going home now?” How do you tell a dog there is no “home” anymore? 

Elsinore has missed her doggie door. She values her autonomy and independence and hates having to depend on others for things she’d rather do herself whenever she wants, like going outside and coming back in again. It’s been hard for her to have to ask for what she wants and then wait for a human to do it for her. Of all the things I regret the most about this past year it’s been Elsinore not being able to keep that doggie door we installed for her and not being able to live out the last months of her life in what had been her home for all but three years or so of her life, a home we had set up for her comfort. I am so sorry she couldn’t have these things until her end. Charlie, on the other hand, doesn’t have a need for independence, and he’s fine without a doggie door. 

At the beginning of June the three of us transferred into the spare bedroom of another friend, Drooler Kelly Jane, and her basset, beagle-terrier mix, and cats. It would have been nice to have been able to join Ken, but affordable rental housing (especially when two dogs are involved) where he’s now living is pretty much nonexistent, and the cost of moving everything there for just two years, isn’t worth it. Currently he’s camping out in a third-floor efficiency apartment in a converted motel. Let’s just say it has character. I’m not really sure what we’re going to do next, but we’ve decided to spend the summer catching our breath and this fall we’ll start to plan where we’ll go from here and how we’ll get there.

Our hounds and Kelly Jane’s have known each other for years, so combining the two packs has gone smoothly. But young Charlie and those cats . . . As far as Charlie’s concerned, cats exist solely to play chase with him, and he’d actually prefer for them to be the ones chasing him. Cats, however, tend not to see this as a fun thing to do. It’s taken a whole lot of time, patience, positive reinforcement, and treats and treats and treats, but six weeks later Charlie’s able to let a cat walk past him without batting an eye, let alone emitting an anguished howl before bolting toward the unhappy feline. I’m very proud of him. I didn’t really think he could do it, but he has. He now plays gently—and quietly—with kittens, and can share a chair with a cat and relax enough to go to sleep. So as far as I’m concerned, hell has indeed frozen over. 

I don’t know how long this will be our situation, but we are all extremely grateful for this safe, calm harbor after a long and frightening storm. 

Elizabeth