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Tag's brother, Trip on the left, and Tag on the right.
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This post is long overdue, but was set aside during my anniversary giveaway week. I didn't want to wait any longer to share it with you.
I only know one of the other puppies from Tag's litter. That's his brother, Trip who went to live with our dear friends, Doug and Marion in Michigan. I've written about them before, sharing photographs of us together in Florida, Michigan, and then here at the farmhouse after we moved back to Wisconsin.
Marion and I frequently shared conversations about our two lowriders, comparing notes about their personalities and antics. Even after Tag left us, she would tell me stories about Trip with their old Labrador, Nicky - and after Nicky's passing - their new Lab mix, Gibbs.
Trip went on walkabout when he was young and was hit by a car in their neighborhood. The only lasting injury from that accident was that he became deaf. As many Corgis prefer not to listen anyway (at least that was true with Tag), it didn't seem to bother him after he got used to it. He was living a happy life with the best family.
Marion grieved with me when Tag lost control of his back legs and we knew it was his time. They've been in our place before, having to make that hardest, most unselfish decision, so they knew what we went through.
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Trip Walter
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In mid-March this year, I had a phone conversation with Marion. Trip was having a harder time getting around and she felt his time was getting toward "his time". She repeated that she never dreamed Trip, with new health issues in his later years would outlive Tag, but here we were.
On March 22nd, I received a text. All it said was, "It's done". I knew she wouldn't be up for an immediate call, so we texted back and forth for a while through tears, promising to talk on the phone when she was ready. When she called about a week later, hoping that she and I could talk without crying, she told me that - just like Tag - he just completely lost control of his back legs.
While many people with dogs that face this issue put them into wheeled carts so they can walk and run using their front legs, that's just something that Marion, our spouses and I agreed we'd never do with our dogs. They both became incontinent with their condition, so we both saw the downside of them using the carts. The agonizing decision was made to let Trip go. He lived just past a year longer than my boy.
We ended our conversation in tears, and promised to talk again soon about other things. My comfort is two-fold. One, that our brothers are playing together again, and two, that we have great faith that we'll see them when it's our time. I've said more than once, "If my dogs (and all pets) aren't going to meet me in Heaven, then I ain't going".
So, dammit, here I am in tears again as I write this post. People who know me, know that I miss my boy every day. Every day. The tears and emotion are never far from the surface, so it's no surprise that I'm bawling again. I guess that's a good thing, right? I loved him so much, that my grief is an expression of the depth of my love. Tomorrow would have been Tag's fourteenth Birthday. I promise to remember him, but I won't be writing about him tomorrow. I wouldn't do that to you two days in a row. I'll write about something creative instead. He'd understand.
Sorry if you're in tears, too, as you read this. Honestly it wasn't my intention. I only wanted to honor the life and loss of his brother. Run free, Trip. I hope you and Tag (and the rest of your litter who may be with you) snuggle up every night and wait for us at The Bridge. Until then, know you're loved and missed.
I'm taking a deep breath now and pulling myself together. I worked my six hours yesterday, but Handsome and I went back to work after 8 pm last night. There was an incident after I clocked out that left the cashier on the night shift rattled. We only live three miles away, so we decided to go back up and stay at the store with her until her shift was over.
My boss had told me if I did that to clock back in, and I don't feel right clocking in for two hours without doing anything, so I worked scrubbing in the kitchen. (As an aside: When I saw the doctor this week, he put me on medication to help my knee.)
I tackled the food warmer and the pans that needed to be cleaned from the day's use sparkling clean. As I was banging metal pans around in the stainless sink, Handsome came in and said, "You know why you're doing this, right?" I said, "Sure. I can't just sit still on the clock." He laughed and replied, "No. It's the prednisone." I laughed. I hadn't realized it, but I guess he was right. Steroids can really amp you up. At least that's what's happened to me. Also, unlike many, rather than making me hungry. They take away my appetite. I just get busy.
Anyway, the rest of the evening was uneventful, except that the weather turned crappy and we ended up coming home in a driving snowstorm that turned to high winds and rain beating against the farmhouse overnight. Gotta love Wisconsin springs.
Thanks for reading this far today. I admit it's kind of a roller coaster ride. Today, I'm going to finish up the last of the giveaway gifts that have yet to be posted. These last few will mail tomorrow, so if you haven't received yours yet, you will soon. I'm going to have a coffee now, and get my act together. Talk about a Hump Day!
