“Remoted” – Day 514 (Thursday)

About three weeks ago, a vet appointment was scheduled for Moose on August 13. It seemed like a good idea to have him checked out and the timing worked with the magical convergence of a scheduled vacation day and an open appointment. His last visit was in June when Dr. Doom, who opens with the worst case scenario when discussing a checkup, said “Moose is in a bad way.” I followed up via email with Dr. B, Moose’s vet since 2013 in the same office, and comfort and pain control would be the path moving forward, but there had been no specific follow-up plan drafted. On August 4, I tried to get an earlier appointment, but vacation schedules, staffing shortages, and reduced hours at the vet (no longer open every Saturday) meant nothing was available.

Since our emotional and final visit to the emergency vet in Westford on Saturday, August 7, I’ve dreaded calling our regular vet to either cancel the appointment or change it to Winston. The idea of it was paralyzing, even knowing that cancelling it would free the spot for another pet, which was exactly the situation hoped for when I called about an earlier appointment for Moose. Saying the words “Moose is no longer with us” out loud feels nearly as brutal as saying about my brother, “John is no longer with us.”

It hurts my heart knowing I’ll never hear my brother’s laugh again, or share our growing up antics. I'll never again hear his funny takes on small-town life at the Cape, or his rants about technology and tourists that made him sound like he was 100 years old instead of from my generation.

It hurts my heart knowing I’ll never again be able to stroke Moose’s velvety ears or the coarse coat on his back that let me be able to know him from Winston’s silky coat in the dark with a single touch.

He takes to his bed.

Today, I finally called the vet to ask about bringing Winston for the appointment slot for a check on his diabetes. It turned out the appointment was already cancelled and rebooked. The emergency vet had contacted my vet, who then cancelled all Moose’s appointments, which also cancels the vaccine and appointment reminders which could be painful to receive. It makes sense. I teared up seeing the subject line of an email from Chewy.com today that said, “There’s no pet like Moose and Winston.” I know, Chewy, I know. <sniff, sniff>. My eyes filled and my hand shook when I tried to update the account and edit out Moose and I chickened out, so there will be more painful subject lines coming for a while.

Lately, Winston either wanders the house, or takes to his bed like a Victorian book character, curls up, and sleeps. I feel ya, little guy. If not for the blessings of work and taking care of Winnie to focus on, I'd be doing the exact same thing.