Life blood

This is not my actual blood, of course. But I did donate blood again, finally! Last night I was walking into the market to do a little shopping for dinner, and happened to notice the giant green bloodmobile humming away at the other end of the parking lot. Thinking I would at least do the finger stick part, to see if my iron has come back up yet, I went in to ask how quickly they could get me in and out of there ... and 30 minutes later I was walking out with my purple bandage and my apple juice box and my little sticker that says, "Be nice to me! I gave blood today."

I love giving blood. I mean, I hate it – needles, etc. – but I love the idea that you can actually give part of your body to someone else to help them heal and be well. I have this little meditation I do to bless the blood as it goes into the bag.

This afternoon was another medical excursion as I took two hours off in the middle of the day to take Tater to have his eye checked out. As I had suspected, he has a scratch on his cornea – not sure if that's what was causing the irritation, or if he scratched it himself by pawing at his sore eye – but we left with some eyedrops that are supposed to help clear up the goop. We also got a heartworm test (negative) and another six months' worth of heartworm chews, a bottle of Rimadyl (anti-inflammatory for the arthritis in his messed up wrist), three shots (bordatella, distemper and corona), and the first in a series of Adequan injections, which are also supposed to help with his wrist. The grand total for all this was just under $200 – a number which actually caused me to gasp with relief, since it seems like I hardly ever get out of there for under half a grand.

Then again, there's always next week: he's going back to have his teeth cleaned and those lumps and warts removed, and possibly have a new x-ray of his wrist depending on what the orthopedist thinks when they go over his tests from last year.

The one bright spot is that they always shave his feet for free when he goes under, which is great because along with brushing his teeth, that's something he absolutely will not let me do. And if a "free" five hundred buck foot shave saves me from having to pay for foxtail removal once or twice this summer, it will have paid for itself.

All this makes me think of the dog we had when I was a kid – Gigi. When we talk about her now we mostly call her "the Jeej," which somehow now sounds a little disrespectful to me. She was the best-natured little charcoal-colored poodle in the world, and looking back on it now I can't believe the way we treated her. I mean, we loved her and played with her and kept her fed and safe and warm, but she never got to sleep in our beds with us (was instead relegated to a covered box full of blankets on the back porch), we didn't celebrate her birthday or give her gifts on holidays, and I don't remember ever taking her to the vet for anything – possibly not even for shots. When we went on vacation she stayed alone in the garage with a giant bowl of dog food and another giant bowl of water. Some neighbor kids were supposed to check on her while we were gone, but I don't know if they ever did.

Still, she never seemed to mind any of this, and she lived to be seventeen years old. My parents had her grandchild, Muffy (the Muff) until just a few years ago. Tater and Muffy spent two summer vacations together when Tater was just a baby, so I like to think that the legacy of the Jeej must have been transmitted, and lives on in the Taterman.

Lately the Jeeps (so many funny dog names!) is starting to have trouble getting up from his bed. Every time something changes with him I wonder: is this just another harmless sign of increasing age, or is this going to be the turning point from old age to rapid decline to the inevitable fresh little grave under the apple trees? I don't know exactly what we're going to do when he finally goes. I don't even like to think about it. But I feel like I kind of have to. We have some very big losses coming up in the next few years, and even though there's nothing we can do to prevent any of them – since nobody lives forever – I do think there must be some things we can do to be getting prepared.

Like giving blood! Recognizing that no life lasts forever, and doing what we can to celebrate and sustain life and health and happiness for as long as we're here, and pass it on to others.

P.S. Here's a great website about living with older dogs: The Senior Dogs Project.