Normally I don't get weepy much after surgery, but I have found myself feeling blue several times this go 'round. I think it is because I don't have Zeus here to hang out with me all day. He was always with me (post-op or not) when he was alive, and tagged along wherever I went in the house. (Or outside, for that matter.)
I could lie in bed and lean over the side, reaching my hand out, and he would lift his head to be petted and to give me a lick or two. If I were on the couch, he'd be stretched out nearby, happy to just be with me. Run to the kitchen, and he was right on your heels. And so on. Always, always, Zeus was with me, night and day.
So, to come home, have Craig at work all day, and just be home by myself as I recover has been... different. It's too quiet, no one needs my attention, care, or love, and there is no one to talk to. (Zeus was a great listener.)
My friend, Pam, sent me an email yesterday, and she mentioned Zeus.
Glad you are doing well. Would you like me to come over and pamper you a day or two next week? I do pedicures, pick up meals, gossip (oh, I mean chat). You name it. I bet you really miss Zeus this recovery. He's probably looking down on you, whining at the pearly gates wanting to come be by your bedside. Good old Zeus.
When I read what she wrote about him, wanting to be with me, I had this image of him leaning through those gates, yearning to come to my side when I needed him, and distressed because he could not. And I feel a mutual yearning - he may have been a dog, but he was family and I still miss him terribly, six months later.
When those doggie blues hit me again, I think I will remember December's surgery and times like this:
Who knows, maybe I'll hear the thump of his tail, at least in my mind, or a rush of air that sounds like his breath. And that will make me smile and feel a bit less Zeus-lonely.
He was some dog, that's for sure.
