Corda, lounging on the blanket Daddy bought her for Christmas.
Corda, lounging by the pool with Flat Stanley against her.
I realized that I haven't posted in over a year. I haven't really done any stitching either. That is mainly because my beloved Corda was having more and more health problems. And the stress of those problems wearing even harder on my husband. After a long period of gastro-intestinal problems she was finally diagnosed with megaesophagus. We spent many hours every day holding her vertical to feed her or let her drink because gravity was the only way to get food past the esophagus into her stomach. We held her vertical for at least 30 minutes after each meal and drink. The main problem with this rotten illness is not the regurgitation all over the house. We bought carpet cleaner by the case and I'm sure the paper towel stock must have risen just from our purchases. The main problem aspiration pneumonia. We did everything we could to avoid this, but in the end it defeated us and we lost her.
I don't think I've ever been so heartbroken in my life. When I think back to all the bad things that have happened in my life, none of them hurt as much as this does.
I am, however, starting to crawl out of my well of despair. I had dropped out of my favorite Yahoo group, Stitchmap, months ago. I was getting 200 emails a day from the megaesophagus group and had no time to read anything else. Yesterday, I turned it back on. It's heartening to see emails from those wonderful people who have become such good friends. I'm getting to the point of only crying 2 or 3 times a day instead of 2 or 3 times an hour. It's progress.
We had a lot of names for Corda. Her registered name was Sursum Corda - Latin for live up your hearts. She was Good Girl because she simply never did anything wrong. She was CIA dog because she loved to peer around the corner to spy on us, never realizing her nose preceeded her by several inches. She was the Sentinel when she struck that regal and alert pose that made you think of how she would look watching out for her sheep. She was Mulch Dog when she managed to come into the house with all kinds of leaves, and thistles, and mulch sticking to her fur. But I think her favorite name was mad dog. When a car would go by on her walks she would rear up, bark like crazy, run around in circles, and then look back at us with the biggest grin, satisfied that she scared off the monster and saved us.
I pray she is up in Rainbow Bridge, healthy again, and waiting for us to join her.
