My mom had borderline personality disorder and she physically and mentally abused my brother and me from the time we were tiny children. My most vivid childhood memories involve being terrified of her. She also had a serious eating disorder that lasted her whole life. I know her disorder contributed to my own. Her favorite saying was, "You can never be too rich or too thin," and she honestly believed that. Even in her later years, she constantly talked about how she didn't want to get fat and she prided herself on only eating a piece of toast at breakfast and a small dinner.
When she died, her death certificate listed the cause of death as "inanition." I had to look it up. It means the most extreme form of malnutrition. I guess she finally achieved being thin enough.
Fortunately, I had the means in the last 30 years to go through tons of therapy and I was able to come to grips (for the most part) with my childhood, my PTSD and my anorexia, bulimia, and body dysmorphic disorder. I came to understand that my mom was not a bad person. Rather she grew up in a very dysfunctional household herself (abandoned by an abusive, alcoholic father after which she was farmed out to another relative because her mother could not care for all the children). When she had her own children, she did the best she could. I have to believe that, for my own sanity. For the most part, I've been able to let go of the anger I felt toward her for the majority of my adult life. I forgave her for what she did to me.
Deep down I loved my mom and I know she loved me. I thank heavens that she passed away before Covid19 invaded our everyday lives and they started to limit visitors, even family, into the elder care facilities. I can’t imagine not being able to be with her in the days before she passed.
Now...about my mom's dogs Bonnie and Jennie
When we moved my mom into the Assisted Living Facility 4 years ago for her safety, my husband and I took over her 2 dogs Bonnie and Jennie. It was the only way we could get her to move, by promising to care for them. But for 4 years, I still referred to them as my mother's dogs. For 4 years, my mother would lash out in anger at me that I had ruined her life. She would accuse me of stealing her dogs from her. Whenever I took them to visit her, she would tell everyone that they were HER dogs. So it was hard to bond with Bonnie and Jennie under those circumstances. For 4 years, although I cared for them, I always emotionally kept them at arms length. When people would call me their mom, I'd say "I'm not those dogs' mom. I'm just their caretaker." Yes, they bonded with me, as dogs will do with the person who cares for them day to day. But I wasn't going to give them my heart, because they weren't my dogs.
Then Bonnie died unexpectedly on Wednesday.
We had just spent the weekend at the ocean, and that dog ran like the wind on the beach! She and Jennie had such a great time.
But she started to get sick on Tuesday evening, and I took her to her regular vet on Wednesday morning. There were indications that her gallbladder was inflamed, so they had me take her to a specialty vet for possible surgery. Unfortunately, tests showed that the gallbladder issue had also caused major damage to her other organs. It was doubtful that she would recover from surgery, so the most humane thing to do was to let her go.
Because of Covid19, they were limiting people coming into the vets office. They would come out to the car to pick up the animals, and then they were doing everything else by phone. So that's how we got the bad diagnosis. After I discussed the situation with my husband, I called back to inform the doctor of our decision. Then I asked if we could come inside to say goodbye to her in spite of the restrictions. The doctor said, of course they make an exception in these cases. So my husband and I went inside into an exam room and they brought her to us. She was obviously drugged up with pain medication, but she perked up a bit when she saw us. I think she knew us. Sobbing, I held her for a few minutes, we both petted her and told her what a good girl she was. Then I kissed her head and told her I loved her, after that they took her away.
My husband said that he thought my mother called Bonnie to be with her. I'm not sure I agree, but it's a nice thought. Meanwhile, I still didn't think I was that attached to Bonnie because technically she really wasn't my dog.
Good grief. How can you have a complicated relationship with a dog??? But when I said goodbye and told her I loved her, I realized afterwards that I really meant it. Otherwise, why say that to a dog?
And I'm surprised now at hard it was to say goodbye, and how upset I am now and how much I miss her now. Yeah, complicated.
Anyway, now we just have Jennie, and I intend to love her as hard as I can. Because she's MY DOG now. It took losing Bonnie to realize that it's okay to love Jennie.
