Moon Shadows
on not being who you may think i am, and a journey with a little dog
September 17, 2024 / Full Moon
In the glow of a full moon we cast long nighttime shadows, reflecting a sun that can’t be seen.
My own shadows have been long these days. I’m aware that my writing and way of being in the world might be perceived as shining a light for others, supporting people to navigate through dark times. Yet I’ve been feeling caught in my own darkness lately, in ways that leave me feeling a bit hypocritical, like I’m not the person you might think I am, like I shouldn’t be writing hopeful pieces for others.
There’s a whole section in my book, Work That Matters, about “Making Friends with Uncertainty,” yet I feel utterly incapable right now of resting in a place of not knowing. Most of it revolves around my dear beloved dog, Lucy, who is now somewhere north of 16 years old.
Lucy came into my life almost exactly 15 years ago, in September 2009, a rescue dog who quickly found her way into my heart. For the first few years, she wasn’t just “my” dog (as if you can own a dog, as if…). My partner at the time Gina and I shared in the joy of being her people. Our relationship eventually transformed into a beautiful friendship, and when Gina moved to the Pacific Northwest I continued to be Lucy’s mahout, as I thought of it. Having spent time in Thailand, I had learned about the incredible relationship between elephants and their mahouts – lifelong caretakers of these majestic animals.
Lucy has brought more smiles than I could ever count into my life and everyone who encounters her. She’s small in stature – 17 pounds, barely a foot off the ground with the lowrider chassis of a dachshund in her DNA, likely mixed in with some spunky terrier breed – but she has a huge spirit. It’s the first thing people notice about her, an incredible joie de vivre and a sassy “don’t tell me what to do” attitude.1
Lately that spirit has been waning, as her kidneys are being challenged. Over the years Lucy has had various health bouts, including pancreatitis which she and I, in partnership, healed through dietary changes and her own magic. She has bounced back from various crises – including a pretty serious dog attack this past spring – more times than I could ever imagine. Sometimes I think she has a nine-lives-of-a-cat thing going on. Lucy certainly has other cat-like qualities, including an ability to sit in front of a window quietly for hours, gazing at birds.
This time, though, something feels different. Her usual spark is fading, her appetite is weak, she is drinking tons of water. I try to be creative in what and how I feed her, hoping the spark will return. Sometimes it will for short periods, then it disappears again. This has been going on for a week now, so I’m very aware things could return to ‘normal,’ as they have so many times in the past. I’m not so sure, though. And I find myself confronting her mortality in ways I haven’t before.
The thing that feels so hard for me right now is precisely that “not knowing.” Is this a passing episode, maybe related to a course of antibiotics she was on the week before? Will she be okay once that fully processes through her system? Is there something I should be doing or not doing to help her? Or is her system finally feeling the effects of age, is kidney disease progressing? (And yes, we do have a great vet who can assist with some of this, but even she acknowledges the journey with kidney disease varies greatly from animal to animal, and not everything can be known.)
I am a mess in this “not knowing.” I am not your model meditator, finding equanimity in the midst of this challenge. My nerves are wracked, I’m leaning heavily on friends for emotional support, and I worry that I’m doing something wrong or I’ll make a wrong decision that will make things worse for Lucy. The responsibility of caring for a little one is huge, and it gets even bigger as old age and end-of-life issues take hold.
All I know for sure is that one day Lucy will die. It may be farther off than I’m anticipating, or it could happen sooner than I am expecting. Heck, for all I know she may outlive me. Nothing is a given in this life. My wise friend Gina reminds me that animals don’t carry and hold fear in the same way we do, and I don’t need to worry about Lucy’s amazing capacity to be fully in this process from the intelligence of her beautiful being. The fear in this process is mine and mine alone, and my assignment is to take care of myself and to practice regulating my own emotional world. That doesn’t mean to not feel things, not at all. But to find ways to hold the feelings in the largest container in the world – the truth of Love that’s at the heart of everything.
I really don’t know much at all about this stuff, to be honest. I am feeling my way through, day by day, minute by minute. Meditation helps even though it’s not a magic bullet. Being honest and writing this helps. The kindness of friends helps beyond measure. Words from others who walk this path of love and loss and love, like
, really help. Really appreciating this from Chloe’s most recent essay, “All in the Wings”: 2We were stuck in standstill traffic on the M25 last week. A truck had overturned about a mile up ahead, and so we were forced into the discomfort of mandated stillness. As the air steadily thickened with fumes and irritation, a butterfly appeared, her rhythmic pulse travelling across each lane of traffic as though they were bars of music and she a song. How does a being so light lift the heavy weight of aggrievement with such ease? “It’s all in the wings”, I hear her whisper.
In the meantime I walk with my shadow and feel the moon and sun smiling down on all of us, no matter what the state of our awakening or awareness. We can be a mess, and this beauty is still freely given. That is grace.
And this is Lucy. Who by the way enjoyed a small dish of turkey stew, fresh cooked ground beef, and a probiotic capsule just as I was finishing this piece.
How to appreciate a writer…
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Lucy is quite the muse! If you’d like to read more writing inspired by her rock star personality, check out July With Lucy by Katya Lesher and My Furry Zen Master by moi.
When you write something like this, dear Maia:
“That doesn’t mean to not feel things, not at all. But to find ways to hold the feelings in the largest container in the world – the truth of Love that’s at the heart of everything.”
it offers us, your readers, a chance, a way to see life in a different and better way. Some may never even have thought that way before, and your words may transform their life, who knows? It doesn’t mean you’re a hypocrite because you didn’t tell us about all the times you forgot this truth, or weren’t able to live up to it. You wouldn’t be able to share the sentiment if you didn’t know it in your heart. And knowing it, you write it, because you’re a writer. A writer is not required to confess all of their imperfections. If readers begin to think you are some kind of saint, that is their fault for not remembering that behind every written word is a human being just like them.
Please keep on writing the good stuff, sharing your wisdom and love with others!
Sending lots of love to you and Lucy! ❤️❤️❤️
Hi Maia,
I just put down my beloved dog almost 14 years the other day. it was a difficult decision. not knowing went on for almost 2 weeks. He wouldn’t eat very much even when I offered choice food like chicken and rice or even special treats. he would eat a little here and there, but as time went on his rejection of food increased, He not only didn’t want to run around as much and was sleeping more, there was just a tired look in his face and in his eyes. I felt like it was time to say goodbye. I struggled with should I wait another few days etc. etc. I even made an appointment a week out for a vet to come to the home to put him down. But last Friday morning when he refused all treats and food, and I saw a certain look in his eyes I decided this is it and I took him in. It was a hard decision. I’ve had other dogs and it’s really difficult to know what to do sometimes so I feel your sadness and you’re not knowing. dogs are such beautiful friends. I wish you the best of luck.
Eileen