Last week, Mr. Magpie took our eight-year-old Airedale terrier, Tilly, to the vet for some routine vaccinations and to inquire after some strange eating habits and behaviors we’d noticed recently. About thirty minutes after he’d left, he sent me a text: “Cancel Tilly’s grooming appointment,” which had been scheduled for the day following (up-to-date vaccines being a pre-requisite for groomings), and I thought: “Not good. Maybe the vet was closed, or couldn’t squeeze her in, or…” I would not fill that blank. Even a catastrophizer like myself knows when to keep the basement door firmly shut.
When I heard our front door open, I walked out onto the landing:
“What’s going on with Tilly?” I asked.
A deep pause followed, and in it, I saw the truth: Tilly is dying.
Mr. Magpie explained that she has tumors on her liver, and that the vet estimated that she has a few months left with us. It has been a strange, somber time, living with what Wendell Berry once described as “the forethought of grief.” In some ways, we feel lucky to have this time to draw her to ourselves, to enjoy her before she is too-soon gone. In other ways, the looseness of the timeline is fraying: is this snuggle my last? I worry each time I leave that she will be dead when I return.
I have noticed myself reaching for guilt, my favorite form of personal torment: how many morning walks have I treated like chores rather than the gift they are? In some ways, I survived those long weeks of pandemic lockdown in New York City because of Tilly. We had to take her out, and those ten minute stretches on the streets of the Upper West Side were often our only contact with the burning outside world. There was also the week during which I was deeply unwell with COVID and she laid on the bed next to me, accommodating my feverishness and moaning, as steady as the weather in the window. Dogs are this way: they receive you in whatever form you arrive. Sick, short-tempered, distracted. Still, Tilly will press her enormous black nose against the window pane by the front door, tail a-wag, as though you are the greatest creature on God’s green earth.
As always, I seek and find small glimmers of good. For one thing, to have had this dog a part of our lives, period. She has seen us through rocky climbs, our stout companion. She has played Puck in our thinnest-lipped moments of stress. Oh, the things you lose in life! But the having makes the pain of parting worth it a million times over.
Another reassuring streak: feeling myself lean on Mr. Magpie, with his open-arms approach to communication, to grief. We have cried together and talked up and down about our heartbreak and wrapped our arms around one another, as close as bark to the tree: no space between.
I also feel heartened by how we have navigated the situation with our children. We wanted them to know, and we decided to approach it as simply and straight-forwardly as possible, no euphemisms on the docket. Over breakfast on the weekend (strategically not when exhausted from a day of school), we sat down with them, and Mr. Magpie said: “Tilly is very sick. She’s going to die. We don’t know when, but soon. We can use this time to show her lots of love.” I shed a tear — something I’d not thought I would — but I also explained: “It is OK to cry. It is OK to express how you feel.” And then we answered their litany of questions, which ranged from: “Can we get a puppy?” to “Why is she dying of cancer, when my teacher had it and is still alive?” and “Can Tilly die at home so I can watch her float up into heaven?” This last one from my four-year-old son, a reminder of the clover sweetness of youth. Later, he climbed onto my lap, and said: “My head feels sad for Tilly,” and I told him “So does mine, and it’s OK to feel sad. It just means we love her, and it reminds us of how lucky we are to have her.” We have had a lot of meandering conversations about death and specifically how the soul leaves the body since, and I find myself relieved each time I am able to normalize his feelings. It has occurred to me many times that this is an important modeling moment: their first brush with death.
One final lamp that’s lit the gray skies: the wise and generous things our friends have said. How did I get so lucky? These people know how to console, and I will be borrowing their sentiments should I ever need to comfort a friend in a similar situation. Some of the most powerful:
“I completely understand. A dog is a family member.”
“We know how hard this is. Tilly’s been on my mind all day.”
“She’s a lucky dog to have lived such a full and joyful life with the Shoops.”
“Isn’t it an amazing privilege to help these animals exit? Geez they teach us so much.”
And from our vet: “We support you in this and are going to make it as painless as possible for Tilly.”
The goodness of people! You open the door and there they are, with the right words at the right time.
We do not how much longer we’ll have Tilly around, so instead we are taking things day by day, focusing on what we can control: making her feel loved and comfortable. She likes to lay on the rug of my writing studio while I peck at my computer, and I savor her company, taking ample breaks to pet her, thinking always: these are the good ol days; let me press them to my heart.
Post-Scripts.
+Life takes root around the perimeter.
+In case you need to hear it today: you are enough.
+You can sign up for my Magpie newsletter here — I send out a Magpie Digest each Friday with the week’s highlights (quotes, comments, finds) and a Magpie Diary with loose and roaming thoughts each Sunday.
Shopping Break.
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+J. Crew released an answer to the $850 High Sport pants that have been informally dubbed “the newsletter pants” because so many fashion writers with their own Substacks have been raving about them. Chic chic! My Donnis are another contender for this silhouette.
+I own and ADORE my Frances dress from Emerson Fry, and I cannot get over how chic this new color/pattern is! Runs TTS. Also love this blouse from their latest collection.
+Everything from Mira Mikati puts such a big smile on my face. The definition of chasing rainbows!
+Ordered a few new office supplies: these white out pens, these highlighters, and these dotted pads. More of my favorite gear for creative workspaces here.
+Have heard such good things about this undereye product from Trish McEvoy — finally going to test it myself!
+So many of you are urging me to jump on the Dyson AirWrap wagon! I’m committed. I’m setting it as a reward if I hit a personal goal this month. One of you mentioned this organizer is very handy for stowing all the parts. I will say I have been using and really loving the T3 Airebrush. It’s very similar to the Revlon but I’m actually able to achieve more volume — it’s higher-powered, and I think my hair looks shinier afterward, too? I find I’m better able to keep tension in my hair strands while using it.
+Cutest lounge pants. Matching sweatshirt available, too.
+For my expecting mamas: Addison Bay just launched a maternity collection!
+And for my fellow petites: an entire denim brand dedicated to women under 5’4. My fellow petite friend, Chrissy Ward, has been raving about this pair of ecru jeans for us shorties.
+Can’t get over this striped dress. So chic!
+Eyeing these for my children’s tennis camps this summer.
+Ordered this little gel pen set for my daughter.
+How FUN are these rope sandals?!