For Tok

[howl4metok]

We learn from our animals--

Animals are not afraid to die, they show us that the end of life can be faced without fear.They teach us to accept death as an opening for love and wonder.

Wow, thanks for sharing that!
It reminded me quite vividly of the night we lost Tok. Of all the members of the pack, Tok was the oldest and also the weakest as a result of years fighting DM. He'd lost weight and often times food didn't always agree with his delicate system. For a few days I'd noticed he was not really eating much and when he did eat he got anxious and usually got sick before settling down. I was concerned, but never expected things to go south so violently.
As it turned out, the food we were using, Diamond maintenance, was contaminated. Tok's reaction was very quick, accelerated because of his condition. The symptoms caused by the food (ie; vomiting, diarreah, etc) combined with his weight loss, made for the perfect environment for his stomach to flip. He bloated.
I knew something wasn't right, I could read Tok like a book and I knew right away something was wrong. Everyone told me I was over-reacting, but still I called every vet I could find in the book at 11pm on a Saturday night. The only one who answered was 20 miles away.
My husband told me that if it would make me feel better, if I was really that worried, to go ahead and take him. Dean stayed home with the pack and the baby. I let Tok out to see if a potty break would help, and he disappeared into the night.
I got a flashlight and looked for him and finally found him on the opposite end of the enclosure, digging a hole. The sight alone terrified me. I paniced. Tok had never done something like this before, he was digging deeper and deeper, like a crazed animal, panting. When his legs gave out he'd collapse into the hole head first, breathe deeply a few breaths, then resume his digging.
The only thing I could think was "Oh my God!, He's digging his own grave!"

Dean helped me get him away from his hole and into the car. as i drove to the vet well over the speed limit, Tok began to whine. That in turn had me in tears. I promised him I'd get him there, that I'd make it better and save him. I still didn't know what was wrong, but I knew he was starting to hurt badly.
Finally I got to the vet, left the car running and ran inside for help. They took Tok in the back for x-rays. As they did I noticed now that during the car ride his abdomen had swollen. I told them that was not right, that something was wrong.
A moment later a vet told me, Tok had bloated. He tried to explain to me what it was, and all I could say was, "how do we fix it, what do I have to do to save him?"
He explained that in Tok's condition, he may not survive surgery, and if he did may never recover. I didn't hear that part, instead I began making phone calls to scrape up the $2000. for his surgery.
They brought Tok to me then, they said they couldn't calm him, he was snapping and crying out. When he saw me he struggled to walk to me and as he always had, he layed his head against my stomach. Finally he quieted. He just stood there, against me, trying to breathe as calm as he could.

That was when I knew he was telling me it was time. I called my husband right then and told him that we had to let him go. I never thought I'd be able to let Tok go, I always swore he'd be allowed a peaceful death at home when the time came, but I just loved him too much to leave him suffer. I had to think of him, not me. Dean said only to kiss him for everyone, and tell him he was loved by all. He made me promise to hold him as he passed, as if it was even a question.

A neat thing about Tok. When I first picked him up when he'd been surrendered by his owners years ago, as isolated and neglected as he'd been, the first thing he did was walk up calmly to greet me. When I knelt to get a good look at this filthy shadow of a dog, he bowed his head and pressed his face against me, like a hug. He stood that way for a long time as I pet him. I was told he'd never done that before, but he did it routinely afterward. That was Tok's trademark, if he really liked you, you got a hug.

I will never forget that. As I told the vet to end Tok's pain, and he prepared the medications, Tok stood face to face, looking at me as if to say "your doing right, Mom, I'm not afraid and it's time to say goodbye.."
As if he knew exactly what was going on, as the vet knelt beside him, Tok "Hugged" me again, one last time, and he continued to hug me until the first injection caused his legs to give out. Then he layed down in my lap and rolled his head to look at me with the last of his strength. I held him close and told him I loved him as he closed his eyes. Then came the second injection. And finally he was gone, no more pain.

I was so hard to let him go, but yet easier to deal with I think, because he showed me he was ready, he asked me to let him go, and he said goodbye as only Tok could. I only wish I'd spared him those 15 minutes I took trying to save him. If only I hadn't been so selfish trying to buy time.

When I got home, with Tok wrapped in a blanket, I found my husband in the kitchen, with Tok's pack. He had collected several pictures of Tok from around the house and set them in a sort of memorial on the table. He was drinking scotch. I told him about how brave and prepared Tok had been, and that he said goodbye to everyone. He actually smiled for a minute.

Tok had been a sort of father to the pack, and even when he grew weak he was still respected and spoiled and pampered by all. We'd heard that pack members often need a chance to greive, to know what happened. That way they don't spend their days searching anxiously for their missing companion.

We brought Tok in, put him on his bed wrapped in his favorite blanket. It was hard to watch Tikaani. She was most affected. She licked at his face to try and wake him. Then she sat next to him and whimpered. Finally she curled up to him and there she stayed for quite a while, until we finally pulled her away. Hours later we buried him.
Tikaani didn't eat for days, and constantly went back to the spot where Tok had been layed. She just layed there, greiving. No playing, no howling.
After a week or so she howled again, but it was a sad howl, I could hardly even bear to listen. The rest of her packmates did not join in on those howls. It was not a call for play or celebration. She was calling to him. They didn't interrupt her.
She's her normal self now, 6 months later, unless Dean or I says Tok's name in conversation. When she hears it she goes searching the house for him, until she finally ends up in his bed cuddling his blanket. It's so profound to see it, to think she still remembers, and still greives. That an animal can love for so long, even after death.
And as for Tok's hole, the deep one he dug that night, I put a board over it, to keep it from filling in. Whatever the reason he dug it like he did, I haven't the heart to fill it up.