Ruslan was my first dog.
Not the first dog that was ever in my life.
Not even the first dog that I bought. When I was with Adrian we bought a Border Collie whom I named Rodriguez. He lasted with us two days. I had an allergic reaction on the first. That was an expensive mistake.
Technically, Ruslan was not even my dog. I never wanted a dog of my own. For my parents and during my childhood, great! But for myself in my adult life? No. No interest. They interrupt a social life and I had enough problems looking after myself properly. Work, eating, sleeping. No, I did not need another life to worry about.
So, when Peter turned up one afternoon after work with 3 Maltese dogs, I was seriously less than pleased. Bonnie was pregnant. The other two were noisy. Really noisy. I was worried how the neighbours were going to react to having the additional noise coming from my back yard.
I soon found out how one of the would react. I have never found out which one, but the message was clear from wherever it did come. Coming home after an afternoon playing Volleyball in the city, Bonnie was bounding about at the back door. The other two nowhere to be seen. Until, we opened the back door and saw the other two, motionless and lifeless near the clothesline. It was both distressing and infuriating. The police and RSPCA were of no assistance; I was meant to keep them in the freezer and wait for someone later in the week. I had to tell them who did it or their hands were tied. I now had not only received the gift of three dogs that I had explicitly forbidden; I now had to bury two of them 24 hours later. Over the following months, I discovered that the same thing had happened to many of the neighbours- brand new dog, that lasted up to a week. Nothing anybody could do. Hope karma has bitten that person firmly in the ass by now!
So, Bonnie had to go back to Peter's family house, from where she had come. I didn't want a pet inside. And no way did I want to ever come home to another body out the back.
So, back to just us.
Momentarily.
I can not actually remember if the Sydney 2000 Olympics were on or finished when Ruslan first came into my life. Based on what I believe his birthday to be, I would have to presume that they were over. But I was ever so slightly obsessed with the Russian gymnasts either way. When Peter rolled in with 4 little babies, unable to stay at his parents place, I watched their twists and turns and rolls, and as well as falling in love, I named them all with Russian names: Alexei, Viktor, Nemov and Ruslan.
Why did Ruslan convince me I needed a dog? Why didn't the other 3? Or did they? How did I know that I would not end up allergic to another one? So many questions... I don't know the answers now. It is twelve years ago. There was no blogging and my memories have all mixed together now.
Ruslan couldn't go outside during the day, whilst I was at work. I could not risk.
Ruslan had to be monitored when he was out the back, as there was a paling missing from the fence, just large enough for him to sneak through.
Ruslan, maddeningly, used to urinate in any plastic bags that happened to be on the floor. Generally, if plastic bags were on the floor, there were things inside them. Yuk.
Ruslan was an absolute sook, afraid of everything. If he wasn't running away just because it seemed fun, he was running away because some strange or different noise had terrified him.
I have some great memories of my little baby. We used to go jogging around the lake at Glenmore Park. He was usually less puffed out than I was. He loved the car, the walks, visits to my parents.
I often came home from work and found him sitting in the middle of the dining table. If he needed to go to toilet while I was at work, and there was no plastic bag, he would walk into the bathroom and aim beautifully into the plug hole on the floor. He was so strange.
Back in the days at Glenmore Park, I was very easily distracted. Rus spent a lot of time occupying himself while I stared intently at a computer screen or the television. We had time together, but I know I could have done better.
I did worse. My dream had been to live and work in London, and in early 2004 that was the dream I was set to realise. But what of Ruslan. I briefly flirted with the idea of taking him too. But thinking of all of the quarantine issues, it did not seem worthwhile. Mum and Dad, who of course now had their dear little Cody, did not want to take on a second responsibility. Eventually, Peter's family agreed to look after Ruslan in our absence.
Look after is a very loose interpretation of what happened. Yes, they fed him. Yes, he stayed alive. But when we returned after 8 months away, my ambition achieved, we did not see the same dog. In fact, we were not completely sure that we even took the right dog away with us. Mum didn't think it was Ruslan either. He was dirty and so skinny. He was unresponsive and sad.
But he came back to us.
I was staying back with my parents at this point. I was not sure what was going on with Peter. He moved to Albury for some time and I was honestly quite happy to be back at the family home. Ruslan and Cody got to hang together and they became very close. Which is normal. Through 2005, we were all there together. Ruslan recovered from his back yard time and became a happy indoor dog again. He was terrified of everything still. Mowers, whipper snipper and most amusingly, the ironing board. Mum suggested I had hit him with an ironing board in the past. Which I did not do. Most likely the ironing board had fallen over at some point in the past, while I was at work. And he did not trust it to never happen again.
Late in 2005, I moved back out. Peter moved into his house so I went back as well. Cody and Ruslan had been together too long by now, it would have been unfair to separate them again. So, once again I left him behind.
Not for too long though. By October 2006, I was back at my family home. Depressed and not sure how to move on. Rus and I reconnected properly at this point. Somewhere up there, he must have remembered I was there back at the beginning and here I was again. He forgot all the times I had not completely been the best owner in the world.
I would hope that the second half of Ruslan's life was full of happiness. He had Cody. He had my parents who adored him. And he had me back as well. Ruslan was not an overaffectionate dog. He got what he needed from people and then went back to being solitary. It was his way. However, he chose who he was going to love and he couldn't be bothered with you if he didn't think you were worth his time. I thought about it this morning: Cody has been loved by many people who have met him. He runs and gives kisses and spreads love. But it is a selfish thing. He sees a new person and gets what he needs from them. That is what dogs do. But Ruslan was different. Ruslan decided who was getting his love. I got upset that people didn't love Ruslan as much as Cody. But I understand why now. He had to choose you.
Ruslan had terrible breath. Not just dog breath. It was awful. He constantly had rotten teeth and was almost all gums in the last few years. On two occasions, he developed a situation inside his mouth where all the glands were blocked and his face swelled up. On the second occasion some of his glands were removed. But besides this, he remained fairly healthy, active and well.
After dinner, every night, there was a routine. I would finish eating and place my cutlery on the plate. On cue, Ruslan would appear from nowhere and leap from the floor onto my lap. He would stay there for as long as I would allow. He never asked for permission. Nan used to complain that he would just leap onto her when she was sitting on the lounge. That was his love for you. Love asks no questions. For most of the time that he was around, Ruslan would charge to be with Ty as soon as he walked in the door. Wednesday morning, once my decision had been made and I left them together for a few minutes while I showered, I saw Ty cry for the first time. He knew Ruslan's love too.
I can not remember which trip it was, perhaps January when I went to Romania; mum was speaking to me and mentioned that Ruslan had sat outside my bedroom door since I left. He would not leave. I had to speak to him through the phone to get him to go and eat. He kept a vigil outside my room every time I went on holidays. I wish I had one iota of the same faithfulness and love that that boy gave to me. He was so much more beautiful that I think I deserved. Especially after I deserted him more than once. I hope I made up for it in the second half of his life.
Two weeks ago, I lifted Ruslan to give him a hug. He yelped with pain and jumped off my bed. Upon hitting the ground, he screamed again. He had a slight limp, but that seemed to fade again for a few days. By Friday, however, he was having difficulty climbing the steps. If I look back and think more closely, I realise he had had trouble climbing the steps for some time but I took it as age. By Saturday, Ruslan was having such trouble walking. He could not put any weight on his back left leg. When it continued onto Sunday, I realised that this was not a little pain that was sorting itself out quickly.
I took Rus to the vet on Monday afternoon. I mentioned that I had found a strange lump on his leg when I had given him a haircut on Sunday. The vet touched it and I knew what her face meant, even though her words were positive. More tests were required and Ruslan had an injection of sedatives.
Tuesday I received the horrible news. The X Ray showed the true horror of what Ruslan had been through for who knows how long. All the random yelps and squeals, when we thought we had just picked him up wrong, we had been disrupting the cancer that by now had overtaken him. That had spread up his knee and leg, twisting around his organs, arteries and veins. Of course you will have to operate on him, I said, whatever has to happen.
"That is not the question you need to think about," replied the vet.
I figured I had time to think about it.
But by 8 pm that evening I knew that I had no time to think. In fact, there was nothing to think about. The constant whines and yelps brought me to tears. He spat out his first pain tablet and Cody ate it. Of course! So... bugger it... I knew what had to happen. I overmedicated him. Anything to make the pain less. He slept for half an hour, before the pain woke him up. He could not lie down, he could not stay still. The only thing that calmed him was me patting him on his cancer stricken, agonisingly painful leg. It probably didn't make any difference to the pain. It was just that I was there for him.
At 3 in the morning, I rang Ty and asked him to come over. I got up and took him back to the lounge. I rocked him for an hour. Then we tried to go back to bed for a bit. He slept again for half an hour, lying on my stomach. I cried. At one point, he slipped off my stomach and yelped once more. Cody, known for not being very sympathetic to Rus' pain, just moaned and wailed in sympathy. There seemed to be shared understanding that this was it.
The rest of the story is just upsetting. And I have said it before. I am continuing to find it very difficult to cope. Or even to start looking after myself.
Fresh from getting the all clear from cancer, my mother was enjoying a trip to America with my father. I have to presume I brought that trip completely down with the news. But I had to let them know before I said goodbye to him. They didn't want to speak down the phone to him. Ty didn't want to see him before the end either. But when I called, distraught, at 3 in the morning, he came through. He told me today that he did it for me and not for Ruslan. That is logical. But honestly, he did it in part for Ruslan. Because when he chose you, he stole your heart. Although it apparently mends, he took part of mine away with him.
I don't know what I feel about heaven. I don't know how to visualise it. I don't even know whether I can completely believe in it. I just know that I have a long, long time on Earth before I can see my Ruslan again. And I don't know how I am possibly able to start down the road without him.
Some people have said that the healing begins when you get another dog. But I have another dog here. I love Cody. He is gorgeous. But he is not Ruslan. No dog will ever be Ruslan. And I don't believe that I could willingly put myself through the past week ever again.
Harder still, my parents are away during this time. It has been doubly painful; at some point, who knows when but inevitably it will occur; at some point, I will be sitting here along again because it IS my parents I am saying goodbye to. If this one hurts so much, how do I get through that one!
I have had supportive and lovely words from so many people. So many people that have been through the same thing. Through worse. Loss of parents. Loss of children. Loss of partners. People with more reason to be sad that I do. But grief is an individual thing. And I am not ashamed to say that I am not strong. I never have been. Will I ever be?
Ruslan never judged my faults. He did hold a grudge, but he forgave eventually. Ruslan never told me I was fat, ugly, hard to deal with. I was hard to deal with. I still am. But to him I was just "dad".
So Happy Father's Day to me.
You were perfect, my beautiful boy.
I love you. But there is no way that I could give you as much love as you gave me. So I thank you and I regret that our story can not continue.
Not the first dog that was ever in my life.
Not even the first dog that I bought. When I was with Adrian we bought a Border Collie whom I named Rodriguez. He lasted with us two days. I had an allergic reaction on the first. That was an expensive mistake.
Technically, Ruslan was not even my dog. I never wanted a dog of my own. For my parents and during my childhood, great! But for myself in my adult life? No. No interest. They interrupt a social life and I had enough problems looking after myself properly. Work, eating, sleeping. No, I did not need another life to worry about.
So, when Peter turned up one afternoon after work with 3 Maltese dogs, I was seriously less than pleased. Bonnie was pregnant. The other two were noisy. Really noisy. I was worried how the neighbours were going to react to having the additional noise coming from my back yard.
I soon found out how one of the would react. I have never found out which one, but the message was clear from wherever it did come. Coming home after an afternoon playing Volleyball in the city, Bonnie was bounding about at the back door. The other two nowhere to be seen. Until, we opened the back door and saw the other two, motionless and lifeless near the clothesline. It was both distressing and infuriating. The police and RSPCA were of no assistance; I was meant to keep them in the freezer and wait for someone later in the week. I had to tell them who did it or their hands were tied. I now had not only received the gift of three dogs that I had explicitly forbidden; I now had to bury two of them 24 hours later. Over the following months, I discovered that the same thing had happened to many of the neighbours- brand new dog, that lasted up to a week. Nothing anybody could do. Hope karma has bitten that person firmly in the ass by now!
So, Bonnie had to go back to Peter's family house, from where she had come. I didn't want a pet inside. And no way did I want to ever come home to another body out the back.
So, back to just us.
Momentarily.
I can not actually remember if the Sydney 2000 Olympics were on or finished when Ruslan first came into my life. Based on what I believe his birthday to be, I would have to presume that they were over. But I was ever so slightly obsessed with the Russian gymnasts either way. When Peter rolled in with 4 little babies, unable to stay at his parents place, I watched their twists and turns and rolls, and as well as falling in love, I named them all with Russian names: Alexei, Viktor, Nemov and Ruslan.
Why did Ruslan convince me I needed a dog? Why didn't the other 3? Or did they? How did I know that I would not end up allergic to another one? So many questions... I don't know the answers now. It is twelve years ago. There was no blogging and my memories have all mixed together now.
Ruslan couldn't go outside during the day, whilst I was at work. I could not risk.
Ruslan had to be monitored when he was out the back, as there was a paling missing from the fence, just large enough for him to sneak through.
Ruslan, maddeningly, used to urinate in any plastic bags that happened to be on the floor. Generally, if plastic bags were on the floor, there were things inside them. Yuk.
Ruslan was an absolute sook, afraid of everything. If he wasn't running away just because it seemed fun, he was running away because some strange or different noise had terrified him.
I have some great memories of my little baby. We used to go jogging around the lake at Glenmore Park. He was usually less puffed out than I was. He loved the car, the walks, visits to my parents.
I often came home from work and found him sitting in the middle of the dining table. If he needed to go to toilet while I was at work, and there was no plastic bag, he would walk into the bathroom and aim beautifully into the plug hole on the floor. He was so strange.
Back in the days at Glenmore Park, I was very easily distracted. Rus spent a lot of time occupying himself while I stared intently at a computer screen or the television. We had time together, but I know I could have done better.
I did worse. My dream had been to live and work in London, and in early 2004 that was the dream I was set to realise. But what of Ruslan. I briefly flirted with the idea of taking him too. But thinking of all of the quarantine issues, it did not seem worthwhile. Mum and Dad, who of course now had their dear little Cody, did not want to take on a second responsibility. Eventually, Peter's family agreed to look after Ruslan in our absence.
Look after is a very loose interpretation of what happened. Yes, they fed him. Yes, he stayed alive. But when we returned after 8 months away, my ambition achieved, we did not see the same dog. In fact, we were not completely sure that we even took the right dog away with us. Mum didn't think it was Ruslan either. He was dirty and so skinny. He was unresponsive and sad.
But he came back to us.
I was staying back with my parents at this point. I was not sure what was going on with Peter. He moved to Albury for some time and I was honestly quite happy to be back at the family home. Ruslan and Cody got to hang together and they became very close. Which is normal. Through 2005, we were all there together. Ruslan recovered from his back yard time and became a happy indoor dog again. He was terrified of everything still. Mowers, whipper snipper and most amusingly, the ironing board. Mum suggested I had hit him with an ironing board in the past. Which I did not do. Most likely the ironing board had fallen over at some point in the past, while I was at work. And he did not trust it to never happen again.
Late in 2005, I moved back out. Peter moved into his house so I went back as well. Cody and Ruslan had been together too long by now, it would have been unfair to separate them again. So, once again I left him behind.
Not for too long though. By October 2006, I was back at my family home. Depressed and not sure how to move on. Rus and I reconnected properly at this point. Somewhere up there, he must have remembered I was there back at the beginning and here I was again. He forgot all the times I had not completely been the best owner in the world.
I would hope that the second half of Ruslan's life was full of happiness. He had Cody. He had my parents who adored him. And he had me back as well. Ruslan was not an overaffectionate dog. He got what he needed from people and then went back to being solitary. It was his way. However, he chose who he was going to love and he couldn't be bothered with you if he didn't think you were worth his time. I thought about it this morning: Cody has been loved by many people who have met him. He runs and gives kisses and spreads love. But it is a selfish thing. He sees a new person and gets what he needs from them. That is what dogs do. But Ruslan was different. Ruslan decided who was getting his love. I got upset that people didn't love Ruslan as much as Cody. But I understand why now. He had to choose you.
Ruslan had terrible breath. Not just dog breath. It was awful. He constantly had rotten teeth and was almost all gums in the last few years. On two occasions, he developed a situation inside his mouth where all the glands were blocked and his face swelled up. On the second occasion some of his glands were removed. But besides this, he remained fairly healthy, active and well.
After dinner, every night, there was a routine. I would finish eating and place my cutlery on the plate. On cue, Ruslan would appear from nowhere and leap from the floor onto my lap. He would stay there for as long as I would allow. He never asked for permission. Nan used to complain that he would just leap onto her when she was sitting on the lounge. That was his love for you. Love asks no questions. For most of the time that he was around, Ruslan would charge to be with Ty as soon as he walked in the door. Wednesday morning, once my decision had been made and I left them together for a few minutes while I showered, I saw Ty cry for the first time. He knew Ruslan's love too.
I can not remember which trip it was, perhaps January when I went to Romania; mum was speaking to me and mentioned that Ruslan had sat outside my bedroom door since I left. He would not leave. I had to speak to him through the phone to get him to go and eat. He kept a vigil outside my room every time I went on holidays. I wish I had one iota of the same faithfulness and love that that boy gave to me. He was so much more beautiful that I think I deserved. Especially after I deserted him more than once. I hope I made up for it in the second half of his life.
Two weeks ago, I lifted Ruslan to give him a hug. He yelped with pain and jumped off my bed. Upon hitting the ground, he screamed again. He had a slight limp, but that seemed to fade again for a few days. By Friday, however, he was having difficulty climbing the steps. If I look back and think more closely, I realise he had had trouble climbing the steps for some time but I took it as age. By Saturday, Ruslan was having such trouble walking. He could not put any weight on his back left leg. When it continued onto Sunday, I realised that this was not a little pain that was sorting itself out quickly.
I took Rus to the vet on Monday afternoon. I mentioned that I had found a strange lump on his leg when I had given him a haircut on Sunday. The vet touched it and I knew what her face meant, even though her words were positive. More tests were required and Ruslan had an injection of sedatives.
Tuesday I received the horrible news. The X Ray showed the true horror of what Ruslan had been through for who knows how long. All the random yelps and squeals, when we thought we had just picked him up wrong, we had been disrupting the cancer that by now had overtaken him. That had spread up his knee and leg, twisting around his organs, arteries and veins. Of course you will have to operate on him, I said, whatever has to happen.
"That is not the question you need to think about," replied the vet.
I figured I had time to think about it.
But by 8 pm that evening I knew that I had no time to think. In fact, there was nothing to think about. The constant whines and yelps brought me to tears. He spat out his first pain tablet and Cody ate it. Of course! So... bugger it... I knew what had to happen. I overmedicated him. Anything to make the pain less. He slept for half an hour, before the pain woke him up. He could not lie down, he could not stay still. The only thing that calmed him was me patting him on his cancer stricken, agonisingly painful leg. It probably didn't make any difference to the pain. It was just that I was there for him.
At 3 in the morning, I rang Ty and asked him to come over. I got up and took him back to the lounge. I rocked him for an hour. Then we tried to go back to bed for a bit. He slept again for half an hour, lying on my stomach. I cried. At one point, he slipped off my stomach and yelped once more. Cody, known for not being very sympathetic to Rus' pain, just moaned and wailed in sympathy. There seemed to be shared understanding that this was it.
The rest of the story is just upsetting. And I have said it before. I am continuing to find it very difficult to cope. Or even to start looking after myself.
Fresh from getting the all clear from cancer, my mother was enjoying a trip to America with my father. I have to presume I brought that trip completely down with the news. But I had to let them know before I said goodbye to him. They didn't want to speak down the phone to him. Ty didn't want to see him before the end either. But when I called, distraught, at 3 in the morning, he came through. He told me today that he did it for me and not for Ruslan. That is logical. But honestly, he did it in part for Ruslan. Because when he chose you, he stole your heart. Although it apparently mends, he took part of mine away with him.
I don't know what I feel about heaven. I don't know how to visualise it. I don't even know whether I can completely believe in it. I just know that I have a long, long time on Earth before I can see my Ruslan again. And I don't know how I am possibly able to start down the road without him.
Some people have said that the healing begins when you get another dog. But I have another dog here. I love Cody. He is gorgeous. But he is not Ruslan. No dog will ever be Ruslan. And I don't believe that I could willingly put myself through the past week ever again.
Harder still, my parents are away during this time. It has been doubly painful; at some point, who knows when but inevitably it will occur; at some point, I will be sitting here along again because it IS my parents I am saying goodbye to. If this one hurts so much, how do I get through that one!
I have had supportive and lovely words from so many people. So many people that have been through the same thing. Through worse. Loss of parents. Loss of children. Loss of partners. People with more reason to be sad that I do. But grief is an individual thing. And I am not ashamed to say that I am not strong. I never have been. Will I ever be?
Ruslan never judged my faults. He did hold a grudge, but he forgave eventually. Ruslan never told me I was fat, ugly, hard to deal with. I was hard to deal with. I still am. But to him I was just "dad".
So Happy Father's Day to me.
You were perfect, my beautiful boy.
I love you. But there is no way that I could give you as much love as you gave me. So I thank you and I regret that our story can not continue.
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