In the end,
Mobius 2006 - 2020
I don’t know where to start.
How do you convey a story
That goes on forever?
(L to R) Wacha, Cutie, Banzo the Brave, Mookie, Dusty, Roo, Didi and Mobius
Mobius was an original.
Who am I kidding? Moby was the original.
We never even had a family without our family dog.
Always there for us
Before we were engaged, Moby was our first commitment. She was there, in the house in which Gavi was born, and in the house, next to the three of us, when Gavi parted. In between, she helped Gavi through the best and the worst: occupational therapy, snuggling and baby Didi on one hand; seizures, cerebral palsy, cortical visual impairment and unrelenting respiratory infections, on the other. She accompanied little Didi as we moved to a home we renovated to accommodate the equipment we no longer needed. She provided continuity through his two years as an only child. When Roo came along, she gave baby brother someone he could learn to care for, even as she watched over him.
She’s survived by four humans and two chickens. Our chicken family isn’t what it once was either, through no fault of Mobius. Despite the best efforts of Banzo the Brave, we lost Wacha and Cutie to predators, and eventually Banzo followed them across that rainbow chicken ladder. Last fall, I thought Dusty was mortally wounded by a Red Tailed Hawk, but she miraculously recovered. We’re still waiting for her to get back to laying eggs. Mookie lays enough for the both of them.
Resting peacefully
Moby is our family. When a dog is literally a part of your entire family history, how can you process everything in between the beginning and the end? I guess that’s where my mind will be traveling, making the connections to each one of us, come and gone. For now, I’ll share what I can about the end.
Even when you see the decline, and you know the crossroads is imminent, sometimes you’re still surprised when you find yourself there. Moby left me little doubt. My veterinarian’s office is closed Sundays, so my wife tracked down an animal hospice organization we’re fortunate enough to be able to afford (helps to be unionized). They sent one of the most compassionate vets right to our home. After a whole-family discussion and a full assessment, she surprised us by making it down the stairs with a little assist. Moby slowly poked around the neighbors front yards, sniffing here and there before collapsing again. In more subtle ways, she had warned me this was coming. Our eyes met again. We knew we had made our peace.
We took our bittersweet time making sure we had processed the situation, all of us, boys included. Didi had lots of technical and emotional questions, about fear, and pain, and how long it will take. Little Roo geared up with personal protective equipment, his orange soccer socks pulled up to his thighs, his rainboots, winter jacket, ear protectors and of course his pacifier. My beloved wife laid out a blanket in a corner of the yard and I carried Moby there. I handed Didi a spoon of peanut butter and Roo, a Heartgard. Both treats were upstaged by the Hostess Ding Dong the vet supplied.
Tidal flow
I let the boys know about the first pet I accompanied to their final vet visit, as a young man, and how hard it was for me to imagine a kid in that same situation. We asked the boys to choose what they were ready for. Didi, who already lived through his big sister's funeral, answered me with his body language, so I explained, "There's no right way to say goodbye, but plenty of wrong ways. Trust yourself and don't stay or go for anybody else but you. Moby knows how much you love her." He gave her another lick of peanut butter and headed inside. Little Roo, on the other hand, had prepared himself and always gets the most comfort out of comforting us.
Choosing the last song to sing to your pup isn't much easier than the choice my boys made. Will the Circle Be Unbroken was just too much for me, so I tried to pick something safer. Still, I couldn't make it through Blowin in the Wind without swallowing a few words, so my wife joined in. By the time I finished crying, I noticed that the full moon had risen, a reminder not to second-guess myself so much. When I got inside, Yadid was looking out the east window. But of course, I'm not finished crying.
The boys are tucked in bed now, sound asleep. Singing them a half dozen bedtime songs and still getting requests helped, especially when Didi joined in on Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa (Sad Song). I thought he had gotten tired of that song years ago. Maybe tonight I sang it a little better.
Here is the tape that holds this together. I’ll finish this epitaph where I started writing, since I began it where I finished.
I'm in sorry shape for writing this minute, but maybe scribbling my thoughts here will help. Moby really lived up to her full name as a pup, Mobius, chasing figure eights to infinity at warp speed. Tonight, she finally had her first taste of chocolate cake. It's too fresh for me to wrangle the memories into any shape, so let me ask a little favor. Find a strip of colored paper and a piece of tape. Wrap that paper around with a single twist and press the tape firmly where the ends meet. Mobius, to infinity.
