Hims is a Very Good Boy

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Ike Fyfe, surveying his new kingdom

Remember that thing we did a week and a half ago?

The whole bringing-a-new-dog-into-the-house-again thing?

Turns out its going well. Ike hasn’t eaten a cat or a ferret (he doesn’t get to play with the ferrets but he sure is curious) and despite two indoor piddles on tiled floor we still love him.

His worst crime is when he stands on either of Alistair’s Covid toes which remain swollen, tender and red and are finally being recognized by the CDC as a ‘long hauler’ symptom. But Ike doesn’t know that (although he does sniff those particular toes from time to time.)

“Hims just wants to say hi to the little creature, Mum!”

Once his new dad took his E-collar off he’s never needed it back on. He hasn’t once tried to lick or scratch at the staples and everyone is just happier without him slamming into things/us or tearing the collar apart.

Learning new routines and trying to placate stressed-out senior cats wasn’t my only occupation last week. I also took a big new listing on a super cool log home here in town and I’m hoping to grab another equally cool one this coming week. All with 2 trips to Deer Lodge to be a veterinarian one day and to start getting vaccinated for Covid19 yesterday!

SUPES excited right after the vaccine!

Our clinic owner asked who wanted to get the vaccine ball rolling and they set it up for yesterday at a grocery store pharmacy. Sure, it meant another 3 hours on the road and a day away from Alistair but we both were totally pumped that veterinarians and their teams are now able to do this.

Because this is science. And this is part of the solution. Wearing my mask and social distancing are also parts of the solution so lets keep on keeping on with those things, too!

I stayed at home a ton last year. For me. For you. For your grandma. For your kid who has asthma. For your dad who is battling cancer. And even though I’m one dose in on the Moderna vaccine schedule I’m still going to stay home when I can and avoid large gatherings if possible while wearing a mask and standing away from you.

CFVC team members getting their dose yesterday! Go, team!!!!!

And I didn’t miss out on one more day with the hubs because we got discussing my upcoming week (Deer Lodge clinic, checking out the potential new listing, celebrating a new real estate office’s opening in Hamilton and a floor day at the office,) and the fact he was going back to ND today to cover this week for a colleague anyhow and we decided that life would be easier on everyone if he took Ike with him to Bismarck a day early.

Our outdoor kennel in Bismarck is all concrete so we don’t have to worry about Ike eating rocks when Alistair is at work and this will also give our aging cats a little break from the monster who (very rarely)barked at them.

(I’m not stupid. I know Ike and Alistair are enjoying their little ‘bromance’ right now, too.)

“Hims is going on an adventure with Dad!”

The boys headed east in Big Silver a couple of hours before I took off in Tabtha for Deer Lodge on a beautiful blue-sky morning yesterday and Alistair kept me updated with pictures texted from various spots along the long road.

And I updated my friends from the vet clinic as we were waiting out our mandatory 15 minutes post-vaccine because they all cared for Ike when he yelped and whined at them for 3 days after his surgery.

This was outside of Sims, Mt. “Hims just went through Sims! Hims is so FUNNY!”

Ike did very well on his leash and didn’t tear apart the truck if Alistair had to use a rest area himself. Ike travelled like a seasoned pro (maybe he drove around with his former folks a lot?) and never whined or barked. Thankfully he didn’t puke, either, because car sickness in pets can be a very real thing.

(If your dog gets car sick, talk to your vet. There is a great drug called Cerenia created just for this!)

Before or after Jordan, MT

Eventually they made it to our ND home and Ike got to explore a little before they came inside to call Mummy to let me know everything was great.

And apparently Ike woke Alistair up at the crack of dawn for piddles and poops this morning.

They cleaned out the dog kennel and Alistair picked up the plethora of golf balls he’d been chipping and pitching into the snow this winter at Fyfe’s Backyard Driving Range because who knows what Ike would do with golf balls!

(“Hims isn’t going to eat golf balls, Mummy!”)

“Nice digs but Hims prefers the inside of the house.”

Alistair even left Ike in the kennel today when he went into town for groceries. When he came home, our New New Neighbor’s wife (they are NOTHING like New Neighbor for those of you who have followed the blog) came over because she thought a dog might be caught somewhere thanks to all of the yelping and crying that was happening at our house.

“What? Hims was worried Dad had left forever!”

We assured her that Ike was fine albeit a tad melodramatic when left alone. NNN’s wife is a very sweet person who offered to come over and walk Ike if he was screaming bloody blue murder again when Alistair has to work. They recently lost their senior canine best friend so maybe there will be some healing involved. You’d think that would be “full circle” enough for this blog, which often touches on how things tend to fall into place the way they should but she also mentioned the white and orange cat they’ve been feeding in their barn.

Whitey!

Whitey in Bismarck, 2019 (through the front door)

Alistair has fed Whitey, the stray, for years but over the past couple of months he hasn’t been a daily regular. We had talked about it and both hoped, of course, that he had found a new benefactor but we also worried he’d been injured or worse. Even if neither of us has ever been able to touch the little guy there is a loving familiarity to our relationship and, hey, he did leave a dead rat for Alistair one time on the driveway!

So there’s some happy-squishy-good-feeling-karma-like-yumminess-and-sunshine for your hearts.

And our hearts.

And NNN’s wife’s heart.

“Hims is happy. This is Hims’ chair now.”

And Ike’s heart because that’s where this latest adventure and frolic through Fyfe Life began a week and a half ago and so many of you have told me how Ike’s story and near-euthanasia-experience touched you and made you smile.

Or maybe it made you cry a little.

I still get little tears from time to time.

Like when I was watching Big Silver drive down the slushy driveway yesterday morning even though I don’t tear up as much when Alistair leaves because its been 14 years that we’ve been doing this but sometimes the goodbye is just a bit more difficult for me knowing I’ll be alone up here rambling around our big house with a trio of kitties and a trio of trouble for 3 weeks instead of 2 and even though I’ll be busy driving and vetting and real estate-ing and even though the Players Cup has been more than interesting today and even though the wine bar is full and Stanley Tucci is exploring Italy for me tonight there are times out in the middle of nowhere in the last house on a long road next to the large forest I do admit to feeling a teensy bit sad.

Off they went!

Those moments don’t last long, though.

I can usually find something funny or ironic about any given situation I create for myself and before long I’m laughing at something the ferrets are doing or while watching Jockey seriously try to wipe out our fish tank populations. And soon after that Alistair will text me another Ike picture or someone will text me about a listing or I’ll look outside and see how very, very lucky I am to live where I live.

And to share it with the equine, feline and weasel companions as well as anyone who takes the time to read these blogs.

I hope Alistair and Ike continue enjoying their great adventure in Bismarck and I hope I can make it to my hair appointment on the 24th without taking a jiffy marker to my greys and I hope my friends have great success at their new office in Hamilton!

(Hopefully NN isn’t still reading my blogs like he did many years ago before they moved and left our farm equipment to us…)

“Hims is curious about the giant hot water bath!”
Somewhere by Lewistown, I believe
“Hims is a very good boy!!!!”
SO happy!!!
Remember that log home I just listed? The deck is fabulous!
My boys in ND!

Special Agent Fox Mulder Fyfe

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Mulder and Mummy

I think its pretty safe to say that I am not suffering from Compassion Fatigue.

No, my emotions are well and truly on display and I often have no control over them.

Like now… when I am choosing to share the fact that we had to help another special member of the Fyfe family over the Rainbow Bridge a few days ago when a rapid type of cancer took over Mulder’s unsuspecting body.

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Mulder, snoozing on the kitchen table last summer

The grief is raw and fresh and the tears are burning my eyes and I am totally okay with that.

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Alistair and Muldy back in ND a few years ago

Compassion fatigue is a term used for medical professionals who deal with emotional work routinely only their emotions don’t show.

It is often a veterinary team member who deals with terminal diagnoses, dropped-off or unwanted pets and euthanasias on a regular basis.

Many of these people bottle their emotions up inside with a “suck it up” attitude and they don’t have an outlet to let them back out.

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The “Muldy Pillow”

No family, friend or colleague to share them with.

No journal or blog to give life to words and feelings.

No sports or hobbies to allow the emotions to ride along on physical or creative release.

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Mulder loved nothing better than a classy box to hang out in

A resident during my 4th year Small Animal Medicine rotation was like that.

I had gone in to see a client and realized I was being asked to perform my first-ever euthanasia.

On a lovely, older, long-haired ginger cat.

The cat’s name was Tanya.

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Mulder Fyfe!

I remember going back to the interns and residents with tears in my eyes, thinking of my own long-haired ginger buddy in Bismarck, telling them the owner’s wishes for that morning.

This particular resident looked me in the eye and said, poker-faced, that I had to “get over it.”

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Muldy and I in Bismarck

I still remember how I felt that day before, during and after the appointment and how I didn’t bother holding the tears back as I injected the terminal solution into Tanya’s intra-venous catheter.

The resident didn’t grade me very well after that rotation and I didn’t care.

I have always wanted to be a good vet.

Maybe not the smartest, most intuitive, amazing, intellectual vet. Just a good one whose clients would know I cared about them and their pets.

I never minded sharing many tears over many goodbyes in my clinic.

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Not long after Mulder moved in with us 16 years ago

My feelings were right at the surface when I laid awake our final night in bed with Alistair, Mulder, UB and Loki.

I didn’t sleep a wink listening to Mulder’s sometimes-raspy breathing, knowing his cutaneous lymphoma had likely spread elsewhere.

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Mulder’s glorious winter hair coat in Bismarck a few years ago

 

I got up with him through the night when he got off the bed and helped him to the litter box where his kidneys spoke volumes.

Literally and figuratively.

I cried all night and in the morning when I told him all the things that needed to be said.

And I cried when I knew Alistair was off having his own time with our special friend.

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More “Muldy Pillow”

Mulder was unique for so many reasons and anyone who visited the Fyfe Farm remembered him.

Maybe for his raspy, incessant “MRAWWWWL” that he shouted frequently.

Maybe for the way he sat at (or laid on) the kitchen table even when we were having supper.

Or maybe for his ‘kiss pieces’ of bacon he would happily take from Alistair’s mouth regardless of who was watching.

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My breakfast-in-bed companions, Alistair, Mulder and Boomer (likely just after a kiss piece of bacon)…

He was a character from the moment he moved inside, a torn-up, scarred, sassy ragamuffin who I only fed because I didn’t want this beat-up stray dying with an empty stomach in our barn.

He followed his big brother, Oscar around, he smacked at my stepkids for no apparent reason, he head-butted us with an intensity that knocked us off balance, he tried opening door knobs with his front paws, he hunted voraciously, he tolerated our Siamese, Sport, who followed him everywhere, he groomed our arms as he purred if you rubbed his head and routinely drew blood with his intense, brittle tongue and he knew how to give as much love back as we could give him.

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Muldy-in-a-box

He hid in boxes and was first in line for soft food and he actually had a sense of humor.

When he first moved in with us he would lay at the top of our split level stairs and whack at our dressing gowns as we walked past him, almost sending us down the stairs.

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Purrrrrrrrrrrrr…

We would look down and he would be looking away, forepaws tucked neatly underneath his chest and then slowly look up at us as if to say, “What? You being clumsy again?”

Alistair didn’t believe a cat was capable of such coy plotting until the one time Mulder got his claw stuck in my robe and he was busted.

He never did it ever again and I’m smiling from the memory.

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Boomer, Loki and Mulder helping me study years ago in ND

As he got older we would often find him snuggled in bed next to Loki, our blind Boston Terrier grand-dog who lives with us.

They both claim innocence but we know the affection was real.

We know it because even Loki has been grieving the loss of Mulder the past few days.

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Even the Mulder & Loki golf club covers cuddle in bed!

And Mulder was one of my main muses as I wrote my books, keeping me company on the green couch behind me.

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Helping me write!

 

And the house is quiet and the order of who gets soft food first has changed and I don’t find clumps of orange hair around and nobody is swatting at my hand when I’m on the toilet and UB isn’t sure whose hairy ears to lick and we haven’t had bacon yet because we don’t want to face the no-kiss-piece situation and the freezer is becoming alarmingly full and it wasn’t his time and it isn’t fair and sometimes I just stop and remember and it hurts.

And I miss him.

And I’ve got this emptiness.

And I’m crying again. Because I don’t have compassion fatigue.

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I miss seeing these two cuddled up together.

And so, a few mornings ago, Special Agent Fox Mulder Fyfe laid in his dad’s lap and tears fell from my eyes as I sedated our magnificent little buddy.

His weight was down to just over 8 pounds, which was perhaps half of what Muldy in his prime had weighed.

His dignified, tough, amazing spirit deserved better and together, we gave it to him.

Like Harry. And Oscar. And Chorney before that.

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Mulder and his “sister”, Whitney a few years ago

And nothing is bottled up because that just isn’t healthy and I want to feel the pain because I know it means that I felt the love and joy that my relationships with these spirits gave me.

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Hanging around, Muldy style

Rest in peace, Mulder.

You were so loved. And you are so missed.

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Muldy and I a few months ago… xoxo