Tag: Xena

Loving Them All the Way

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Tonight, I gave Xena a bath.

I cleaned away the remnants of blood from last week — not because they bothered her anymore, but because I wanted her to feel fresh, clean, held. I dried her gently, blow-dried her fur, and then sat with her the way I do every night, performing what has now become ritual.

Cleaning her mast cell tumours.

Bandaging the ones that still bleed.

Cleaning her anus and the lipoma around it.

Cleaning the mast cell near her eye.

Only while writing this did I remember that I forgot to apply the Fur Fresh ointment around her eye. The cone is on, though. I’m sitting right here. She’s safe. Sometimes caregiving is like this — you do ninety-nine things right and then your heart races over the one you missed.

Beyond the physical work lies the real weight.

The daily fear of losing her.

The anxiety of that dreaded call — again.

The kind of love that doesn’t sit quietly but presses against your chest until breathing feels incomplete.

Xena has been my heart and soul since she stepped into my life in 2014, after Zoe passed in 2013. And now Zach is gone too. Losing him shattered something in me that I’m still gathering up, piece by piece. Taking care of two dogs with terminal illnesses has taken a toll — on my back, my knees, my head, my heart.

Sometimes, in the middle of work, I just start crying.

I look at Xena and think of Zach.

A song plays, and I’m undone.

I am hurting. I am exhausted. I am terrified of the inevitability I don’t want to name. And still, every day, I choose to show up and make her comfortable — because this is what love demands when it is no longer convenient or pretty.

I don’t expect help from friends. I’ve made my peace with that. But my family and my partners have risen in ways that matter. My sister has been a pillar. Her husband, who was close to Zach, sees now — truly sees — the toll this has taken on me. Anand is grieving too, even if his grief speaks a different language than mine.

And me? I am so tired.

So anxious.

So stretched thin that sometimes I can’t take a full breath.

I want to write this because I want the world to understand something simple and brutal: loving an animal doesn’t mean loving them only when they are young, beautiful, playful, and easy. Loving an animal means going all the way. It means staying when they are old, sick, inconvenient, and breaking your heart.

This is the first time I’ve had two senior dogs at the same time. I’ve always had one elder and one younger — balance, continuity, hope. But losing Zach and knowing Xena may follow within months has cracked something open in me.

Six months apart.

Two souls.

One heart learning, again, what it means to love without conditions.

This is not a story about strength.

This is a story about staying.

Xena

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

You look behind to see if I am coming.

You would take your toy and come to me running.

You are a grumpy little thing with bat-like ears.

You came to me at a time that was filled with tears.

You journeyed through miles, quite a valiant feat.

When I held you, you made my family complete.

I named you a warrior princess, not a guest.

You have more than passed the strongest of tests.

Life has a few more in store for you, I’m afraid,

but I can count on all the victories you’ve made.

So tomorrow may frighten the hell out of me,

but the warrior in you shall fight valiantly.

I love you the most, my daughter, and that you know,

for every glance you give me tells me so.

Know I’ll be there if, on the table, you feel alone,

waiting outside the doors to take you right back home.

So keep your strength and let them cut the cancer out.

Fight and be strong, and you’ll win — I have no doubt.

My heart aches for all the battles you must fight,

but being your dad, that falls as my right.

Just know, as I see you stick your head out of the cone,

the moment I held you, you stopped being on your own.

Of MCTs and Pneumonia

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

The days seem to pass by and I am seeing them melt away. It was just yesterday that I lost Zoe. There was a blur of sadness and we got Zach from Pune. It was Diwali and he slept through the crackers and the smog. He was distant like some saint of old. Wouldn’t be affectionate with family members. But he is loved. And he loves back. In his own way. He grew up so handsome. People love the way he looks. He loves people too. I’d definitely say he takes to strangers with a tail that wags nineteen to the dozen.

Nearly eight years have passed. I fell ill with COVID in April. 4/5 of us contracted it. He was taken to a different home with Xena. Being apart from them was worse than the illness. And the sickness was truly bad. I developed viral pneumonia and nearly died around 17th. I lost my aunt. Zach loved her so. She was my last link to a childhood only she and I shared. I lost her to COVID and the chaos that became the health care system of India.

In this interim, Zach developed a boil on his stomach. It went unnoticed because of all the health problems and loss surrounding the family. Xena developed a boil in her gums. I noticed it when they returned to our home by the end of April. I thought it was a boil. I couldn’t give them a bath because of my weakness and so they were taken to a spa. I missed the boil on Zach. Brain fog and fatigue didn’t help matters. Not to mention the series of steroids, blood thinners, anticoagulants and antibiotics that were being pumped into my system.

When he developed allergies in his snout, I began treating it and it was then we began to notice that his front teeth which were already minuscule were disappearing. I checked him up and found large swellings on his gums. And the boil on his stomach. Called the vet who visits our home. The lockdown was on and so we could not take him to the vet we visit.

Got his blood work done and got some meds. But it didn’t quite help. After I began to get slightly better because the steroids were lessened and the anticoagulants were being weaned, I decided to just take him to the vet.

An FNAC was done. At home I googled his gum problem and came to the diagnosis that it is gingival hyperplasia. It’s a terrible thing. And before I could breathe after this – I had to go through CTs myself for my sinuses and chest. The score of my chest was 12/25. It didn’t show any improvement from the last CT.

Coming back from this prognosis, I received news that Zach’s tumour is a mast cell tumour. So it has to be surgically removed. I booked an appointment with the vet and he said that Zach would also need an ultrasound and X-ray to see if any cancer has spread anywhere else. The mind reels. I am not even out of pneumonia and my son gets affected by cancer.

I had to pause here because how would I be able to write what’s going on in my mind and heart exactly. There’s so much rage and so much fear. I don’t really know how to express it all. Sometimes I feel all alone. And death keeps looming around my loved ones. I don’t really care if it comes to take me. I just don’t want to die slow and I don’t want to die alone. I am super worried about Zach. I hope he goes through the surgery well and has a quick recovery. I am worried about any allergic reaction to the GA and I hope his tummy doesn’t get bad. I feel alone. And I don’t want Zach to feel scared. When he gets ill, he comes to me often. He knows that i’m the one who gives the right health care. That I’ll take care of him. I don’t know how he knows this. But he does. And I am happy I am alive for this.