July 15 … Issac

Issac Loki Barnes, at least that is my name for him.  We never could decide if he was Issac Asimov, Issac Newton, or Issac Hayes.  I called him Loki because that is the Norse god of mischief, Issac was good at mischief.

Well, another late night, two in a row kinda wear on ya.  I stayed up late playing some silly game, trying to help out one child’s character get to the next level.  I crashed about 11:30 on the couch.  I had just painted the master bathroom and the fumes were keeping Kristin awake, so she took a walk at about 1:30 – 2:00 this morning.  Coming back from the walk she happens to glance in the ditch next to our driveway and sees Issac, he’s not moving.  Best I can figure is that he was hit by a car and had some internal bleeding, made it back to the house as best he could, and passed away sometime around midnight.

It was his own dunder-headed fault, he was too smart for his own good.  He was able to figure a way out of every pen we put him in and he would just run around the neighborhood.  He even taught Sadie how to get out of the pens (I think Griffin would too but he’s too barrel chested).  He was always there for us and loved to sit on our feet while we used the toilet, like a big cat.  He had so much hair on his back that it looked like he had a faux-hawk, after we had him shaved he looked like a skinny lab except for the beard.  When he ran he looked like a goofy bunny, kind of hopping and bounding around, always had his tongue lolling to one side or the other and his ears flying back.  He didn’t care though, he was running and free.  He loved the children, would take turns sleeping on their beds if one of the other dogs weren’t already there.  Always wanted to lick faces and hug bodies, annoying children because he didn’t know how to handle his big paws and claws. Even though he was the newest addition to our family he had already fought for his place and knew where it was.  Sadie (the doggie matriarch) was the most upset at his arrival because she felt like she had to rule and he was a threat to her dominance.  After about a week of snarling they were best of friends romping and playing in the yard.

While I was trying to figure out what to do Sadie was there sniffing around, looking curiously at where Issac lay.  I had the bright idea that I would bury him behind the house, but at 3am I quickly figured out that it was more of a chore then working in a tilled garden or pushing mulch around.  To keep wild animals from the body I move him to the fenced area that is away from the house, this way the children won’t wake up and see him either.  When the Vet’s office opened at 7:30 we call and find out about cremation.  As I go out to move him to the car I see both dogs (now out of the fence) sniffing around where Issac was laying when Kristin found him, almost as if they are saying goodbye as well.  The Vet’s office was very understanding and helped as much as they could, offering as many condolences as possible.

When I get back from the Vet’s we wake the children and let them know whats going on.  Kristin tells Nathan alone and, with his understanding of mortality, gets a little upset and hugs mommy a little harder then usual.  I tell Emma by herself, slowly explaining, and she comprehends and hugs me for a little bit.  Nathan tells Kate, but we still explain what everything means, she comprehends what is going on.  Kate actually asked if she could help bury him.  We had to explain to all the children that we were not going to bury, we were going to cremate him.  Then we had to explain what cremation is.

It’s been a long, busy couple of days.

July 14 … smells?

After a long hot day we finally meander back home, situate the dogs, placate the children, and get everything and everyone in their appropriate place for the night. I think I pass out around 9:45 but one can never really be sure of what time they go to sleep. I think Kristin is still talking to me as I go, but I have no idea what it is about. I probably mumble something semi-coherent back to her as my lids close even further and I drift a little more.

11:45 I’m woken up by some rude shaking and maneuvering of covers. I collect my wits enough to realize that a child is talking to me about nightmares and is trying to chase them away snuggled up to me. Fine, whatever, I’m coasting back to sleep with my arm propped at an odd angle trying to make sure she doesn’t fall off the bed, but coasting none-the-less.

1:00 I’m woken by more jostling of the bed. This time there is a bit more urgency then the nightmare time so I’m paying a little more attention. Emma says something about not feeling good so I recommended going to the bathroom. Not but a few seconds later I hear the tale-tale signs of vomit hitting the floor and immediate crying. I hurry in to the bathroom to help anyway I can, nothing really I could do but get a bucket for any future spewing – lucky as ever, I just manage to get her the bucket. This bout passes, child cleaned up, new clothes on, floor cleaned up, bucket cleaned up, and everyone is back in bed. Kristin on one side, Emma in the middle, and I’m on the opposite side (I palindrome I…sorry, random thought).

Laying in bed next to Emma I notice she’s a bit warm (as expected with being sick) and there is some sweat beads on her forehead. Wiping them off I catch a whiff of her. God, she smells like her mother. When I nuzzle Kristin I get intoxicated with her smell, there is nothing else like it. I once tried to decipher it and suggested it was kind of like pancakes, bacon, and steak with a hint of some flowered fruity thing; but that isn’t even right, heck that doesn’t even make sense. Anyway, Emma, in her heated sickly state is just sending off waves and waves of smells, and I’m pressed against her breathing it all in. It really amazes me that this little thing WE MADE smells like her mother, and I don’t know why. Not exactly like her, but close enough that I could probably pick her out of a line-up if I was blind folded and not distracted by steak and/or bacon with some pancakes thrown in for good measure.

I can roll over in bed and smell Kristin or a child on a pillow, sometimes several hours after they have last even touched it.  Each of the children smell like their mother, but different too, and different from each other. Again, good for any line-up situations I may ever be in. Just the other day Nathan was being an annoying butt and I really just wanted to send him to his room to get him away from me. Then, he ran up to me, got right under my feet really, hugged me and basically shoved his head under my nose. The smell got me, every tense thought gone, I couldn’t send him to his room. It is like the children know they can incapacitate me with their smells (and since I have a boy some of his smells are rather rancid and really can incapacitate) and can use their sweaty little heads to get their way. Why is that? I mean, Nathan wasn’t any less annoying and I did end up sending him away later that night, but why did just catching a whiff of him prolong the process? Why does laying down with a sick child fascinate me? Why can I walk in a room and pick out Kristin from the children just by smelling, even when they are all lumped together on the couch? Why does it even matter at 3 am?

Kristin is snorting in her sleep (talking a little too), Emma is smacking her lips, Issac (the dog) is rolling on the floor chasing Bambi (another story, with sound effects). I’ve been up since the vomit incident checking emails and writing one or two to let my manager know the situation and that I probably won’t be in to work today. AC keeping ambient noise at bay by being just the tiniest bit louder than the crickets, and the cool calm darkness of night is starting to drag me down again.