What's in a Number? For Tres, Three Was His Charm

On March 3, 2021, I took this photo of Tres meeting for the first time, my client of over a year who had, from our interview meeting in late 2019, included O'Rio Grande in things.  

(Permission given by next of kin to use this photo taken as winter turned to spring, 2021.)

At that time, O'Rio was nearing his end of life, given to me by his forever human/guardian (literally forever, it was from birth) when he became difficult to care for.  His story lead to Tres' rescuer guardian of 8 years (adopted when he was about 4) asking me to do the same for Tres as I had for O'Rio.  I did, despite not "wanting to", because my gut and circumstances with timing said to.  

Carson here, seen sitting on his walker getting to know Tres, loved dogs.  He had many in his younger years.  Like my father, when mobility is limited and you know your years living are, too, you drop pets from the repertoir, and relish the visits of others'.  

The gentleman passed with the help of hospice and palliative care as summer was turning to fall (2021).  During the last days, Tres would come with me to bring requested things to his family inside the facility.  I pulled in and parked to set up the hatchback pointing towards his window, like in the photo.  Tres let out an infamous BARK -- which they heard inside, came to the window, waved.  The ways we coped during Covid precautions.  Only closest could visit inside, and only if the person was dying. 

Tres's day to pass came on 3/3 -- it was a "coincidence of timing".  One that brings me solace.  Seeing the photo, above, was taken exactly one year before, does as well.  There's a symmetry to it, I suppose. 

I'd been creating some blogs here at Lumigrate that included Tres, once I knew our time together was soon coming to an end.  When I got him on 7 December 2020, I'd already made an appointment with the specialist veterinarian, and started the meeting with "I want to have a euthanization plan for him, and address his pain at this time".  The veterinarian's response was "his mobility will be what determines his euthanization".  I agreed.  And that is exactly what occurred.  We both knew I knew, as that had been the case for O'Rio.

At the last appointment where we had treatment, acupuncture once again, he suggested I borrow a Help 'Em Up harness that had been donated by a dog's human who went through the difficult transition prior to our being there that day. Marley was the name of the dog who had used the harness, new, for a short time it looked --- it was in great condition. 

I'd often told others when introducting them to Tres that his history of younger years I was given when adopting him at 12 was a lot like Marley in "Marley and Me".  He was named Chase because he ran off so much, was chased, and spent time with animal services.  I'd therefore tease when he'd start to "run off", impaired as he was and not get far about how I'd take him to meet the head of our county's animal services (who had met and admired, kindly, O'Rio at an animal services education event we attended in 2019).  

The veterinary office has a lovely tradition of lighting the candle that's on the front desk's counter when euthanization is going on behind closed doors, with a note posted to let people know.   

Mercury-sensitive me had gone in to pick up a prescription once and encountered the offensive fumes it was omitting, stayed away from it so did not read the posted page as to what the candle was about.  Later I'd get near it when it was not burning, as I was paying for the acupuncture visit, and read the posted message at that time.  I was so touched that they think so much of the "ambiance" in the clinic when such a special service is being performed....  

Looking ahead to Tres' turn, as I'd sit on the floor next to him lying on his bed on the floor, I'd talk telepathically or verbally to him about what we were about to do, one of these days ---- . 

The first time I did, the TV was on a channel playing '70's hits -- The Who was on when I sat down next to him, but just as  I started "the talk", petting his head and taking an ear in my hand to stroke, "Stairway to Heaven" began playing.   

I felt it was a sign -- indeed it is time to do this thing. I'd recall when my "auntie" passed, on a Friday when I was out with friends for my birthday, I returned from taking the call on my cell phone and the band was playing "Knocking on Heaven's Door".  

After Tres passed and I was finished at the front desk of the clinic, I got in my car and started driving.  Turning on the car stereo I'd wonder if there's be a "sign", as that had occurred the day I left to accompany sweet Carson to an eye appointment, the week before he would go on hospice and pass.  "Forever Young", in that case, back in the fall.   

As I left the veterinary parking lot, the song playing ended, and then "Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone" came on.  I listened to the words, and thought about how, more than most, Tres did NOT like it when I left him home.  Even in his last moments at "home", when he saw me preparing to go out of the house (to take him to be euthanized), he eagerly came with me, scissoring as he walked to the car, waiting for me to unfold the ramp and help him walk up to his favorite place to watch the world outside -- from the back of my little SUV.  

I'd not planned, nor really wanted the 3rd day of the 3rd month of 2022 to be the day of his Grand Finale, but a series of glitches happened late in the week before, and so the third was when the clinic could best have us come for the service.  Tres walked in on his own power. Did he know why, or think we were there for acupuncture -- I do not know.  But I do know it felt like a place I'd been well taken care of, for a long time with O'Rio and then Tres, and this was going to be easier having done it once before with them.  

Tres' primary issue was elbow dysplasia, which, the vet informed me on first appointment in December 2020, is often not caught at wellness checks with puppies because it needs MRI to see, not XRay, typically.  Dysplasia in hips is what became more and more common in the golden retrievers I'm familiar with from my formative years.  I'm so grateful I was able to help his pain from the time I became his last human guardian, initially with medications, then acupuncture.  And lots of little walks (and love).  And most of all, I'm grateful for the coincidences surrounding it all and the comfort that brings.