Monday, August 9, 2010
Well. Mars didn't make it. We don't know what happened. Shortly after we moved, when he started slimming down from his ample 19 pounds, we attributed it to life in a more exercise-friendly, multi-level house. His energy picked up as his weight came down. When the energy trend reversed and his weight trend didn't, something was wrong. We took him back to Lansing -- our vet there is the best, and we weren't going to give her up over a drive -- where tests showed everything working well except his kidneys, his temperature and, well, the obvious. He slipped into a coma last night, and not the kind you come out of.
Patty and I had rushed to Lansing Saturday either to encourage a or to say our goodbyes. I guess it was both. Yesterday's news was good. He was more alert, his vital signs were better, his temperature was improving if not stable. He was still getting syringe-fed, but he was keeping it down. The news looked good.
Or very bad.
Look. I race. I know how it works. Some races, the ones we call character-builders, I guess, you hit a point where business as usual isn't going to get you there and you have to decide: Do you quit? You decide no. But that decision's not free, and the surge costs everything that's left. Whether it carries you the full distance or wipes you out a few ticks sooner than coasting is not your decision anymore. I think I recognized Mars' surge for what it was Saturday. Now I guess I have to accept his DNF for what it is: An honorable one.
Rest in peace, Mars. Say hi to Fiona. Please, please, have to wait a while to see Mr. B.
God, it's been a long year.
Posted by Jef Mallett at 9:41 AM