With only one dog, getting out of the house was easy. But this was not really easy in a good way. There was actually two dog stories to perseverate over, but I'm trying not to think about the most recent one.
In 2015 I brought home a scared, confused, skinny beagle. Her life had definitely not been good and she really wasn't even sure how to be dog. While she always remained a bit wary, she quickly adjusted to life with me.
She loved going on long walks (as long as it wasn't too hot or too cold). She was good at letting me know when she had to go outside and was very quick to remind me that she was an indoor dog when she wanted back in.
When I first got her she was a bit of odd-dog-out since Jackson and Fairbanks were a tight Team Beagle. When Tibbit joined in 2018, Isla took on the role of matriarch - maybe reluctantly at first. But team Beagle became Isla and Tibbit in a way I hadn't seen coming and never would have predicted.
I know lots of people bonded with their pets in the mayhem of Covid, but for me it was part of what made 2020 such a great year. I was still working in an almost empty building on some days and I struggled to figure out how to work from home. But once I incorporated my dogs into the routine, I found a way that worked. The dogs loved it too. Time on the couch, early morning walks before wretched online meetings started. I guess I'm glad that Isla (and Tibbit) got to live through 2020.
I lost Isla on an absolutely miserable March day to hemangiosarcoma this year. She had her spleen removed a few weeks previous and had done a remarkable job in recovery. But just as she started to have some good days again, she soon stopped wanting to eat and started to show signs of internal bleeding. I took her to the vet hoping for a miracle, but knowing there was likely little that could be done.
I've spent a lot of energy beating myself up over the weeks since I lost Isla. I'm mad at myself for doing the surgery, knowing that it made her last few weeks more about the difficulty of recovery than anything else. I also know that given what we knew at the time, surgery was the right decision. I suppose if there is a silver lining to this it is that recovery required her to be calm and the best way to keep Isla calm was to keep her happy. She slept in the bed with me for much of this time as she hated being kept restricted in the playpen. She also had tons of extra attention.
I'm equally mad at myself for not doing more. Rationally I know that letting her go was 100% the right decision. But the world - my world - is not a good place without Isla. When I'm working from home I keep looking over at the couch expecting her to be there; Isla loved the couch as much as any spot in the world.
This is the first time since 1993(ish) that I've only had one dog and looking at only one dog food bowl is painful. I don't think dogs grieve like humans, but Tibbit's behavior makes me believe she really notices the difference (even if she likes getting all the walks now).
I keep seeing Isla's cold, small frame as I had to bury her. I think about her looking at me after her surgery. I know these painful memories of her last few days will be replaced by the endless good memories of a beagle who's life started out really tough but became an absolutely amazing dog. She'll get a tree if the tiny paw paw I planted last fall doesn't come back. I know the pain of losing Isla will subside. Since that first dog in 1993, I've had to bury eight dogs - I still miss each and every one of them. But as I left, I just wanted Isla back - that terribly-flawed, wonderful beagle who was one of my few true friends.
"Who wants an afterlife if the immediate pre-afterlife is spent clutching the arms of a wheelchair, head bent back at a forty-five degree angle, eyes and mouth wide open and equally mute, like so many of my charges at the Woodcrest [a nursing home facility where the author works on weekends]? Is the ‘soul’ that lives forever the one we possess at the moment of death, in which case heaven must look something like the Woodcrest, with plenty of CNAs and dietary aides to take care of those who died in a state of mental decomposition? Or is it our personally best soul — say, the one that indwells in us at the height of our cognitive powers and moral aspirations? In which case, it can’t possibly matter whether demented diabetics eat cupcakes or not, because from a purely soteriological standpoint, they’re already dead.”- B Ehrenreich
And so with a bit more angst than anticipation, I headed out on the road.
Home to Marquette, IA: 564.1 miles
The previous day's rain and much cut grass made the area smell like vegetative decay. That plus the humid, foggy conditions resulted in an uncomfortable clamminess. I was still enjoying the ride.
Once on the interstate I headed north and west. Getting around Indianapolis was relatively easy; the opposite direction was nearly a parking lot. I-74 had very light traffic even barely outside of the cities. Perhaps the recent spike in fuel prices are keeping people closer to home.
The morning remained intensely foggy to the point that it may as well have been raining.
I jumped off the interstate near Davenport, IA and did my best to hug the Mississippi River the rest of the day. I continually saw signs for "The Great River Road" so I must have been doing something right. Despite being called "The Great River Road" - much of the road actually diverts from the river. And some of the best views are fleeting at best. But I suppose there are enough good views to call it "The Great River Road." Unquestionably the Mississippi River is an impressive body of moving water.
And even when away from the road, it was a really nice ride. My route took me through lots of gentle sweeping turns, big hills. Springtime in Iowa can only be described as verdant. Since this was Iowa, there was lots of agriculture as well, but even this was quite pretty.
Soon enough I made my way into Marquette and found my hotel. It sits right across the street from the river with a small levee in the way. I walked around the park for a bit, happy to be off the bike.
I made my way down to a convenience store for some snacks - I hadn't eaten at all through the day and was hungry enough that my purchases were quite stupid. Actually I'll also blame Doritos for being stupid since Doritos 3D are apparently just bugles with weird seasoning. I hate to think how much I paid for them...
Dinner back at the hotel was a noodle bowl I brought from home. It seemed easier than going down to the casino for dinner (I assume they have a restaurant). Besides, the casino boat looked enough like the Ozark casino boat that I didn't want to get caught in the crossfire.
I ended the day with gas station ice cream - which was a good enough way to end the day.
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