Day One of Remembering

I suppose the natural thing to do would be to start at the beginning, the first day Rubin came home to live with us in April of 2007, but I think I’ll save that story for later. This morning, I dreamt of Rubin and my mother and I think that is as good a place as any to start my 15 Days of Remembering the Magnificent Rubin. 

My mother wore a red sweatshirt in the later years of her long life that read “Let’s Hygge.” My mom’s family hailed from Denmark and Hygge was, as she liked to say, an approach to life that was about comfort and coziness. You can find a million definitions of Hygge and just as many iterations of it in various Scandinavian cultures, but for my mom, it was an attitude of rest and relaxation. My mom loved that sweatshirt for all it represented and for its innate Hygge-ness: it is, I am here to attest since I’m wearing it as I write, comfortable and cozy. 

When my mother died in late October of 2021, I knew Rubin was not far behind. He was 14.5 years old and his health had noticeably declined. He still loved life, he still loved his walks, and he still loved visiting neighbors and friends. But his interest in food, always minimal at best, was diminishing by the day. On Christmas Day, he stopped eating altogether and for the next 5 days, whatever we offered him —roasted chicken, beef stew meat cooked in broth, cottage cheese, goat’s milk, cheap dog treats and expensive ones as well – he just turned his nose up and walked away. We gave him subcutaneous fluids, B Complex injections, and appetite stimulants, but nothing worked. 

His energy waned as well and while he’d go for a walk down the road a bit, we visibly watched him tire, hanging his head a bit lower and dragging his back feet even more than his usual old man self. 

A friend said to me recently that Rubin always knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to tell us. Not eating was a definite communication, a refusal that we heard loud and clear. We made the painful decision in consult with his vet, who diagnosed the likelihood of cancer, renal failure, and a possible brain tumor, as well as with his guardian angel, the dearest Rachael who guided us to listen with our hearts as well as our minds. 

When mom passed, I had asked Rubin, whose health was failing even then, if he could just give me two more months and always a rule follower, Rubin lived two and half months more. 

I find comfort, of course, in knowing that they are together again – my mother and Rubin – as he loved his “grandma” immensely and she loved him. She was his “Hygge” and I hope he was hers too.