On Being a Grown-Up

It occurs to me that this has been a year of serious, grown-up decisions. 

My year began in December.  Faced with an unsteady work situation and a new opportunity, I opted to leave my job of seven years to take on the new challenge.  The next half-year proved equally unsettling as nearly weekly changes kept me in a constant state of adjustment.  It's only now beginning to stabilize, but how I'll end up is not entirely clear.

In May I faced the sudden, brutal decision to euthanize my beloved dog, Oskar, when he bloated.  Bloat is always an unexpected condition, but one that (luckily) owners of large, deep-chested dogs know is possible.  We think about it, what we would do.  Would surgery be an option?  It is very expensive.  At some age, that investment and risk is no longer reasonable.

When Oskar bloated, I knew that at his age and my financial situation surgery was not our option.  It took all of my strength to say to the veterinarian "we must put him to sleep."  I kept saying "I don't want him to suffer," which I hoped would be enough to indicate my choice.  But I realized that until I said the final words, the vet would not have his clear instruction.  So I had to force myself to say the words I never, ever wanted to say.  No one else could make the grown-up choice that would save my dog from suffering.

The summer continued.  I had to decide to lock the chickens and duck in the barn in an attempt to save them from the barn terrorist.  That did not immediately solve the problem, but ultimately twelve hens, two roosters and a drake are still here.

I decided to let Barnard live in the barn, then a few weeks later I decided that Abe's struggle was coming to an end.

Between the first time Barnard took the bus to Chicago and the second, I began to think it was possible that he was a she, and a pregnant she at that.  I wanted to have kittens -- new, happy life in the barn.  I told myself that I could tame the babies, I would send them all on the bus, they would be happy in the barn.  But at the same time I had begun thinking that maybe Barnard would come to live in the house at some point.  Finally, I decided that the grown-up choice was to send Barnard on the bus.  There are plenty of cats without homes in this area.  If I want more barn cats, I can find any number.  Recently I received the paperwork from her clinic stay.  She was pregnant when she was spayed.  It makes me sad.

While I do not regret the choices I have made, I do feel their weight on my shoulders.  It's not easy to be the one who takes a tough stand.  It's stressful to do what you should do instead of what you want to do. 

I know the choices I made were solid, grown-up decisions.  Right now they just make me feel old.