Poochus Maximus RIP

Grief knitting is a poignant, obsessive process that can be quite alarming. After the event all you can think about is casting on a project and losing yourself in the process. One minute you can sit knitting and watching the premier of True Blood. The next minute, tears fall into the yarn and you pray it doesn't felt. I have not often had the need for grief knitting. I have been lucky that way and I appreciate that. Unfortunately, grief knitting doesn't have a schedule for when it starts. All you can do is find a fabulous pattern (Lady February) and some great yarn (Mountain Colors Twizzle in Alpine) and knit.

Saturday night, Hubby and I had to take The Sherm to the emergency vet and have her put down. She had been her usual self earlier in the day, performing her acrobatics to see if there was something tasty on the t.v. tray I use for my knitting staging area. Then she had a stroke or a seizure that evening that left her in such a condition that we had not choice about what to do. For this I am forever grateful.

At the risk of seeming completely insane about an animal, I will share a few things about Sherman.

We had several names for Sherman. One that we had started using after watching Rome on HBO was Poochus Maximus. I had created this whole backstory for the name. Sherman was with Julius Caesar when he crossed the Rubicon. Sherman's job was to lead the legion of dogs in subduing all the cats to Caesar's power. I described how she wore the leather armor typical of the Roman legion and the cliche helmet with the red bushy crest.

I also had several songs we sang together. Sherman was a black dog, so we did a lot of blues and Ray Charles together. Her favorite was Blackdog in a Whitedog World. She had ecletic tastes, so we also did some metal. She would sing Shermandog to the tune of Ironman. Actually I would sing and move her around as if she were singing.

Sherman was also the Phantom Farter. She was the source of all noxious smells in the house. At least that is what we have chosen to believe.

The first few days were the most difficult. I could not write or talk about it in any way that made sense to the deepest part of me. I could only knit. Sometimes that is all you can do. The working of the yarn helps you bind your heart together until you are whole again.