old blog from myspace

Monday, November 19, 2007

goodbye little baby dog


Have you ever felt so sad, it feels like you are going to throw up?

I've been trying to rush through the mourning, I think. I've been trying to "feel better" already. It's only been a day and a half. A house without a little furry friend for a day and a half. Feels like a month.

I've been vaccuuming, every inch, behind everything. Moving furniture, using the attachments to get along the walls and in the corners. To spare myself in the future from coming across his fur somewhere. As if it could be any more difficult than it is for me now to see it... but I still feel like I need to do it.

Am I trying to digest this pain to quickly? It is so awful, so bottomless... I want it gone. You can't blame me for trying to put it away as soon as I can. But it won't be put away any time soon, I think.

One thing I've learned in the past year is how important it is to feel what you feel when you feel it. This has been a hard lesson to learn- my whole life I have had the habit of trying to feel what I "should" feel, or what I think other people want me to feel. This is a hard thing to get over.

Right now I feel very sad, like a bag of sand is over my chest.

I see his little hiding places, empty.

I imagine his little pointy red head peaking up over the edge of the couch.

I think for a second when I put food on the coffee table that he might get into it, then I remember.

It's hardest walking in the door, and seeing his spot on the couch that he would sleep on during the day. He would pick up his head, his tongue sticking out at the end, his mane rumpled, looking suprised. My sweet baby.

His time was done. He was sick, his kidneys didn't work anymore. His blood was toxic, he wouldn't eat. He only wanted to lay on the bed, with someone close by. He was throwing up 4 or 5 times a day, he could barely walk. It was hard to watch. My baby, who used to chase horses at lightning speed in the field behind our house.

He seemed to know, when we carried him into the animal hospital on Sunday. He was fine, he was smiling. He was calm. He was looking us in the eyes. He looked into my eyes as the pink liquid went into the catheter in his front left leg. He was looking into my eyes, his head relaxed into my hand, and I lowered it to the floor.

We took him to a canyon in Cache Valley and buried him later that day. It is hard to bury something you love. It is hard to leave the body there, far away. The body seemed like all I had left at the time.

I think I feel him talking to me, saying that he is still here. I don't know. It could be me trying to make myself feel better already. But I like the thought of him being free, and young, and happy again. I like the thought of him being around me still. That's the only consolation I am able to find.

Isn't it the hardest thing you can face in life, to lose something/someone you love? Isn't that the hardest thing you can think of?