Her and Me

Memoirs of a Downward Facing Dog

I had to put my dog down today.  Nobody wakes up in the morning and thinks, “Today is the day that I have to put my dog down.”

I woke up thinking today was the day that I take my dog to the vet, have lunch with my friend, take a yoga class and then watch The Taste with my parents in the basement with take-out and wine.  Note to Self: who really has control anyways?

The vet took a routine look at her gums:  pale as a ghost.  I had no idea that dog gums were so indicative of health.  And yet 4 hours, 2 ultrasounds and 1 last car ride later (she always loved car rides) and I am taking her home to await her appointment with the one who would “make her more comfortable.”

She would have died today no matter what.  But she died in my arms, my helpless sorrow dripping onto her face.  And just like that:  she is gone.

We went places.  Her and me.  She was the one thing that stuck….unconditionally stuck.  She was a witness to the highs and lows of my entire adult life; she felt the tear of every heartbreak, the wind of every adventure; the joy of my joy and ashamedly, the verbal sting of my stress.   I don’t think even family puts up with that much.

She was my rock and my anchor…the only constant.  She taught me to care for something bigger than myself.  She helped me put my life into perspective and to consider the simple joys: friendship, playtime, fresh air and a good poo.  Caring for her helped me grow up.  It made me a better person; a thoughtful person.  She went where I went and though there were times when I had to branch out on my own, find my own way…to learn and grow and discover; she was the beacon that brought me back.  And now that she’s gone, I feel scared; alone and untethered.

Who’s gonna stick now???

People said we even looked alike.  For sure, she was a dog version of my alter-ego:  loyal, protective, fun, loving and just the right kind of crazy.  She touched the lives of those she met—ask the cleaning lady whose feet she liked to attack, or my pregnant neighbor whose feet she liked to attack, or the fridge repairman whose feet she liked to attack.  Personally, I think she just had a keen sense of peoples’ personal foot hygiene.   She hated people speaking to her in French.  And she howled–Every.  Single.  Time–I left her outside of a store.

But I get it…I hate it when people I love leave me too.

She gave me something to take care of and along the way, she taught me what we were capable of:  the love, the loyalty, the adventure.  The In-It-Till-The-End.

And then she left me to figure it out….all on my own.

Untethered.

Jerzy, I could not have asked for a better friend.  You were my side-kick, my partner-in-crime, my confidante and my anchor.  We had such an incredible, kick-ass, twelve-year ride together.  You showed me the definition of true, unadulterated love and loyalty and it is so hard to imagine my life without you by my side.  I miss you so very, very much. 

Advertisements

3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Mary Lynn
    Mar 11, 2014 @ 06:26:18

    Hugs and love, this made me cry for you and feel joy that you had her so so long too!
    Love you Beautiful! xoxo

    Reply

  2. littlehousebytheferry
    Mar 11, 2014 @ 15:24:12

    I’m so sorry that you had to say goodbye to Jerzy today. Dogs are amazing creatures and they capture our hearts so fully. I know it’s hard to do right now, but remember all the amazing times you had with her, and how fortunate she was to live life with such a caring and kind owner. Sending you big hugs and comforting thoughts.

    Reply

  3. Andrea
    Mar 11, 2014 @ 23:35:45

    R.I.P. Jerzy. You will find some wonderful new friends wanting to romp with you on this side of the Bridge while you wait for Mom to come and take you home…

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: