Loss.

 

My remembered companion

I’ve been thinking for a week about how to write this entry. My first attempt just sounded too as if I was writing just to tell you, not because I really wanted to. I mean, I want to talk about it, but I felt I was forcing myself. And yesterday, before I knew it was my mom, someone had clicked on this image of my dog. It was a hard reminder to me that I will never look into this sad seal pup like eyes again. I stared long at the image and felt overwhelmed by a longing and a sadness. If you have ever lost a pet of any kind then you know this feeling.
My beloved companion passed away suddenly last week at the age of 6. I can say that we knew she was sick, but after her first round of chemo, we were hopeful, and by we, I mean, my parents, my family, and I. Previous to her first treatment of chemo, my dog had been low and always tired. After the first round, she seemed to have bounced back. When I saw her I gave her lots of big hugs and kisses, because no one ever wants to lose their pet, even if they are old. The idea seems to cruel to think about. So I gave my dog this undying affection as a sign that I was hopeful I would not lose her yet and that I loved her and loved her, and loved her. I hoped she felt it the same way I did.
I saw her last Monday and she was well. There was no indication of her pending sudden death. As always I gave her tons of love when I saw her. She gave me lots of love back. She was always lifting her paw in a cute sort of pathetic way and I took it, and as I normally would say, I said “Nice to meet you”. This is something I’ve been doing since we got her and she had formed the habit of lifting that paw up ever so gently.
She went to her second round of chemo on Tuesday. As I write this tears just form in my eyes, the tear in my heart is still so raw. She checked out perfect by the vet’s standards. She returned home happy because she had left the vet’s office. A few hours later my mom went downstairs to find her motionless. A large pile of vomit was beside her. In desperation my parents lifted her and took off for the vet in hopes that this wasn’t the end.
I’m not good at goodbyes. I hate “The End”. You can tell me she will live on in my heart and memories forever, but I don’t have her anymore. I find it is so hard to accept. This is the dog who jumped on her cage at the animal shelter to get my attention and instantly began wagging her tail at the sight of me. Who’s adorable seal pup looking face captured my heart, and who came after we had put down my childhood dog due to his old age. I wasn’t prepared. I thought I had more time.
But life is funny. It happens when you’re making other plans. This I know way too well. But it doesn’t make losing her any easier.
I sat at my parent’s house with their other dog and felt my heart looking for her somewhere, but my mind knows she isn’t there. I don’t like the idea that my other dog has to also feel the loss and I know he does.
I want her back for one moment to say a final goodbye. Maybe that’s why I can’t accept her not being there, there’s no closure. I know it’ll get easy with time. But every time I look into my other dog’s eyes and how much he wants someone to play with, I just feel heavy.
Some might think it is silly to feel this way about a dog, but she is apart of my family. She ran with me and hiked with me. It was her nose that nuzzled me when I was sad and crying over a break up. She never judged me, but constantly loved me and was always excited to see me.
I’ll never forget her and I will miss her forever. I hope to run that half at the end of May for her. She was my sprinting running partner that made me go faster and made running not so lonely.
I hope she’s happily running in the big dog park in the sky.

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About KatONeillPhoto

The fun-sized version of a photographer
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2 Responses to Loss.

  1. Shutupandrun says:

    I am so sorry for the loss of your beloved dog. That post was a beautiful tribute to her. Thank you for reminding me to go hug my dog and look into his eyes (or one eye) today.

    And thank you for your insightful comment on my blog today. We do have a lot in common. I think one of the toughest things is getting one’s confidence back after an injury. Sounds like you are doing it: baby steps. You ‘ll get there.

  2. kvophoto says:

    Thank you! Thank you for taking the time to post this and read my entry. 🙂
    And thank you for your encouraging words.

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