It keeps hitting me in waves. I think I’m okay, and then I’ll look at a particular spot on the floor and I can SEE her lying there. My chest hurts so bad, it just feels like there’s a hole where my heart should be.
Monday night I stayed up late to work on a Christmas present. AJ decided to go to bed, and Sydney watched to make sure he was “in for the night.” Then she quietly walked around to his (her) recliner and hopped up. She rested her chin on the arm of the chair and her eyes closed in that peaceful way that dogs’ eyes do when they’re sleeping. I can’t tell you how many times I’d wander back into the living room after turning in for the night to find her curled up in the chair, or better yet, lying on her back on the sofa. I figured, when a dog’s reached the ripe old age of 11, she’s entitled to a few perks. So I never made her get down.
She’d become quite a beggar in her later years. I blame this completely on AJ. He was always slipping her little bits of this and that when he thought I wasn’t looking. And since I knew it was pointless to fight him on it, I started slipping her little things here and there, too. She loved cheese, and a bit of ham here and there. Especially a raw egg cracked in her bowl. When AJ gathered the eggs and found a cracked one in the dozen, it was a banner day!
The day before she died, Jami got very put out with her. She had a piece of fried chicken on a plate on the dining room table. She went to get something, and guess who snatched the chicken from her plate? What a stinker! She wasn’t usually so bold, but I guess the chicken was within easy reach . . .
There’s still a few of her hairs on the recliner cushion. I don’t want to vacuum the cushion. Totally irrational, I know. Something else I know is that I’ve been crying for what seems like hours and I just can’t seem to find an end to it. I miss her so much and I want her back. And that’s not going to happen. I don’t think I’ve ever been so full of grief over the loss of an animal.
I know it will pass, eventually. The pain will become an ache, dull and not so intense. And I’ll be able to think about her without feeling this way. Please forgive me for wailing away on my blog. I’d like to scream, but I’d wake Jami up and disturb the neighbors. So thank goodness for the blog.