The 5 stages of grief. At least that is what they call it. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. They list it out like its something that can possibly be quantified or measured. Like they happen in that order.
What they don't tell you is that it all hits you. Sometimes all in 1 day. Usually in no particular order.
When we lost her, Ethan, that night fell to pieces in a fraction of a second. Me? I went right into denial and bargaining. Pleading with him to help me get her to the vet, silently hoping that she was going to be okay. I saw her heart stop, and the light leave her eyes, and still I was bargaining. Pleading inside that the vet would have some miracle cure and save her even though after only half and hour I could feel how cold her body was. Even when the vet was examining her, I was nodding to her and listening to her check every possible spot for a pulse, while she looked at me and could tell that I was pleading to her. It wasn't until she looked at me and said "I'm so sorry" that i finally hit the depression part.
The denial is still there. That's the hardest part. Convincing our hearts that there is no fix.
I've been angry too. I know many of you are faithful people who believe in one deity or another. I have never truly believed in it. In loosing her, it makes it even harder. I believe that were there a deity of some kind they wouldn't allow things like this to happen. They wouldn't allow children to be starved, beaten, sold, abused, neglected, tortured, and killed. They would want animals, faithful loving companions who only know how to love and be compassionate, to die, in pain, and scared. They would have found a way to alert us, make us aware, and help us make a choice to allow her to leave us, in a way that didn't cause her pain. That is probably what I am most angry about. She didn't deserve to leave this earth that way, she deserved a little more dignity than that.
I thought I was accepting this. I thought I was doing okay. I think I mostly pushed it to the back of my mind so I could continue to do.
I was updating my December Calendar with my vacation and my days off. And as I was looking through the days, I came upon the 3pm vet appointment on the 19th and a reminder to give her the Bravecto for fleas on the 23rd. And I lost it. There's a dose of Bravecto in the landfill somewhere because that made me cry a week or so ago. We still have her food. I keep meaning to take it to the shelter to donate, but I keep "forgetting."
The other morning I called Trigger, Zyera again. It was early in the morning and I was letting him out to potty and he went to run down the hall to snuggle in bed instead and I said "NO! ZYERA, CRAP TRIGGER, GET OVER HERE, GO OUT AND POTTY"
He's going to have a complex. Sometimes I tell him hes a good girl. ðŸ˜
He doesn't care though. He just wiggles his little butt and brings me a toy.
He doesn't come when hes called... but if you say "bring it here" he comes to you. He's a character. Just like she was. Sometimes I wonder if she hasn't passed on and if she is still hanging around the house, entertaining herself with all the tennis balls she murdered over the years. If she's the reason he's such a good dog and doesn't get into too much trouble, because she's there whispering in his ear "don't do that, that will get you spanked you little shit."
I don't know if I believe in Heaven or if that is just something humans made up to make themselves feel better. Part of me believes in reincarnation... so if that is true and possible, I hope whomever has the soul of our sweet dog loves her as much and spoils her as much as we did. I hope they know how much she loves having an operable back window in the truck, how she loves to ride IN the cab, not the box. I hope they know she is stubborn and will milk any special treatment she gets. How much she loved tennis balls. And how she hates feet. I miss having a blanket monster at our house.
I miss her. Every day. I talk to her ashes more often than I probably should. And sometimes I stare at the canvases in the living room and loose track of how long I have been staring.
