I lost my favorite piece of my childhood, my home...my dog. Reggie. I miss him so much, and it was just this morning....god. I have this huge hole in my chest. This huge ache in my shoulders..all this weight I carry around. Built up. I've cried so much. My eyes are swollen. I couldn't even really open them yesterday. I wish it never ended this way.
A few days ago, I noticed his back legs were becoming wobbly..but nothing too serious. Just a little shaky. Friday, it seemed a little worse. I knew his legs were going out, slowly but surely. I thought it would be months until anything serious happened. I gave him a treat in the kitchen and he had some drool hanging from his mouth, and it worried me, because he has never drooled, ever. I wiped it off of him, thinking it wasn't that big of a deal. Later that night I noticed his right eye seemed different, smaller than the other. His legs seemed a little worse. It was hard for him to get up, but he still did. Still walked. Slow, but nothing too noticeable. Then came Saturday morning. My sister and I were watching tv, and he was walking in from the other living room, slow and wobbly. I told her to look, and we both became seriously worried. His legs seemed so weak, but at least he was walking. It was just his back legs, his front legs were still strong. He went outside to pee, so I followed him. I was so fucking scared, I knew something was seriously wrong. I watched him circle the grass in the back, looking for a place to pee. He was having such a hard time, and he didn't even lift his leg to pee. Then he tried squatting, and he was in so much pain, his legs were so shaky. Chessie, being the asshole she is, saw that he was trying to take a shit and ran over and accidently ran into him and knocked him over. And that was it. He looked at me, so helpless. Like, he knew. This was it. I ran over to him, tried to help him up. He'd stand, but just fall. I started sobbing, and ran inside and called my sister out there. We tried to get him up, and he'd have it for a second, but he'd just lose his balance. We got him to walk half way around the house, and he laid down in the shade on the side of the house. My sister ran out to get the van, and I came back out to him. I was shocked. He had completely changed within the last 20 minutes. He was drooling heavily, he looked grey and old. Like an old man. I couldn't stop crying. My baby boy had gotten old within two days. How is that even possible? We took him to the vet, and they said to take him to this place in Tustin, that basically is the place where you take your animals when the vets can't help. Better testing, care. Stuff like that. My sister took him there, I had to go to work. I smoked before work, and it took my mind off of my babyboy. But once I got home, and walked in my door, I started sobbing. I heard slow clicking on the wooden floor, and for a second, I became so hopeful it was Reggie. It was just Chessie, walking slowly to me. She knew something was wrong. Reggie's nails against the tile floor was my favorite sound. Slow, adorable. He knew the sound bugged us when we'd watch tv, so he'd walk really slow, hoping it wouldn't be loud. It was the cutest thing. Chessie is fat, so hers is just a huge shuffle against the floor, hah. Ugh. It was really hard not having him at home. The night was difficult. I told Cassie I'd go out with her, but then my mom and sis were gonna go visit Reggie, so I was going to go, but I ended up not..I wish I did. It was nice hanging with Cassie, and seeing Courtney and Ramsey and all them. But god, I should've went to see Reggie. Spend more time with him.
The vet told us it was a serious case of arthritis in his spine. There was really nothing to do. We could've gave him medication, but that would just take away the pain..not really the fact that he can't even walk. And none of us could stick around and carry him around outside, all day. He's a huge dog, 75 pounds of love. Not even fat, a real goodlooking dog. Everyone always commented on how cool he looked, ha. Some would say like a wolf, or some dingo, hah. He was the cutest thing. Ah. We decided, after a really long talk, that we should put him to sleep. He had a really bad case of arthritis, and he was becoming paralyzed. It would've only got worse. I just fucking hate that it was so sudden. This morning was so hard. We headed to the place, and waited for Reggie in a room. They wheeled him in on a big cart, and he had a blanket over him. I felt horrible. I know he was so embarrassed having all these random people pick him up and touch him under his belly. Anytime I'd touch anywhere near his peepee, he'd squeal, haha. God, I miss that. He was such a pussy, but such a big dog. But the fact that he didn't even make a sound when they picked him up, completely saddened me. He must've known. This was serious. He looked like an old man. It was still my Reggie, but just..so old. His neck was hanging like an old man, his panting was heavy and rough. He was so uncomfortable. He just wanted to lay on his back, but he couldn't control his legs. It was the hardest thing. We loved him for a while. Told him how much we loved him, how great he is. It's like he knew. God, I can't stop crying now..ugh. I kissed his little tortilla head (the top of his head smells like a tortilla..I'm not kidding), pet him all over, hugged and kissed him. He looked so miserable. But he wouldn't stop licking us, showing us he loved us. I was so fucking sad. My eyes are so goddamn swollen. We talked about all the memories of him, how funny he was. What a great runner he was. That's what I hate..he was the fastest fucking dog. Even last week, he could've outrun any dog. And then this happened. The vet there told us he most likely had a stroke, which explains a lot. The right side of his face, with the smaller eye, ..he's lost control over it, pretty much. He can't blink, the lip on that side hangs lower than the other. He looked so sad. God. After all the time loving him, the lady came in, and injected him with the first shot, which makes him go to sleep. Not sleep sleep, but just sleep, a heavy sleep. His eyes started drooping, but they didn't close. Fuck, I wish they did. He set his head down on his leg, and on my sister's arm. I was holding his paw the whole time. Then she injected him with the shot that would stop his heart. That was so fucking hard. She told us he was gone, and ..god, I can't even type right now. We stayed with him afterwards just as long as we were with him before. I couldn't let go of his paw. He became so heavy..his body. His eyes were still open. And that will always bother me. I wish he could've closed them. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I want my fucking dog back. I'm sobbing as I write this. I want him back. He was my everything. I miss the sound of his tail against the wall, when you called his name. The funny faces he'd make when I gave him butt massages. He loved 'em. I'd pick the icky fur off of him, and he'd give me kisses in return. I miss his adorable trot, the way he ran. Like a damn gazelle. No joke. He was so elegant. And so manly at the same time. Ha. I miss him so fucking much. I can't believe I'll never have him again. I want to wake up to his cute face, sniffing me. Licking me. Me telling him how bad his breath smelled, so he'd close his mouth for me. Hah. Thirteen years spent with that loving dog. He wasn't just a dog, he was my best friend. He loved me more than anything. He knew when I was having a bad day. When my family would fight, he'd lower his head, and look at me, and wonder if anything was his fault. He'd feel the emotions streaming through the walls. He knew, something was wrong, always. No one kissed me like he did. No dog could ever love me like Reggie has, for thirteen years. I want to tell him right now that he never did anything wrong. I told him this morning, he knows. But I can't tell him anymore. I can only speak to my walls, my cold room. Sob into my pillow, talking to him like he can hear me. Fuck...He was a great dog. A great friend. He knew we all loved him so much. He was glue to this family, for me. He's a part of our house. He's a part of my family. My childhood. My life. I miss his fur. I miss his eyes. His cold nose. His cute ears. His long legs. His stance. His attitude. His presence. I want him back. I want him back.
Goddamnit, I want my dog back.
^ The day we got him. He was the cutest little thing.
Losing Reggie just makes me more depressed about my grandma also. He was her favorite dog. Her baby, too. Whenever she'd come over, she'd give him treats. Always ask how he was. She loved him, so much. I grew up with the both of them. I got Reggie when I was like, 4 or 5, and that's about the time I actually can remember memories. And so I remember my grandma from then, too. My memories with the both of them hit me so hard. I miss my grandma. And I miss my Reggie boy. I want him back. I want them back.
I hate death. I don't believe that we go somewhere when we die. I have no religion. Religion is false hope. Something the elderly tell the young ones so they can picture pretty images of death. It's not pretty. It's not always peaceful, and easy. And I highly doubt that when I die, I'll be sitting up in the "clouds", where some doode with a gnarly beard named Jesus or God or whatever the fuck his name is, is sitting in some huge chair, taking care of everyone. Please. I never really believed in any religion, even when I was younger. I wasn't one to really buy those stories. My grandma was Jewish, and my mom is Jewish. But I don't believe that just because my mom's Jewish, that makes me Jewish. There isn't Jewish "blood". That is such a idiotic thing to say. Being Jewish is not a race sort of thing, it's a fucking religion. And I don't practice it, therefore I am not Jewish. I have nothing against Jews. I love 'em, ha. I love their food, their attitudes, and all that good stuff. My grandma was adorable. People are so ignorant. I may not believe in religion, but there is no reason to discriminate on it. If you're waving your Christian pride around, you should lay off the Jewish jokes. You all believe in something. And that's great. Just fuck off and respect others. I can't stand kids at school who make fun of someone for being Jewish. It's the same fucking thing as being Christian...they are both religions. No different except the certain beliefs. People need to quit judging and hating on others. But I don't practice it. Nothing against it, just religion in general isn't for me. I won't force myself to believe all these analogies about whales and arcs and people who lived a long, long time ago. Virgins shitting out babies. No thank you. I went to church when I was in middle school, because it was the cool thing to do. The church was right next to my middle school, so everyone went there. Once I saw how into it people were, the way they threw their hands in the air and praised the Lord or whatever, I felt super awkward. The songs all sounded the same and the people creeped me out. A lady came up to me and my friend and put her hands on our back, and startled rambling and crying and speaking crazy. I was frightened, ha. That's when I knew, it was all a joke to me. And I'm not trying to talk shit..I'm just voicing myself. It's like if I don't like the same tv show as you, it's nothing personal if you like it. I don't. I don't enjoy religions. Once you die, that's it. I knew it for sure, when I completely matured, when my grandma passed. Seeing her lying in her coffin, cold and silent. I was miserable. I knew where she was going. No fluffy clouds, no pretty rainbows. No gents and ladies drinking wine, reading poetry in heaven. Nothing I'd like to believe. She was going to be buried. I kissed her lips, after several minutes of refusing to. Balling my eyes out. I didn't want to. I was scared. I finally did, and her lips were cold. But her skin was so soft, and smooth. It's such a difference. From when I saw her a few days previous, lively, wrinkly but oh, so adorable. I wasn't sure if I wanted to see her in her coffin, but I did. And for a while, I wasn't sure if that was the right thing to do. Looking back, I'm glad I did. It's reality. I grew up. I matured, so much, that I can't even believe. I completely changed. From when I kissed her cold lips to the moment I sat on her grave, knowing she was six feet below me. I realized that life is so fucking fragile. I was 13 or 14, I can't recall. But god, that was hard. So when I had the choice to see Reggie go, I knew I had to. I was so worried, wondering if it was the right thing to do. I was so fucking upset because I hated that I saw him have the stroke, I watched him go from a healthy dog to a panting, tired old man in nearly minutes. I saw it. I felt it. I held him and wiped his drooling face. So this morning, I knew I had to. I've already seen him at his worst. He knows that I love him dearly. So I held his paw, and watched him gently lay is head down on my sister's arm, and slowly disappear. The life was gone. My dog was gone. I don't care if anyone thinks it's stupid that I am devastated over my dog. It's a fucking life that meant so goddamn much to me. A life, is a life. It means everything. To him, to me. To my family. He was a part of us, as we were a part of him. And I feel horrible he had to go in some unfamiliar room, but he knew. We were all holding him, loving him. I hope he went peacefully. I'm sure he did. He had to. No struggle. God. Realizing how serious death is. How easily it can creep up on you, take your loved ones. Steal them. And you can never fight it. It's a dark shadow, and you're fucked. The moment you're born, you're meant to die. You live to die. You die to live. What else can you do, but sit around and waste time 'til it's your moment. We're all just waiting to die.
I hate it. I'm so scared.
I wish someone could hold me. And tell me everything will be alright. I'm going to "a better place". I'll see Reggie and my grandma, and all my loved ones that I've lost. That it's so beautiful. But I wouldn't believe it. I've heard that before. It's a broken record. Life carries on. It won't. And I'm so fucking scared. I really want someone to hold me.
Will I be ready? Will I know? How will I know? Will I feel the ache in my bones, the pressure of some dark spirit taking me away...the life being sucked out of me, slowly, or possibly quickly? Will my kids take good care of me? Will they appreciate all that I've done for them? Will my husband never love another? What if I go early? What if it's a few years from now? What if I pass before my sister, my parents. What if I just got hit by a car. Shot. Who would cry for me? My close friends? My boyfriend? My family, of course. Who would really remember me? Whose lives did I seriously affect, for the better? Will someone laugh at my tombstone? What would it even say on it? "Our precious daughter, a loving sister." "A wonderful mother and amazing wife." Will I be special? Who's really gonna give a shit, when it's all said and done. Dust in the wind.
How am I supposed to bounce back from this? His fur is everywhere. I smell him. I need him. I feel his presence, I feel like I'll hear the clicking of his nails against the tile in the hallway. Wake me up, Reggie. Please be here. Please be here when I wake up from this hell.
I just want to burry my head into my pillow some more. Pain killers. Dream. Take me away from this fucking day already. Just another reminder I'm a ticking time bomb. We all are.
I felt him die, in my hand. I felt the weight of his paw, fall heavily into my palm. I felt it. I gripped it. It was soft and quiet. I felt death. I watched it. I heard it. I felt it. I'll never forget it. It took my best friend from me. It took my grandma from me. It's going to take everything from me. And I can't do anything about it. I'm a helpless thing, like every other living thing in this world. Defenseless when it comes to death.
Death.
I wish I could speak with someone about this. Lay with them. Look at the sky. They wouldn't judge me. Or think they're wiser. Better than me. Just listen to me speak. Let me tell them how I feel about this world, this life we call a gift. But I'm always judged. Another negative to my life right now. No one accepts me for who I am anymore.
I've lost hope.
"You are calm and reposed, let your beauty unfold...pale white, like the skin stretched over your bones. Spring keeps you ever close, you are second-hand smoke. You are so fragile and thin, standing trial for your sins..holding onto yourself the best you can. You are the smell before rain. You are the blood in my veins."
No comments:
Post a Comment