Where wild minds come to rest
His name was Blackie (or Blackey as my sister spelled it) and he was one of my best friends. I'm not sure how I'm ever going to get over his death or if I'll be able to connect/love another pet as much as I did him.
He had surgery a month ago to remove bladder stones but began deteriorating the last two weeks. After going to the vet three days ago and being told his symptoms were "normal," we decided to take him again Tuesday morning. We were then told that this whole time he had prostate cancer and it was aggressive. I couldn't believe it. I broke down. How could this be when the previous doctors and tests didn't detect it? I was in disbelief and he was in pain. He didn't sleep the entire night, trembling with pain and vomiting the pain meds. We decided to put him to sleep.
I still can't believe it. After we took him out of the body bag the vet had supplied and buried him, I stashed the bag because it smelled like him. I stood outside crying, smelling the bag, and repeating his name. The night before, I thought I could will him better, I thought I could will him to have at least one or two more good days, so that his last day was a good one. It didn't happen. He got worse and we couldn't stand seeing him like that.
Now I walk aimlessly inside the house as I imagine he did when we were not around. I am lost. I spent the last month caring for him and he helped ease the depression and anxiety that had reared it's ugly head. He was my saving grace through out the 11 yrs he was in my life including during the death of our other two dogs.
Now he haunts me. I can hear his breathing, his snoring, the scratching of his nails against the drawers. I get up and I look for him. I looked for him when I got out of the bathroom to make sure I didn't step on him. I looked for him as I ate to feed him a few scraps. His smell is in the air. He was the only reason I walked outside. One of the only few reasons I ventured outside at all. I close my eyes and I see him. He was always so happy, so full of life. A puppy at heart despite his age. I look back with guilt thinking I could have walked, cuddled, spent more time with him.
I loved him and he loved me unconditionally. These past two months as I struggled with depression, anxiety, and insomnia, he always gave up his bed or let me sleep next to him. He was so loving, so sweet, so pure.
Blackie. I love and miss you boy. It hasn't yet been a day and already I dread living without you. Thank God, for my mother and sister.
His name was Blackie and he was the most beautiful, loving, happy creature that could ever be.