Just writing.

Things are slowly getting better. I think. Daddy is taking Bucky’s death really hard. She was the baby of us and we all knew it, including her. I keep dreaming of her and sometimes it seems like she’s still around.

Yesterday, I walked into the kitchen and looked where her food bowl use to be and expected it to be there. I keep looking on the couch, expecting her to be there , looking out the window as she always did. The other day was really tough, mama made me give away all her things. One good thing has happened, since she passed, I no longer have social issues, although it’s hard to keep it all together. I spoke to our neighbor, about her death and gave her all of Bucky’s food, leash, etc. I’ve spoken on the phone, to strangers, family everything with no problem.

People tried to tell me, it’s just a dog. But she wasn’t. I always felt she was like my baby and I treated her like one. I use to hold her and sing a lullaby to her and she’d fall asleep in my arms. I use to talk to her and her little head would tilt to the side and she’d just look at me like she understood everything I said. I miss how she’d scratch on my door to come in, or if was just opened slightly, she’d push it open and walk in with me. I miss how she’d stick her little nose under the door if I was too busy to let her in, I miss how she’d roll on her back and stay there till I rubbed her belly. I miss her little howls when she wanted attention.

I spent most of the day yesterday outside laying next to  her grave, I thought I got a sunburn, but I didn’t. I was out there for a little while before I started writing this, just trying to feel close to her again. We put a big rock over her grave to be sure no coyotes tried digging her up and today I took a marker and wrote her name on it and put little hearts and such.

I’m grateful for the nine years of pure love and happiness she gave all of us. I’ve been going through her pictures, just thinking about all the things I shouldn’t have done with her.

I can think about her a lot and not be upset, but when I recall watching her suffer and die, I lose it. The vet knew and he didn’t tell us. Even I knew from the beginning it was Congestive Heart Failure but he told us she would be fine, I trusted him over myself. But I knew she was going to die. I was thinking last night, the way she was twitching before letting go, I figured that was because no oxygen was getting to her brain and her frontal lobe was being damaged. I knew when I checked her gums the day before and they looked blue, she was dying but I told myself I was wrong and being over-protective and worried as I always was with her.

This place feels so empty and lonely. I loved that dog more than I loved myself or even my parents. She was like my child and I lost my child.

She was so pathetic looking before she died. She started losing weight already, she had food all over her from when I force-fed her, you could see in her eyes how they lost those bright stars, she never looked so old and I could see she was miserable.

I have a locket in the shape of a heart and I put a bit of her hair in there so I can have something of hers.

Writing about this helps me feel better. So thank you to anyone that has read it.

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2 thoughts on “Just writing.

  1. I don’t think I have anything interesting to comment, but I wanted to let you know that I read the post and I think you’re doing great! She’s becoming part of you, somehow ;-)

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