(no subject)
That last 48 hours have been interesting, to say the least.
Snickers died last night. His heart just gave out. I found him. Mom was sleeping and dad was out to coffee with Uncle Tom, and I found him. And he was dead. Not breathing, fluids everywhere. So I called Dad and he came home right away. We shuffled the boys up to bed without telling them anything and then tried to figure out what to do. So Dad wrapped Snickers in a rug and a blanket and brought him out to the garage while I cleaned up all the excrements and stuff. Mom was still sleeping, she hadn't woken up.
So we decided that we had to wake her, and when we did she didn't believe it. She was adamant that he was fine, he'd been fine all day, and she kept whistling and calling for him. It just broke my heart. She was so close to that dog. He meant the world to her. She didn't believe us until we brought her into the garage and showed her his body. And then she just collapsed. She broke down. Dad comforted her and I went back inside. I worked on my Physics homework. I got a lot done... which is kind of scary because when something you care about dies, you're not supposed to be able to do Physics. But I needed to get my mind off of it and off of her.
Eventually, I went back into the garage and sat with her. She was holding his head on her lap and petting him and just crying her eyes out. I tried to make her feel better, but I don't think it worked. I talked to her and joked and just watched her look at him and watched her grieve for him for six hours. She drank coffee and smoked and cried. It was so sad to watch. The dog saved her from herself so many times. He was the best thing that ever happened to her.
They were supposed to take a picture together today. Snickers and my mom. She had been wanting a professional photo of the two of them for years, but had always put it off because she felt she was too fat. And now that she's lost all the weight... That was the worst part for her, that picture. He died twelve hours before that was to be taken. And she was so sad. I've never seen her cry so much.
He's being cremated and they're going to bury the ashes in the backyard, in the little spot that she and Snickers used to sit at in the summer. And she's going to have a picture of him blown up and she wants to hang it in the living room.
This morning, when Dad came to take Snickers away, to have the vet do with him whatever they're going to do with him, she cried so hard for him not to take him. She really didn't want him to go, it was like she thought that he could just start breathing again and things would be okay.
I didn't go to school until third period. I was going to go at normal time, but Dad wouldn't let me go to school without getting at least a little sleep. I had been up all night with her trying to calm her down and comfort her and whatnot, so I was running on a cup of coffee and a brownie. No sleep whatsoever. So I got a couple of hours and went to school and all I heard was "Why weren't you in history? You better make up the test after school today. You better do it tomorrow morning then so we can have our makeup questions over the weekend." I must have heard 10 people say that to me today. I snapped at Mary Pat in English about it too. And I feel bad about that, it's not her fault.
I haven't cried yet. It always seems to go that way. I don't get the opportunity. I have to hold everybody else up so I don't get my own chance to be sad or to grieve. I'm getting kind of sick of having to be the strong one, but I will if I have to.
Zachary was torn up too. He came downstairs last night crying. He had heard mom calling for Snickers and he figured it out. He let me hold him for a minute and try to tell him it was okay before grabbing a box of tissues and going back to his room.
I don't know how she's going to get over this.
Snickers died last night. His heart just gave out. I found him. Mom was sleeping and dad was out to coffee with Uncle Tom, and I found him. And he was dead. Not breathing, fluids everywhere. So I called Dad and he came home right away. We shuffled the boys up to bed without telling them anything and then tried to figure out what to do. So Dad wrapped Snickers in a rug and a blanket and brought him out to the garage while I cleaned up all the excrements and stuff. Mom was still sleeping, she hadn't woken up.
So we decided that we had to wake her, and when we did she didn't believe it. She was adamant that he was fine, he'd been fine all day, and she kept whistling and calling for him. It just broke my heart. She was so close to that dog. He meant the world to her. She didn't believe us until we brought her into the garage and showed her his body. And then she just collapsed. She broke down. Dad comforted her and I went back inside. I worked on my Physics homework. I got a lot done... which is kind of scary because when something you care about dies, you're not supposed to be able to do Physics. But I needed to get my mind off of it and off of her.
Eventually, I went back into the garage and sat with her. She was holding his head on her lap and petting him and just crying her eyes out. I tried to make her feel better, but I don't think it worked. I talked to her and joked and just watched her look at him and watched her grieve for him for six hours. She drank coffee and smoked and cried. It was so sad to watch. The dog saved her from herself so many times. He was the best thing that ever happened to her.
They were supposed to take a picture together today. Snickers and my mom. She had been wanting a professional photo of the two of them for years, but had always put it off because she felt she was too fat. And now that she's lost all the weight... That was the worst part for her, that picture. He died twelve hours before that was to be taken. And she was so sad. I've never seen her cry so much.
He's being cremated and they're going to bury the ashes in the backyard, in the little spot that she and Snickers used to sit at in the summer. And she's going to have a picture of him blown up and she wants to hang it in the living room.
This morning, when Dad came to take Snickers away, to have the vet do with him whatever they're going to do with him, she cried so hard for him not to take him. She really didn't want him to go, it was like she thought that he could just start breathing again and things would be okay.
I didn't go to school until third period. I was going to go at normal time, but Dad wouldn't let me go to school without getting at least a little sleep. I had been up all night with her trying to calm her down and comfort her and whatnot, so I was running on a cup of coffee and a brownie. No sleep whatsoever. So I got a couple of hours and went to school and all I heard was "Why weren't you in history? You better make up the test after school today. You better do it tomorrow morning then so we can have our makeup questions over the weekend." I must have heard 10 people say that to me today. I snapped at Mary Pat in English about it too. And I feel bad about that, it's not her fault.
I haven't cried yet. It always seems to go that way. I don't get the opportunity. I have to hold everybody else up so I don't get my own chance to be sad or to grieve. I'm getting kind of sick of having to be the strong one, but I will if I have to.
Zachary was torn up too. He came downstairs last night crying. He had heard mom calling for Snickers and he figured it out. He let me hold him for a minute and try to tell him it was okay before grabbing a box of tissues and going back to his room.
I don't know how she's going to get over this.