May 02, 2007 18:37
Today my dog Yuma died.
I know she's still there the backyard, I just can't see her now. I don't mean her spirit is there or anything. I mean because she's under dirt. They buried her before I got home.
I was pretty saddened when I got the news via text message from my mom. The best way to receive any sad news. My voice was strained on calls. She was and old dog. Old enough that I'd begun assuming she was immortal. I had theorized she was still alive because she fed like a vampire off the life-force of all the other pets she's outlived through the years that had either died or mysteriously disappeared.
I guess I could now start to eulogize but I don't really know what I could say that would make someone think, "Yes, I can see why she would be beloved" rather than just thinking it was just another dog. Not that you wouldn't be sad! Because you could still sympathize and remember how it felt when you lost your boring dog or just empathize. But I guess I mean that there was nothing really that different about my dog that you could think about missing. She couldn't do backflips. I don't know the difference between sympathy and empathy well enough. I'm assuming one has to do with relating your own experiences and the other has to do with just being able to understand how the other feels, but I don't know which. I don't even know if that's the case. If it isn't, it should be.
Today there was also a tornado warning. Pretty uncommon. My dog being dead: also uncommon. Logic would conclude that the abnormal weather is actually the raging soul of my dog.
And yes, I cried. So what?