Jovi P.D.
A slightly Therapy LJ post because I want to talk about Jovi somewhere people can read, mostly so I don't spew it all over people in live conversation, but don't feel obliged. The short of it is that my dog was put down on the 14th (NZ), around 7 PM. It was the right thing to do, which doesn't make me feel much better except that I don't regret it. I just am sad.
We got him when he was a puppy. I could carry him in my arms, and I was about 12-years-old. Look up samoyed puppies, they are maybe the most adorable unless you own a different breed of dog, then your dog is most adorable. He almost murdered my cockatiels out of accidental exuberance, and we had to give them away. He got big pretty fast. I took him from Australia to New Zealand when we moved, and man -- he was a pretty secure dog. He was off on an adventure and then was happy to see us on the other side.
He could howl, though, if someone went away. Very low and rich sounds. Samoyeds sing, like huskies.
And. Bark like a motherfucker. Genetically engineered to communicate across tundras, I guess.
I've been missing him long before now. He hasn't been the exuberant bouncy dog for a few years. Hips got sore first and then everything else, and he died with bad arthiritis and other health problems. It's gonna take me a long time to not immediately put down a finished plate of food for him to clean off, or get up half an hour earlier every day to take him out, or feel conscious of the kitchen's slippery floors and the lack of gate at the door. All his stuff is gone, save for a tennis ball I kept before The Purging, but it won't be that easy to just erase, when you've had a dog for more than a decade, all through your adolescence, all through some of the worst times of my life.
He was old and so it's not like I'm going to miss throwing a ball for him, or taking him out into town for people to pet, or teaching him new tricks. But like with a family member, you don't miss them because of all the neat stuff you can't do anymore -- you miss them because you loved them, they were there, and now they're gone. The drug was so fast, and he got to lie down on the cool, slippery floor (which he's been banned from doing because of how hard it is for him to get back up) and get petted and stroked until he fell asleep.
Well that didn't make me feel better, but it did make me run out of words, which is probably also good. Love you, puppy.
We got him when he was a puppy. I could carry him in my arms, and I was about 12-years-old. Look up samoyed puppies, they are maybe the most adorable unless you own a different breed of dog, then your dog is most adorable. He almost murdered my cockatiels out of accidental exuberance, and we had to give them away. He got big pretty fast. I took him from Australia to New Zealand when we moved, and man -- he was a pretty secure dog. He was off on an adventure and then was happy to see us on the other side.
He could howl, though, if someone went away. Very low and rich sounds. Samoyeds sing, like huskies.
And. Bark like a motherfucker. Genetically engineered to communicate across tundras, I guess.
I've been missing him long before now. He hasn't been the exuberant bouncy dog for a few years. Hips got sore first and then everything else, and he died with bad arthiritis and other health problems. It's gonna take me a long time to not immediately put down a finished plate of food for him to clean off, or get up half an hour earlier every day to take him out, or feel conscious of the kitchen's slippery floors and the lack of gate at the door. All his stuff is gone, save for a tennis ball I kept before The Purging, but it won't be that easy to just erase, when you've had a dog for more than a decade, all through your adolescence, all through some of the worst times of my life.
He was old and so it's not like I'm going to miss throwing a ball for him, or taking him out into town for people to pet, or teaching him new tricks. But like with a family member, you don't miss them because of all the neat stuff you can't do anymore -- you miss them because you loved them, they were there, and now they're gone. The drug was so fast, and he got to lie down on the cool, slippery floor (which he's been banned from doing because of how hard it is for him to get back up) and get petted and stroked until he fell asleep.
Well that didn't make me feel better, but it did make me run out of words, which is probably also good. Love you, puppy.