(no subject)
There is an emptiness in my future, lurking about the Christmas that's yet to come, the New Years, the every otherwise triumphant trips to my childhood home. An absence that will be felt more fiercely than most presences ever could be. There will be no wet nose at the screen door basking in the smells of Christmas lunch, no sitting on the back porch calming a large furry beast frightened by fireworks and thunderstorms.
My dog was put to sleep today, and though I moved away for university and it's been months since I've seen her, I miss her. It is like a part of me has died too. I am filled with regrets. I wish I had said goodbye, instead of telling her to be good, telling her I'll be home soon, telling her to stay for me, wait for me, promising I would come to see her again in time. I wish I'd had more time with her. She will not wait by the gate for me ever again, will not grumble amiably as I stroke her fur and settle her down for the evening. She won't wave her tail, filled to bursting with happiness to be with people who love her. She won't revel in the simple pleasure of an unanticipated biscuit, or preen to be told she is pretty. She is dead. No one who has not known the unadulterated joy of the companionship a dog can provide would understand this grief. My parents cry like it's the loss of a third child. Her expectations of life may well have been less than that of most people - she demanded only food, and company, and a place to rest - and by those standards her life was rich indeed.
There will be people who think it is silly to feel the passing of a dog so keenly. She was one of our family and now she is gone - I cannot express it any other way. Though she lived only a little over ten years, she wound her way into our hearts with her gentle and sweet nature. I keep expecting to see her - despite tearful phone calls from home breaking the news, I feel like I'll walk past the door and she'll be there waiting to be let in, and it hurts anew remembering she is gone and she will never be there again. It's not quite real. While I don't believe in an afterlife for people, I find it almost impossible to believe her irrepressible personality is simply gone. I feel like she is sitting beside me, shoving her large head into my space, her warm chest against my arm, licking at my tears, not tolerating my strange behaviour for a second when there are bellies, chins and ears to be scratched.
Marta, sweet little girl. I know you knew you were loved, and I know that you loved. You were simple, sweet, good natured. You were wimpy, devious, a greedy guts, a loyal guardian and a staunch defender of your people (however hard of hearing, however cranky to be caught asleep at your post). You were wary of strangers, and I don't know how I'll ever trust a new boyfriend again, without letting you first determine your opinion. You will always hold a place within me, and if I can hope to be one-tenth the soul you are I will be a better person than most. Vale, my good girl, my sweetheart. Goodnight, Marta-Marta, rest well.
My dog was put to sleep today, and though I moved away for university and it's been months since I've seen her, I miss her. It is like a part of me has died too. I am filled with regrets. I wish I had said goodbye, instead of telling her to be good, telling her I'll be home soon, telling her to stay for me, wait for me, promising I would come to see her again in time. I wish I'd had more time with her. She will not wait by the gate for me ever again, will not grumble amiably as I stroke her fur and settle her down for the evening. She won't wave her tail, filled to bursting with happiness to be with people who love her. She won't revel in the simple pleasure of an unanticipated biscuit, or preen to be told she is pretty. She is dead. No one who has not known the unadulterated joy of the companionship a dog can provide would understand this grief. My parents cry like it's the loss of a third child. Her expectations of life may well have been less than that of most people - she demanded only food, and company, and a place to rest - and by those standards her life was rich indeed.
There will be people who think it is silly to feel the passing of a dog so keenly. She was one of our family and now she is gone - I cannot express it any other way. Though she lived only a little over ten years, she wound her way into our hearts with her gentle and sweet nature. I keep expecting to see her - despite tearful phone calls from home breaking the news, I feel like I'll walk past the door and she'll be there waiting to be let in, and it hurts anew remembering she is gone and she will never be there again. It's not quite real. While I don't believe in an afterlife for people, I find it almost impossible to believe her irrepressible personality is simply gone. I feel like she is sitting beside me, shoving her large head into my space, her warm chest against my arm, licking at my tears, not tolerating my strange behaviour for a second when there are bellies, chins and ears to be scratched.
Marta, sweet little girl. I know you knew you were loved, and I know that you loved. You were simple, sweet, good natured. You were wimpy, devious, a greedy guts, a loyal guardian and a staunch defender of your people (however hard of hearing, however cranky to be caught asleep at your post). You were wary of strangers, and I don't know how I'll ever trust a new boyfriend again, without letting you first determine your opinion. You will always hold a place within me, and if I can hope to be one-tenth the soul you are I will be a better person than most. Vale, my good girl, my sweetheart. Goodnight, Marta-Marta, rest well.