jasminecritters-blog

[jasminecritters-blog]

Blog Post 10/7

Unedited - Stream of Conscious 

On September 2nd, my family and I had gotten back from a trip to Mahoney Camp Grounds where we spent Labor Day weekend mourning the loss of our dog. The dog of which we inherited only a year prior -that same Labor Day weekend-  after my great grandfather passed away. It was a melancholy trip. Our past dog, a six-year-old rescue whom we believed to be a cockapoo named Inky (the third) had passed in quite an abrupt and gruesome way. After just two days of acting up, we thought she was acting out in response to the school year starting again and us leaving her at home -she had real bad anxiety for such a small thing- we eventually put one and one together, but; not until the night before she passed. Just a few hours away from the vet appointment we had scheduled. 

We had treated her as if she had done something wrong, rather than something she could control, and I think that was one of the hardest things to get over after she passed. The morning she died, I was getting ready to go to my first bio lab class. I didn’t end up going. My sister, 11 at the time and quite the one for dramatics, came stampeding into my studio apartment (seated just a two-minute walk away from my house) crying and screaming how our Inky had just died. I guess I knew It was true, my sister is dramatic, not a tall-teller, but I didn’t believe it until I arrived at my front door and saw Inky’s small frame wrapped up in the doormat outside out front door. I walked inside to find my stepdad cleaning up the mess, she had spit up quite a bit of blood, to confirm the truth I saw just seconds ago. I cried, a lot.  It was rough. 

I went to class later that morning, arriving just in time for my second class of the day and spent the whole day in denial. Not ready to accept my inkerdoodles was gone and never again would she come and greet me in the mornings at 6 am, excitedly licking my face and eventually giving up, deciding to lie at the foot of my bed instead. I would never have her tired body slump against mine for support after a long day of chasing squirrels. I would never be met with her barking and yipping every time I opened the front door.  I would never have her company in the bathroom where she’d flop with a disinterested sigh on the shower mat while I peed. It seems silly really, to miss my bathroom company, but it’s what made her so special. My mom took it harder than the rest of us, but my mom being my mom, wouldn’t show it. It was hard. Still is sometimes. I found, that I cried the most when I was driving. Nothing to distract me, keep my mind busy, and that was the only goal, you know? To keep my mind busy, avoid the guilt, remorse, and sadness I felt. How silly, right? To feel so sad about something so little. 

Anyway, September 2nd, after returning from our melancholy camping trip, I decorated for Halloween. Needing something to cheer me up. I guess it worked, but now it’s October 7th, and no amount of spooky decor can keep me distracted for long enough. As ridiculous as it sounds, I think I have internalized my sadness over Inkers and replaced it with a sadness about life, college, wanting more than I am supposed to get right now. Adjustment is hard, especially without my dog. There is one thing that has come out of it all though. I have a 12-year-old chihuahua, Daisy May. I got her for my 6th birthday and she’s still kicking it. If anything, I have a new motivation to spend as much time with her as possible. Show her how much I love her, do what I can, the right way, before she passes. Maybe if I can do it better this time, it won’t hurt as much when the inevitable happens. Maybe, somehow, this is my way of making it up to Inky. Or, maybe, I am a fool who needs to get over my dog; either way, the world is of my making and I like the sentiment of the first one more.