The Little Things Seem To Be The Hardest... Options

[mmholt]

Moving her crate out of the house. Washing her blankies and stuffed toys. Waiting for them to call so I can pick up her ashes. Knowing that when I vacuum next, that will be the last time I vacuum up her hair. These are the things that make me cry. I didn't cry when I saw Sissy lying lifeless in her kennel. I didn't cry when my husband zipped her into a body bag to keep her safe until we could get to the crematory. I feel like I am going crazy. I just want to stay in bed all day, forever.

I keep playing that whole night over and over again in my mind. I'd just gotten out of the shower, and I realized it was way past the dogs' bedtime. We sent our son out to bring the dogs in. I mentioned to my husband that Sissy was due for her shots next month, and then our son came in and said "Daddy, Sissy won't get up." Before all the words were out of his mouth, I knew - my son's almost 14, and hasn't said "Daddy" in years. And I could see in his eyes that he knew she was dead but didn't want to believe it. I think a part of him was sure that his Daddy could fix it, like Daddy always could fix everything. But not this time.

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[mmholt]

Thanks, all of you, for your caring, and for commenting on how pretty my girl was. That picture is from when she was 5 - it's the best picture I have, almost like she was posing for the camera. She looked great all of her life. It's only in the last couple of years that she went grey around her face, and she was a little thinner than in that picture, but she was beautiful til the very last.

My son is doing better, but he's being so hard on himself. He doesn't feel like he spent enough time with Sissy when she was here, and now she's gone, so he has a lot of (unfounded) guilt. I think we all do. We just moved a few months ago, and we are getting ready to relocate again, so we haven't been spending as much time with the dogs as we did back in the city. I have to keep reminding my son, and myself, that we have every evidence that Sissy was a happy dog who enjoyed her life and left it peacefully. She had her good looks and excellent health right up to the end, and died in her sleep with a full belly after a really good day - what more could we have asked for our good girl? Heck, I hope we can all go out like that. Still, it's hard to be grateful when we want her back soooo bad.

I still haven't been able to vacuum - I just can't bring myself to erase the last tangible evidence that she was here. I don't care if the house smells doggy - I want it to smell like my Sissy forever. I did get the toys and blankies washed. My son has asked if he could have her collar and her favorite toy - we let him have them (and he's sleeping with Sissy's ducky right now). The lint trap on the dryer was full of her hair. I could not throw it away, so now I have a baggie full of dog hair from the dryer. That's just nuts, but I just couldn't put it in the trash. I still can't believe this is hitting me so hard. I'm not even a dog person - I'm a cat person who married a dog person. My husband and son are allergic to cats, so we got dogs. I just never expected to love them so hard.

My husband is an undertaker, and I'm surrounded by death every day. Two weeks ago, I did a lady's hair for her funeral and helped put her in a casket. The week before, I bought baby clothes and diapers for a 2-month-old girl who'd been accidentally smothered in bed by her parents (someone rolled over on her) to be buried in. I take calls in the middle of the night from weeping wives and bored nurses, and every one of those calls means that a person has died. I only feel a vague sort of pity for them, and here I am now just destroyed by the death of a dog. I feel so guilty now that I don't feel more for the people.