I don't know where to start. Horror movies have never haunted me like this experience has. A bad dream? I can only wish. However, I know that what awaits me when go home is no movie, but my dog. Lifeless. Bloody. So much blood you'd never know that his coat had ever been white.
Loss is a struggle with reality. I keep thinking maybe he'll be there. Maybe his big white head will be at the door. Maybe he'll be wagging his tail at the sound of my car pulling up. That's just my heart blocking out the reality. He's dead. Did he know how much I loved him? Did he understand his pain was not punishment?
Bloody paw prints are a one-way track from his crate to my bedroom door. He came to me to die. Blood splashed over my walls. He thrashed while I slept. Blood runs under the bedroom door. How long did he lay waiting for me to notice?
We outlive our pets. I am prepared for their departure. I was not prepared to fill a bucket with solution and mop my companions' blood from every room in the house.
I feel weird. I go through my day. "thank you" I say, to consoling colleagues. "don't cry" I tell myself. Don't cry--as tears drip down my face.
I'll bury him today. There will be others. I'll be okay. But for now, Good bye Albi. I feel so sad that it hurts.



Albi 4.jpg

posted by becky at 9:02 AM