A Letter To My Dog

People will always tell you that it gets easier, and it does.  It truly does.  What people won't tell you is that it's a very slow process.  Not that I expected it to be easy, because it's not.  Tough nights come and go.  Tonight is a tough night.

So to sort of get my thoughts straight I decided I would write them down, and here they are.  I'd just like to say that this was extremely difficult to write.  I hope it helps anyone with a pet and enlightens the amazing things pets can do for you.

A Letter To My Dog, Shaggy

Sometimes I think about the day we brought you home.  

I remember I was called home from down the street and I walked into the house to see you.  That was Good Friday of 2001.

I remember when you were only a few months old and had the run of the house.  After two nights we decided that the crate wasn't for you, and soon enough you were snuggled up in my pillows with me.  That was my favourite.

I remember our first Christmas with you.  We bought you a bone that was half red and half green for the Holidays and you loved it.  I wanted to keep it when you left us, but Mom and Dad thought it would be best if we got rid of it.

I remember in elementary school when I would come home and you were waiting at the door.  Dad would get so mad that you were scratching at the screen but you were just excited.  The screen is still scuffed, Dad hasn't changed it.

I remember when we used to take you outside in the winter and you would get so cold in the snow that you would flop over and we would have to carry you inside because you couldn't walk, and we wrapped a nice think blanket around you when we got inside.  

I remember how every night at exactly eight o'clock, you pestered Dad for a treat.  It had to be Dad because Mom wouldn't give you more than one, but you knew he would cave and give you a few.  

I remember when you were eleven and tore the tendon in your back leg and were limping.  I was so scared, I remember crying in the middle of Canadian Tire.  The surgery was so expensive we decided to wait it out, and you healed up perfectly.  You were so strong that way.

I remember taking you to the Stouffville dog park for the first time.  A lady called you old but you didn't care.  All the other dogs were big dogs and you were small, by the time you ran over to play with them they would run to the other end of the field; you couldn't keep up.  You were perfectly okay with me sitting with you and playing in the grass.

I remember bath time.  You hated it, I know you did.  You used to put up such a fuss when I tried to brush your teeth.  It never really did anything, I guess I thought it would help your breath.

I remember coming home every hour from down the street at Christmas time because you were home alone all night.  No one should be alone on Christmas.

I remember the Christmas presents every year that we would wrap for you.  Your birthday was on New Years Eve so we just gave you a present on Christmas Eve.  You used to pull the tissue paper out of the bag, it was so cute.  I looked forward to it every year, sometimes we rewrapped it so you could do it again; you loved it too.

I remember your first seizure.  I picked you up and ran you outside to Dad because I didn't know what to do.  You settled down and you were okay.  That was a bad day for me too.

I remember your second seizure.  Six months went by without anything and I thought it was just a pinched nerve.

I remember your sixth seizure.  I was still telling myself you had pinched a nerve even though I knew something was seriously wrong.  I didn't want to see you go.

I remember taking you to the vet and being told something was wrong.  Things were going downhill quickly and I had no choice but to prepare myself for he end.  It was the hardest thing I've ever done.

I remember the first and tenth time I broke down into tears.  I was alone for most of them.  You were sitting at my feet and had no idea why I was so upset.  That made it ten times more difficult, you were so innocent.  I layed on the floor beside you through every seizure.  No one will ever know the pain of being alone when all of this was happening.

I remember when the four of us had to talk about putting you down.  You were sleeping so peacefully with no idea what was going on.  Mom, Dad, and Amig wanted to find ways to keep you around.  Surely some sort of medicine would help you feel better.

I remember saying to my family that I think it's time to let you go.  I cried the entire night before you passed.  I didn't go to school because I knew it was going to happen and I wanted to be home.  Mom and Dad took you to the vet that evening and you passed peacefully at 9:15pm.

I remember the phonecall Mom gave me at 9:20.  She was strong; it didn't surprise me.  I knew she was upset but didn't want me to hear it in her voice.  I could still hear it.

I remember wanting to say goodbye, but at the same time not wanting it because I knew how hard it would be.  I spent over thirteen years with you and there's nothing worse than knowing I was leaving the house never to see you again.  That whole night spent with my friends, you were in the back of my mind.  When the phone rang I knew exactly what it was for.  You were gone.

Despite the sadness I feel on a regular basis, I remember the happiness you gave me.  The joy you provided to this family can never be replicated.  It took me five months to get myself to hold another dog.  It wasn't you, and that made it a really difficult thing to do.

I think of you every single night.  Every time I hear a bell it hurts.  But at the same time I know that the thirteen-plus years you've given me account for seventy percent of my life, and I will be ever grateful for that.

Gramma will have to cuddle you until I get there.  But for now, I'll continue sleeping with your Scooby-Doo blanket; Mom washed it for me so I could use it.  

Talk to you tonight,

Ohan.