I struggle to write this as I can
barely think of this past weekend’s events without welling up with tears.
On December 1st, I lost my best friend. What a way to start the most joyous and amazing month of the year. My dear Chiquita, was over 15 and a half years old and I saw it in her eye. Her frail and aged body couldn’t do it anymore. She was exhausted and tired and ready to go back to God. I couldn’t stand seeing her like that anymore. I didn’t know if she was suffering, but I was sure her quality of life was minimal. I didn’t want to come home and find her lifeless body in a corner of my room. Secretly, every time I came home I was always fearful that she would no longer be in my world any more. I would never wish this upon my most despised enemy; I had decided to put her down.
I’ve thought of this day before. I knew it would come one day. And yet, as much as I tried to prepare for it, there is nothing in this world that could prepare you for the pain, heartache and misery that this necessary decision brings. The insane part is that whenever I thought of my future, Chiquita was always, always included. Somewhere along the lines of my prepping for her departure, I failed to remove her from my plans for the future.
This "dog" was my best friend since I was 11. Eleven. I'm 26 now. This tiny 6 pound Chihuahua was, in ways, my spouse. I came home to her daily. Slept next to her. Took complete care of her. I loved her more than I’ve loved anyone or anything in this world. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this is what unconditional love was.
Every morning, I would gently pick her up, in efforts not to wake her, from under my covers and kiss her and hug her and tuck her into her bed. I knew at the time that this was a routine that would not last forever and yet I don’t know what I would give to have that one more time. On the mornings I didn’t have work, I didn’t realize, until now that is, that when I would wake up, the first thing I would do is look around for her. If I didn’t see her walking around or in her bed, I would start to feel around in my bed. Whenever I’d take a shower, I would always leave the door cracked a few inches, knowing well enough that she would push the door open, always pushing the wastebasket to the side (which I would always hear) and come in to sniff around. Clearly, I was wrapped around her paw. These tiny habits are killing me now.
Her last night with me, I brought her a taco truck taco (I had been feeding her tacos lately since I wanted her to gain weight and keep eating). We sat on the floor with her bed right next to us. She ate up her taco while we had a bedroom picnic with her. I laid my head next to her and cried. I knew that this was it. I knew that my time with her was so very limited. The next morning I made some bacon and attempted to give her some. She declined. She wasn’t interested. I spent the day with her cuddled in my arms or laying on my chest. And then, the howling began. She would howl every 20ish minutes. And then it became more often. The sound of her frail howl will forever haunt my mind.
At 4:30 pm, my mom, dad, boyfriend, Chiquita and I gathered at a local vet. I couldn’t control myself. This was easily the absolute worst day of my entire life. Within moments she was gone. I decided to take her home so that we could bury her in our backyard. I didn’t comprehend completely that her body was now soulless until I was getting ready to wrap her in her blanket that I realized. I picked her up and I felt her limp head rest on my shoulder.
My (wonderful) boyfriend dug a hole in my backyard and we buried her. I’ve visited her every day since. I know she’s not actually there anymore. But I like to believe she is.
I don’t know how anyone who has lost a parent, a child, or a best friend has pushed through. This pain is so overwhelming and tremendous. Almost disabling…
Everyday so far has been a struggle. I keep waiting to wake up, but I don’t. The feeling of being an orphan keeps nagging at me… Completely alone, lonely and abandoned. I pray these feelings are one-sided and she’s having the time of her life in doggy heaven.
On December 1st, I lost my best friend. What a way to start the most joyous and amazing month of the year. My dear Chiquita, was over 15 and a half years old and I saw it in her eye. Her frail and aged body couldn’t do it anymore. She was exhausted and tired and ready to go back to God. I couldn’t stand seeing her like that anymore. I didn’t know if she was suffering, but I was sure her quality of life was minimal. I didn’t want to come home and find her lifeless body in a corner of my room. Secretly, every time I came home I was always fearful that she would no longer be in my world any more. I would never wish this upon my most despised enemy; I had decided to put her down.
I’ve thought of this day before. I knew it would come one day. And yet, as much as I tried to prepare for it, there is nothing in this world that could prepare you for the pain, heartache and misery that this necessary decision brings. The insane part is that whenever I thought of my future, Chiquita was always, always included. Somewhere along the lines of my prepping for her departure, I failed to remove her from my plans for the future.
This "dog" was my best friend since I was 11. Eleven. I'm 26 now. This tiny 6 pound Chihuahua was, in ways, my spouse. I came home to her daily. Slept next to her. Took complete care of her. I loved her more than I’ve loved anyone or anything in this world. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this is what unconditional love was.
Every morning, I would gently pick her up, in efforts not to wake her, from under my covers and kiss her and hug her and tuck her into her bed. I knew at the time that this was a routine that would not last forever and yet I don’t know what I would give to have that one more time. On the mornings I didn’t have work, I didn’t realize, until now that is, that when I would wake up, the first thing I would do is look around for her. If I didn’t see her walking around or in her bed, I would start to feel around in my bed. Whenever I’d take a shower, I would always leave the door cracked a few inches, knowing well enough that she would push the door open, always pushing the wastebasket to the side (which I would always hear) and come in to sniff around. Clearly, I was wrapped around her paw. These tiny habits are killing me now.
Her last night with me, I brought her a taco truck taco (I had been feeding her tacos lately since I wanted her to gain weight and keep eating). We sat on the floor with her bed right next to us. She ate up her taco while we had a bedroom picnic with her. I laid my head next to her and cried. I knew that this was it. I knew that my time with her was so very limited. The next morning I made some bacon and attempted to give her some. She declined. She wasn’t interested. I spent the day with her cuddled in my arms or laying on my chest. And then, the howling began. She would howl every 20ish minutes. And then it became more often. The sound of her frail howl will forever haunt my mind.
At 4:30 pm, my mom, dad, boyfriend, Chiquita and I gathered at a local vet. I couldn’t control myself. This was easily the absolute worst day of my entire life. Within moments she was gone. I decided to take her home so that we could bury her in our backyard. I didn’t comprehend completely that her body was now soulless until I was getting ready to wrap her in her blanket that I realized. I picked her up and I felt her limp head rest on my shoulder.
My (wonderful) boyfriend dug a hole in my backyard and we buried her. I’ve visited her every day since. I know she’s not actually there anymore. But I like to believe she is.
I don’t know how anyone who has lost a parent, a child, or a best friend has pushed through. This pain is so overwhelming and tremendous. Almost disabling…
Everyday so far has been a struggle. I keep waiting to wake up, but I don’t. The feeling of being an orphan keeps nagging at me… Completely alone, lonely and abandoned. I pray these feelings are one-sided and she’s having the time of her life in doggy heaven.
