Thank you all so very much for all of your kind comments, messages, e-mails, cards, calls, hugs, phone calls and everything else I’ve received over the last several days. I have read and appreciated every message, and I am just overwhelmed by the many people who have taken the time to send a little bit of love and comfort our way. It really has meant more to us than you know, and I have been so touched by your generosity. And, for everyone else who wrote to me about losing their own pets, or who is going through their own tragedy, my sympathy is with you, and I hope you are surrounded by people who are as wonderful as you guys are.
It’s still hard & I expect it will be for a while. I still have a tendency to step over her, feel that little pang of panic trying to recall if she’s had her medicine or not, take entirely too many treats out when Max comes in from outside, feel compelled to run & check on her if I hear a sound like she might be having a seizure, straddle the spot where she liked to lay [… you know, the one directly in front of the bathroom sink] and I still expect to see her coming around the corner at any time. I also seem to be developing some debatably unhealthy compulsions towards Max. I’m just convinced that he’s about to up and die by swallowing his tongue, suffocate due to his ‘fleshy-palate’, fall on the stairs or develop some form of other obscure disease, and I have analyzed every cough, sneeze, wheeze, sniff and whimper until I am about to drive the boy insane. Seriously, he is about to kill me. I can’t stop picking him up, poking all over his little pot-bellied body and feeling his legs for breaks & fractures, checking his gums for color, his ears for blockage and his nose for cold-and-wet, before putting him hesitantly on the floor again. Now, when he sees me coming, he stares at me, silently screaming, “FOR LOVE OF GOD I’M FINE! PLEASE STOP POKING ME!”
I am also spoiling the crap out of him. This could disputably be a bad thing, but I don’t care in the least. I’ve taken to carrying him up & down the stairs to spare wear & tear on his stumpy legs, I’ve began suggesting to him that he should enjoy a small morsel of anything that I’m eating instead of my typical response; stomping my foot & sternly telling them to, “Quit begging, git.” If he weren’t so depressed, he would realize that he has been living in forbidden treat land since Saturday, but he’s just too sad to notice. His best buddy & pack leader is gone. We’ll undoubtedly continue to dote on him [For example: How I plan to faux fur line his crate tonight] & hopefully he’ll come around soon.
So, the family is getting better. I understand now that many of y’all know it’s just hard to lose a pet and want you to know that your condolences & understanding were integral in that. So, thanks again.
Happier topics soon.