| The Batlord |
03-13-2015 02:59 AM |
Quote:
Originally Posted by LoathsomePete
(Post 1564693)
Thank you everyone, it's been a very hard day trying to process it. Everything happened so fast, she was fine this morning, it was the day she was going to get her stitches out from her spay, but there was some minor complications and she needed to go back under and get a few more put in and she never came out of it.
There's been so many emotions and feelings, but I am trying to remember that the pain of today will fade in time whereas the good memories that made up everything else will live on forever. That being said, I also can't help but feel cheated, she was only 18 months, and we only got to enjoy 14 of those months together. There were a lot of things we never got to do, like go hiking in the mountains and play in real snow. She won't be the last St. Bernard, or the last dog, but there will never be another dog like her, and it's hard to imagine waking up tomorrow and not getting to go out for my morning walk with her.
I am glad it wasn't dragged out, it was sudden and painless. She didn't suffer and she lived a life where she was never hungry, never cold, never scared, and was always loved.
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****, dude, that's awful. I had the exact same thing happen to one of my dogs. I wrote a short essay for my English class that I think sums up the way I feel about these things. Hope it's meaningful or some ****.
Quote:
Having pets is the best lesson for enduring loss that I've ever had. Up until very recently, I'd never lost an important person in my life; my mother, grandparents, friends, aunts, uncles, and everyone else who has ever meant anything to me are all alive and well. I have however lost many pets.
Ever since I was a small child my mother has been an avid pet lover, collecting numerous cats and dogs, and even the odd hamster or goldfish. I'm an equally hopeless animal lover, and so each and every one has meant the world to me. Living among animals all day every day, you get a sense for their personalities, since no two are alike, making your relationships with the little critters unique in their own special way. They're family no less than your human relatives.
So when one of them dies, it is devastating. Knowing that you will never again see the dog who would bay at the top of her little lungs, and dance like the most awkward ballerina every single time it was dinner, or no longer have to keep chicken bones in the freezer until you put them in the outside trashcan because your stupid, awful, amusingly evil cat would knock over the bin in the kitchen were foolish enough to dispose of them there, it feels like a piece of your heart is gone, never to return.
It would be easy to let these losses sour you to getting any more animals, but when your new cat gazes up at you with that haughty, mischievous cat-look of affection, and meows at you with a voice which you'd never before heard in another of their kind, your heart melts, and you just know that a new friendship has just been struck. It's not that they will replace your fallen friend, but they will fill a new spot in your soul that you never realized needed filling. The human heart seems to have an infinite capacity to forge new connections, just as meaningful as past relationships, and I have all of my animals, new and old and soon-to-be missed, to thank for teaching me to never give up on human connections (even if they're technically not humans themselves, but that's a whole other debate).
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