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Just a few days ago I watched a movie that was sad and made me cry. Holding Snow White for a few minutes was comforting to me. Now when real life is sad and the tears flow almost constantly, I cannot hold her and give her a hug and a kiss. All I have to hug now is a memory of how she was my comforter then.
I got Snow White because I wanted a companion at home. She definitely was that. Having her gone is so very lonely. She was my companion and entertainer and gave me a responsibility that I chose to define part of who I was. For the first time I was "Mommy" to something and I loved it. She was my baby girl. I sometimes called her a "little child of a dog". I am convinced more and more that God made certain animals specifically to meet needs in people, and when they are suddenly gone, they leave such a huge void. I feel like I lost part of myself, not just an 8 pound ball of fur.
The last time I called her name, her ears could no longer hear. It was the culmination of everything I was afraid of when I took her in for the surgery, and everything I kept telling myself I didn't need to be afraid of. I have never seen anything so terrible in my life and I know I will never forget it, but I cannot wait for that memory to fade.
I finally slept last night and I am hoping that my appetite will return in the next few days. It will be good for me to be out of the apartment. At least this weekend I expected to miss her, just differently.
I've decided that the cost of taking care of a dead body is one of life's cruelties. You carry the emotional burden of losing a loved one and then have to pay for it out of your pocketbook, too. That last $35 I spent on her is the only money out of what must be by now beyond $2500 that I resent in the least. I look at the things that I purchased for her and remember how I carefully selected things that I thought she would like. Shopping for her was fun, and a lot of love went into it. I do wish that I had property where I could bury her. It was one of the options. It would have given me a chance to make a little monument to honor the short months of her sweet little life. The closest thing I have to that is her crate full of her toys and blankets with flowers someone gave me sitting on top. It's really only that way because I needed a place to put the flowers and I gathered her stuff up so I can put it into storage. I am not ready yet to get rid of her things.
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I was working on Dan's Genealogy last night, and I found a picture of what would be his great-great grandmother with a dog whose name "Shep" and personality had been marked down for the ages in Dan's Grandpa's memory book made when he was an old man. Similarly remembered was a kitten who had adopted some portion of Dan's family and came to a rather tragic end after several moves and a snowstorm. I mention this because it's evidence to me that animals leave lasting marks on our lives, enough that we remember their place in our lives even when the years have robbed us of other memories.
I'd be the last to fault you for grieving her loss however you feel you need to do so. I think I still have somewhere, the collar tags from Heidi. I also have a picture of Zoey, whose unpeaceful death was extremely traumatic for me, prominently placed in the kitchen, and I still sometimes cry for missing her. It's the worst at the beginning, when you see them in their accustomed spots or think you feel them on the bed, only to discover that it isn't real. Then it hurts all over again - fresh pains. But, time has a way of blunting the feelings and leaving you with more warmth in the memories and less of that pain so real it is physical. I'll pray that you make your way through the worst of it quickly, and that you find companionship and kindness from those around you.
Still hurting for you.
God saw it all before it happened. He is our real comfort. He lets us go through pain and He is still the very definition of love.
He made Snow White and allowed her to be loved by you for her short life.
I'm so sad for you. I wish I could make it better for you. We continue to pray.
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