Recovered from FB Draft: June 1, 1999 - August 11, 2010

My mom insists that Jennifer will forgive me, because I wasn't there when she died. I wasn't there when she died in the Schorows backyard covered in burrs and succumbed to cancerous convulsions. I wasn't there for all of her last days.

This was not how I intended or envisioned her death to be like. I wanted her to be comfortable and without pain, in my arms surrounded by family in our home or resting in a clinic so she could be spared from whatever illness had attacked her.

I didn't want to go to Hawai'i. I wanted to stay home and care for her, but I wasn't allowed to.

I wasn't allowed to stay behind with her, because my dad insisted that I had be with the family.

How was I to know that August 6th was the very last time I'd see Jennifer. I thought she'd be OK and I thought I'd come home late on Saturday, August 14th to take her home. I thought that she was stable, not good, but stable. I thought I was prepared for her death, whenever it would be and I thought M.S. was out of her mind when she was worried about "hastening Jennifer's death" or thinking that Jennifer would die in her care.

What did I know.

I didn't get to say goodbye.

August 14th I'll be coming home to an empty house and sometime after I will go to the S's to collect all of Jennifer's belongings.

I've been blogging and beating myself mentally and emotionally all summer about this. Ever since Jennifer's accident and afterwards and before. I never thought about her death ever until I suddenly realized that she wasn't 100% anymore. When I realized that she was old and was not young anymore or able bodied.

When Jennifer was overnight in the hospital it was horrible. Terrible. Sleeping alone in my room without her in the hall or in my room. Nobody to feed. Nobody to walk. She hadn't been able to go on walks during the summer. Maybe longer. I can't remember exactly. Her leash hasn't been used in forever, I almost forgot about it. When she was gone in the hospital, it foreshadowed what life would be like without her. And I hated it. I couldn't stand it.

I can't believe she's gone. I know she is, but I can't believe it.

Jennifer has been with me since I was 9. She has always been there. She was always huge to me, I never remembered how small she really was. Only my parents, because we were about the same height when we were growing up.

I guess I just never realized that after a while, we stopped growing together. She just left me behind and kept getting older. Without me.

It's seems so unfair that dogs don't live as long, and other animals like horses can live up to 20 years or more. You would think the larger the animal the shorter the life span.

My mom and I thought so long and so hard, worrying if we did anything to cause Jennifer's cancer or shorten her life. Maybe it was the hormones in the raw beef we gave her. Maybe it was the raw diet in general. Maybe we didn't take her to the vet enough. Maybe we didn't exercise her properly.

But it wasn't any of that. She lived 10 years in perfect health without any blemishes or blips. And it was this last year, the final year of her life when suddenly she aged like 5 years in a few days and then just fell into sickness. For that I am grateful. At least she did not live two years or more in a limiting or painful way.

And she was beautiful. She always was beautiful, maybe not as perfect as she used to be. She had a growth on her right foot and a melanoma on her eye. But she was beautiful and adorable. She always had been. She didn't look old, not until you saw her move. She did not lose much of her color, but she did become more blond. But she had no silver or graying to show her age. She was still chocolate, maybe a little more milky than before, but she was chocolate.

I am so thankful for Mona's hospitality and her loving heart. My dad wanted to put her in a kennel when we were going to Hawai'i. What if we had put her there? She could have died in a crowded, unfamiliar, noisy environment. And instead, she died with a family whom she was familiar with and with a cat whom she did adore (Spinner has never really liked Jennifer, but Jennifer had always made an effort to try to befriend the S's cat) and one of the only dogs whom she liked, Maverick the beagle.

She had a wonderful life, the best life I think a dog could have. And the last year was not at all how I imagined it to be, but she got to go places and meet people and eat good food. She had hearty meals and a ravenous appetite. She met my friends in college and met Lauren's new dog, Emerson who made her feel young again and whom she befriended much to my delight. She got to go to Half Moon Bay and to a party. She got to spend the summer with me and I with her

And although the latter is comforting, I think she lived longer than she had to and I kept telling her she didn't need to keep living for me, to make me happy as much as I appreciated it, but I didn't want her to suffer. That was my greatest fear was her living just to make me happy. Because I didn't ever want her to suffer and after working at the shelter and understanding euthansia, I wanted to do the right thing, when she was ready. I wonder if maybe, although she would have wanted us to be with her, she didn't want us to see her die. Most dogs do not. Dogs usually go off to die alone and withdraw from the living and light, to a cold, dark solitary place, which is exactly where Mona's sister found her when she had passed and where Mona had observed her to venture the day before the 11th.

I am comforted as much as I am disturbed and continually upset by the fact I never got to see her or hug her one last time, because I was so sure she wouldn't pass when I was gone. I'm so tired, I have no energy or enough emotion to do anything more than cry now and then. I don't even want to talk about yesterday when I got the news. August 11th will be the worst day of my life and I will never go to Hawai'i over August 11th. I don't know if I should blame my dad. Part of me does. Part of me truly hates him. He had his love of his life, Tasha, a sheltie and he got to be with her when she died. But he took me away from Jennifer. He took it away from me. And I cannot forgive him for that. I shouldn't be here in Hawai'i. I should be at home and Jennifer should not be in a freezer, she should be at home in her Jasmine plant, because of everything in the backyard, she loved that Jasmine bush.

I don't know what to do after that. After settling Jennifer's body. I don't know what to do. Everyday until August 23rd, I have to pack and prepare for Mills. I have mixed feelings about the year. (my dad is yelling at me now that I should be eating dinner with the family) I am excited, but I don't know if I'll be able to come home. I don't want to think about home without her. Not having a dog was reoccurring fear and discussion topic with my mom and family. I have cried and tried to be logical, practical and reasonable, but although I understand that having another dog is not necessarily appropriate for multiple reasons, it is something I don't think I can function without.

I am not one of those girls who says she loves animals and wears shirts with animals on them or has Poodle lovers attire like old ladies at the Kennel Club who organize like Standard Poodle events. I don't need to wear advertisements on myself to let people know, broadcast to the world that I am fond of animals, of dogs and of course, Standard Poodles. I don't know how I survived without a dog for those years when I was cognizant of dogs and their importance. But I knew from whatever point in my young life when I began my dog campaign, that dogs were not only important to me, but were going to be a permanent fixutre in my life. I am not the kind of person who can grow up with a dog and when they die before or during college, be sad and when the pain lessens, go on with life dogless until a career is established and a home is purchased and perhaps a family is born and then when the kids are gone and are happily retired, get a dog. Or perhaps a dog would occur somewhere between home purchasing and family being born. I cannot do that.

I can try to help people understand my relationship with Jennifer and how important dogs are in my life, but that is really necessary to know is that I need them in my life. Jennifer and I needed each other. She wouldn't let me pick any other dog. I don't believe in all that crap, but it had to be. We picked each other and that was that. I had to have Poodle, because I had developed severe dog allergies and when we visited Jennifer's breeder, she was one of two pups left. She had picked me and would not me even consider her brother, William, who I remember very vividly to be extremely pathetic and wimpy.

Life without Jennifer is unimaginable, but I have to manage without her, because she was needed elsewhere and it would have been the cruelest, most selfish thing to have forced her to stay alive for my sake (through medical intervention). I however, cannot manage without a dog being with me.

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December 5, 2010

This still makes me cry. I still miss her. And I still speak of her with difficulty. And when people talk about her I wish they wouldn't because it's so hard to talk about her, even though I love talking about her and hearing about her.

The backyard has changed so much and we were changing it so it would have been better for her, but it's going to be "Buddy" who reaps the benefits of the change.

I hope she would have approved of him.

I feel like a part of me has totally died and maybe will be born anew. Or maybe I'm waiting for that to happen.

I feel really lost right now. And just utterly miserable. I can't think. I don't know what to think anymore. I'm all feeling, all emotion right now. I don't give a shit about what anybody thinks or who cares and who doesn't.

I've probably just shot myself in the foot. It's not like I should be surprised or shocked. It's not like I didn't see it coming. I was asking for it.

It's all up to "Buddy" now. And that's a very scary thought.