Fourth Day

Contrary to popular belief and yes I realize it hasn't even been a week, let alone a "significant amount of time" since Jennifer's passing, but the distance from the date, August 11th seems to be getting worse rather than getting "better." Emphasis on the quotations.

In fact, I am sitting here typing this while crying, thinking about every location in the house where Jennifer used to lie down, thinking about how tonight she won't be sleeping outside my hall or in my room and she won't be in her dog bed the next morning after protecting the family the entire night. I'm thinking about how no matter how loud or how many times I call her name and rattle her leash against the washing machine, she won't come bounding through the dog door and do her little dance so we can go out walking. I'll never have a reason to go to Portal Park now. I won't have any motivation to exercise, not that I did before. But Jennifer helped prompt me and Emerson forced me to get out of bed and move quite a bit.

I can't believe she's gone.

It's funny how I keep having that revelation. I mean I thought that I would have accepted that she is gone, I mean not accepted it, but you know what I mean. Know that she is gone and will not be coming back. She's not gone at Mona's house until we come to collect her. She's gone. But I can't believe it. I can't believe my journey with her is over. For some reason, I thought she was immortal and I thought she was going to be with me for a longer time. Even though I knew one day I would have other dogs and I even talked about it before Jennifer was gone. And when I knew she was leaving. And when she went.

I miss her so much. I try to talk to her, whenever she is, and I keep telling her that I miss her and I'm trying to be happy, because I know that's the one thing she always wanted me to be, but it's so hard. But I don't want to let her down, because that's the very worst thing I could do, besides not being there when she died. I'm not really trying to be happy, I'm trying to manage my pain. Is that selfish? I'm tired of Jennifer just accepting everything I do even though I was not always the best person. I was a good person, I know that, but I feel like I failed her so many times. She's just so unselfish and so unconditional. It's something that all dogs are capable of being, but not all are lucky enough to be that way. Jennifer was one of those golden dogs that should be just as beloved and memorable and immortalized like John Grogan's Marley, but she's so not destructive or the "world's worst dog." But she's still up there. Maybe even better. But every dog owner who has lost and loved a dog will say that their dog was "special-er than yours."

I talked to Sarah and I feel calm for the moment, but I'll fall back when we're done talking. It always happens like that. I feel "good" in the moment and then I unravel again when I'm "alone." It's becoming a pattern.

But even talking to someone doesn't ease my questions and my fears for the future. There is so much uncertainly and I lack options, so I have to make due with well, not knowing the future like always or planning with what I am capable of doing. Allowed to do. I accept that a second dog is too much, but I can't accept it. Just like I accept Jennifer is not coming back, but I can't accept it. I guess I know I cannot have another dog and I know Jennifer is gone, but I won't accept either. Well not completely. To a degree. I don't know. You know what I mean?

I almost wish I had a disease...No, I mean I wish there was a clear explaination, something that people would just know and accept that I need the company of dogs, but I don't have one. People can believe what they will believe. My parents included. My mom and my dad plead with me, have pleaded with me over these last few days asking me to reassure them that I know they understand the "second dog" or at least the extent of my grieving. I know they do. They do not fear that. But I just don't know what else to say, except repeating myself over and over. Which is essentially what I have done in these blogs. I don't really see any change in myself from day to day other than...well nothing. Nothing has changed.

I miss her. I love her. I wanted to have said those things to her while she was still breathing in my arms and then I wanted to let her sleep, so she didn't have to spend her last breaths in pain. She could just drift away out of her broken body and somewhere where she was free of disease and youthful again. Even if it wasn't with me, like I wish it could have been. I wish we could have grown old together and she could have stayed with me until I grew old. But dogs leave you behind. They get older and older, far rapidly and far too soon compared to their people. You watch them and that's all you can do.

I feel naked. I feel like I've lost a part of me. I felt so much more confident with her. I didn't have to beautiful or skinny. I could look like complete crap, but I had this beautiful friend who was my best friend and loved me no matter what. And even though she loved everybody that wasn't threatening to her or me, she was always my best friend and come back to me and live with me for sure. She was nobody else's to claim. She helped me feel like I had clothes on and helped me walk with people looking at me, without feeling completely suspicious they were all judging me. Without her, I feel so vulnerable. I feel exposed and weak. I feel like I could be torn to shreds and eaten alive. I have nobody to reassure me that I'm loved no matter what and well, "Fuck everybody else. I love you. I'm right here. Nobody else cares and you shouldn't either. I care! I love you!"

But the thing is. I can stand alone. I walked by myself when she was alive and I still walk around now. She couldn't always be with me. And I'd like to think that my friends and naturally my family, have the same attitude about me. But, with friends, they still judge you. They still pass opinions over you that you won't want to hear them thinking, I know this, because yes, I do it too. But Jennifer never did. Not because she was absolutely perfect, but because she was so loving. Her heart was the biggest I knew. Dogs are that way. They don't think about what you look like, only enough to be like, "Oh there's Chinny!" They don't judge you. They aren't thinking to themselves, "I said that red dress looked good, because I didn't want to her she looks Ke$ha trashy."

And when I was fed up or felt like nobody in the house could understand me, I knew that Jennifer didn't have to. All she knew was that I was upset and needed her. And she was there. Now. I have so many options, for which I am grateful. People who care. But people aren't always right and don't always do the right thing. They want to know things and ask questions, when all you really want is somebody to just be with you quietly comfort you. When we have settled Jennifer's ashes, I can go talk to her. It's the best thing I can do now. But what if she can't hear me? I'm not religious at all. I don't believe all the time. I know Jennifer will be there, but not be there too.

My world is suddenly over. I don't know how I'll continue. It's not because I'm choosing not to function and live without Jennifer. I can't live without her. I suppose I can learn to go through the motions and not cry every time I think about her, but I can't wait to see her again. It'll be decades, but I won't forget. I won't stop waiting. Also, I can't live without dogs. Every dog after Jennifer will be wonderful in his or her own way, but impossible to top Jennifer. She will never ever have an equal, because she was just too loving and she was her own.

Sarah remarked she keeps having to remind herself that Jennifer was a dog. Me too. I knew her to be a dog, but that was only her species. She really wasn't a dog. She was her own creature, practically a person. She was so human. Dogs often are that way. They are in a way more intelligent and understanding than their ancestors, the wolves. They are so in tune and knowledgeable of humans. It's mind boggling and scientists are still trying to figure it out.