The Next Day

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 S's 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 Mona 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 hospitals for a few days. It was horrible. Terrible. Like shit. 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 euthanasia, 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 fixture 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. I feared Jennifer would grow upset when Emerson was visiting

(pause due to being summoned to dinner)

but Jennifer remarkably accepted him into our daily life and showed no jealousy or was not upset that I was having to spend more time with Emerson. Walking him was certainly something that absorbed a great deal of my attention, but she knew more so than him, that she was always first. She always was first. I'm so glad that she and I were able to enjoy him together. She really did like Emerson, she always looked for him and tried to play with him. She let him bug her to a great extent and even tried to sleep in his crate. She shared her home with him and the fact that she let him share me, in her very needy state, makes me believe that she was trying to tell me that it was OK and perhaps she knew that I had to let her go, physically. I don't know. Maybe I'm just reading into it too much.

It's so hard. I don't think anybody is born into this world or lives their life, most of the time, thinking about how hard it will be when your most precious someone dies. We aren't ready. We're never ready. And when it happens your world ceases to exist as you once knew it. Suddenly all you wish is just one more moment with your precious one and you just yearn and reflect on every moment with them.

Today all I wanted was to talk with someone, but my family ignored me and I didn't know who to turn to. So I talked to Lauren. She understands and knows just what to say, she's so much better than she realizes she is as helping someone who's upset. I'm so glad. She has Emerson whom she told me really misses Jennifer. She said he saw a chocolate poodle in the park and got all excited, but sulked when he realized it wasn't her. That really warmed my heart as much as broke it. Emerson is so young and doesn't realize he'll never see Jennifer again.

I told Lauren what it means to me to have a dog:

"You'll know what I mean. It's hard to explain, but your family is like an alternate version of my family and Emerson will always be your friend and will always always know what to do

He'll never ask you why you didn't get A's

Or why you can't be skinny

Or why you don't have a boyfriend yet

And as much as he likes all of your friends, he'll never backstab or cheat on you or bad mouth you.

He's the greatest friend in the world when nobody else is.

That's why I love dogs so much."

I don't really know what I want to do from here. I have made the decision to go into the shelter on Sunday, perhaps after a lunch of some sort with my parents' friends. I'm not looking forward to it, because I don't really feel like talking about it with adults, because adults get all gushy and religious (you can't combat with kids can do the same thing also, because all of my friends are 18+). Don't get me started on my dad and Tasha. He got to say goodbye to her. Mine was stolen from me. Anyway, I feel like I'm going a little crazy.

There's a dog at the shelter named Puggles who is a Poodle Mix and is 12 years old. Lauren and I both had the same initially reaction, "Nobody is going to adopt her." Well, that's very true and yet somebody adopted this supposedly 12 year old collie mix. I'm building up false hopes and hoping maybe I can spend some time with her and my parents will agree to let me have another dog. I don't really think it's the right thing to do, but I don't think it's the wrong thing to do either.

I will miss Jennifer for the rest of my life and I hope, should there be a Spirit World of some kind and I don't go to Hell, that I will be reunited with Jennifer and I hope she's one of the first creatures I get to be with again aside from my family and friends. I know that Jennifer always wanted me to be happy. She always wanted me to be happy which is why she let me go to Hawai'i in the first place and knew I was trying to do the best I could for her and how much I loved her. I know she knew, but I fear that she won't forgive me for not being there with her before she died. NO, don't go in circles. Second dog. Go.

Second dog. A second dog. It will be hard to top Jennifer and because she was the first dog I ever had, she will be impossible to be replaced or favorited. Not that I intend to do either, but I'm just saying that although I haven't owned more than one dog yet, I don't think I could say that the relationship I have with any other dog could be closer than the one I had with Jennifer. I know it's not possible. Every dog after Jennifer may know me thoroughly, but not understand me to the degree that she did. But I don't want any other dog to. I don't want any dog to be better than her.

I can't do it. I just can't. I can't live without her. Everytime it hits me that she's gone, I just lose it. She's gone. She's never coming back. I'll never see her again. She's frozen in time, on August 11th an ocean away from me. I'll never hug her again or kiss her nose or know that she can hear me say, "I love you." I'll never get to see her eyes, her eyes with the blue pupils and red copper irises. I'll never walk her through my old school grounds or through the park. She'll never be able to come camping with us again or come with us to the ocean. I'll never have to assemble her meals, painstakingly done with love. We'll never have to stock up on raw meat or inquire about butchers who sell dog bones or organ meats. We'll not have to worry about finding a dog sitter or cleaning the carpets because the Proin suddenly got past her.

I can't stand it. I can't believe she's gone. I miss her so much, so much more than my sister or my mom or my dad. I miss her more than I have missed anybody my whole life and no pain I have ever felt has hurt as badly as I do right now. She was the most unselfish creature I have ever met and the one who could love me without hesitation or expectation. I'm just afraid I didn't love her enough and I didn't tell her enough and I didn't care for her the best I could. I regret all those times I didn't walk her or didn't clean up after her in the backyard. And I hate myself so much for all those times I was embarrassed when she made a scene after seeing another dog and wishing she wasn't like that.

I can't believe how much harder the second day without Jennifer is compared to the first. I thought the first was the worst and the second would be better, but it's totally reversed or maybe is about the same. I just want her in my arms, next to my bed, but that is a selfish wish. She needed to go and she needed me to let her go, because that was the kindest thing to do. She was suffering in her body and struggling to get enough air. She couldn't do the things she loved apart from eat and be near us. But my dad robbed her of that. We left her behind, even if she was in someone's loving care, we weren't with her. I wasn't with her. But all I was waiting for was to go back home and worry about her so more.

Lauren was sort of right now that I think of it. It was better for her to die with Mona than die with me in school and I would not be able to return at all. But then if that happened, at least she would have died with my parents and Lianne. But either way, she wouldn't have died with me there. And she did live so much longer than we had initially thought she would after the accident.

I just wish I knew she was doing well now and is happy. She was always happy to be with us and now that she is not, I fear she is not happy. I hope she is and will stand to wait for me. I don't think anybody else she cares for is dead yet. Maybe Lassie, but Lassie never liked her. Maybe they can wait together for Tracy and for me.

But other dogs. I think Jennifer understood that I would have other dogs after her and that I needed dogs. She also knew I needed her or else I don't think she would have fought so hard for as long as she did to live. She loved having Emerson visit and he too. She looked for him when he was gone and seemed to miss him, which made me relieved, because I was scared she'd hate me for bringing him home when she needed me so much. She's so unselfish.