March 9th 2013 8:54 pm
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It's been two years since my childhood friend left this world for a better one.
She was always so loyal and stuck by me, even at times when I wasn't so pleasant to be around. As a kid I sometimes had a temper and would yell at her when I was frustrated. She never held it against me. She loved me, she understood. She forgave so easily. She trusted me.
I remember how she used to lie down behind the couch. When she'd pant, the whole couch would shake. She used to try to hide anywhere closest to me during thunderstorms. She did things like bury her food on top of a flower pot instead of in it, because she knew she'd get in trouble for digging there. She even tried to "pet" me once. She reached out with her paw and as I remember tried to place it on my head.
She was a better "person" than a great deal of people out there.
It may be just a sentiment, but I like the idea that her spirit lives in me now. She always readily forgave those she loved, and she was the most loyal creature I've ever known personally. Isn't that something I can learn from? I won't let it go to waste.
Within the last year one of my grandparents and my stepdad also left this world. I don't know if dogs go to heaven or not, but I don't see why they wouldn't. I can picture Cookie up there with them now.
January 3rd 2012 5:09 am
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"We sat in the waiting room of the vet's office. Or rather, you sat. I laid on the floor at your feet, just watching the goings-on. I always hated this place. Not because of the other dogs, I was never afraid of them. The strange smells and tense feelings from other dogs, and sometimes from their humans, is what got me. Not to mention every time we came here I ended up getting jabbed with a needle or something just as terrifying or undignified. Or both.
Once upon a time I might have tried to meet the other various dogs around the room, but now I'm older-much older!, more mature...and tired.
I look around a bit. There's a dog over there who scratches himself every 30 seconds, his skin red with irritation. Another dog is constantly scratching, yet is trying to walk up to people in greeting at the same time. I hear you laugh a bit. Yeah, to a human that would seem comical. Another dog is wrapped in a blanket in his human's arms, not really doing much. He seems to be ill. Yet another dog, one of those little yap-yap dogs, is barking and growling at anyone who approaches her. She is in a crate. No cats here today. Oh well. I wouldn't end up chasing them anyways.
You reach down and pet me a bit, like you have been doing every few minutes since we got here. You seem tense and a little melancholy. I find this odd. You're obviously upset about something, but what?
Despite my failing hearing, I hear one of the other pet owners talk sadly about how he will have to put his dog down, whatever that means. At this I hear you hold back a sob. I wish I knew how to help, but for now I determine that the best thing I can do for you is just be there. I look up at you and you smile a bit, petting me yet again.
Finally, the vet tech steps into the room and calls out my name. You begin to get up, and I do as well. But as you walk towards the door the tech just came out of, I trail behind you. Do I really have to go in there? But since you hold the other end of my leash, I have no choice but to follow you. So I do. The tech leads us down a hall, stopping at some point. She tells you to put me on the scale, after which you tell me to "get up" on it. I obey, though slowly. But this is due mostly to my advanced age, not my reluctance. After writing down my weight, the tech points you to a room and tells you the vet will be with us shortly. You lead me off the scale and into this room. More waiting. While we wait you talk to me softly, petting me all the while.
Finally, the vet walks in and you say something about my incontinence just being out of control and how sad it is. I don't really understand your meaning. The vet asks you to help him lift me onto the table. You grab my front end and he grabs my back end, and together you lift me up. I am startled and want to be back on the floor, so I struggle a little bit, but I trust you with my life so I don't even so much as growl at the doctor. Once I am placed on the table, he says that I need to be turned around. By now the tech has come back into the room, so she helps the doctor do this and you step back to let them do their work. Once I am positioned, you take my collar off. The tech grabs my head while the vet pulls out some small device and drags the end of it across a portion of my front leg. My fur falls off where this device touched me.
Now the vet pulls out a needle and pokes it into my leg after a minute or two. I tense up, and the tech holds me tighter. I look at you, my eyes full of fear. You look back at me, tears forming in your eyes. What's going on? I begin to feel sleepy and, though I fight it at first, it gets so that I just have to give in. As I begin to close my eyes and my head begins to droop, I see you wipe at your eyes. The tech releases me and lays me on my side. As I lose consciousness, I feel you pet my cheek and behind my ear, trying to tell me how much I was loved. My consciousness goes completely and after a few moments I stop breathing.
I am now no longer inside my body and I see you looking at it and just barely holding back sobs. The vet and tech has left the room by this time and we are alone. You pet my now limp body a few times then sink to the floor, your face in your hands. "Please forgive me" I hear you whisper.
I cannot understand what you could be asking me to forgive you for. Sure, sometimes when I had wanted nothing more than to spend time with you you were off with your friends or something and I did not at all understand why you'd get angry with me sometimes or make me go to the vet's office, but that's what all humans tend to be like. I had already forgiven your faults because your good points outweighed them to me. And besides, it's what dogs do. Guess that's why they call us man's best friend.
Still, I guess you do not know this. "I forgive you" I say. You look up, I know your heard me. You sit there a few more minutes, still crying, but somewhat reassured. You then get up and walk out of the room back into the waiting room, taking my leash and collar with you. I leave the room as well, leaving my body behind for the veterinary staff to dispose of. I won't be needing that old thing anymore. I know you'll miss me, and I'll miss you, but I also know that we'll meet again one day. 'Til then..."
~by colliequest (AKA, me) at fictionpress.com
Wasn't sure about posting that here.
March 8th 2011 9:47 pm
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We'll be taking Cookie to be PTS in the morning. It's just like...this can't be happening, you know? She's just been here so long it's hard to imagine what it'd be like without her. But I think this is for the best...
I think she knows something is up, she barely ate anything today. We took her for a nice, long walk and let her offleash while we were out in the woods. She enjoyed that.
Cookie, you will be missed...