Why is that, when it comes to death, it's never easy?
Today I woke up, and thought - cranky - that I will have another ordinary day in front of me. However, Mum stunned me with news that she decided to euthanize Sani, our German Shepherd dog. What a fucked up way to begin the day. I thought he could get himself out of this... whatever it is - I tried, and even then, I am feeling guilty somehow, even if realistically speaking, I've done everything short of operation for him. I am inclined to say it isn't fair, but human being are selfish like that.
It hurts to see him laying on his rug, just breathing and being there, and knowing that he would pass on later this day, and it hurts knowing I won't have my canine four-legged companion to my treks to get milk. It hurts to know that he won't sit on his favorite sunspot, happy as a clam, or be his crazy self when the time comes for going into the forest. When we accepted him into our home and hearts, I rationally knew that he would have to go someday, but I am still asking myself - does it have to be right in this day? It seems as if I didn't have enough time with him, even if he was with us almost 13 years total - if he survived to this summer, it would have been 13 years.
Why is that, whenever we open ourselves for love, we also open ourselves for pain? Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it. I am remembering my kitten Lae and her broken spine, my white cat Mike and how inseparable we were, and Gray, the tomcat who loved to make me take breaks when I was stuck on particularly demanding Math problem. My lap was his favorite resting spot. And Johnny, with his long white and black fur, the old gun of our house. I am remembering them, and it hurts, because they are not here anymore, and it hurts doubly because they would get new companion today. This saying, 'if you love somebody, set them free ' is then one I am struggling with, accepting it the hardest. Love and letting go, forever, doesn't compute. But I don't wish to make Sani suffer because of cancer anymore. So, the rational - and hurtful decision that he would be gone - has fallen today. Even if we got another dog, Sani would always have a special place in my heart - he taught me that not all dogs are evil (was terrified of dogs, except when he came home like a small furball with incredibly sharp teeth and he had grown up into a 88 lbs heavy companion who was incredibly patient with me, even if I sometimes lost my nerves with his antics). He had given us so much - to Mum a respite from the home problems when they wandered through the forests, to me he was another happy furball, if annoying at times and he made me concerned when he vanished off to some of his short treks around, and he was faithful protector of our home.
It hurts! God, it hurts! It was one of the hardest things I've ever done, going downstairs and saying farewell to him - it never gets easier, no matter how you try to distance from them. They sneak in your heart, no matter how tightly you lock it. You think you have forever with them, but you always find out that kind of forever is just a very, very short moment in your life, no matter how many years you were gifted to be together.
Vaya con Dios, Sani.
I'm Still Holding You.
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