Thursday, January 2, 2014

Yaya con Dios, Sani

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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