the guy who made me cry on valentines day

today i went to get the stitches taken out of dog. back to the vet. i felt that i would hold my own, i had already gotten the bad news, so there was nothing new to get upset about. i would be fine. don't you think? and hey, we were going to the young, good-looking vet, not the old grouchy one. how bad could it be? snip, snip, dog treat, drool, dog treat, dog treat, done. which is exactly what happened, except that mr. vet started talking about the course of the disease and how one day, probably sooner that i had thought, i may have to bring sayers back so they can euthanize him.

he made me cry, and cry, and snot all over the place, and cry a little bit more. it was terrible. but at least he gave me some kleenex. man, i'm such a cry baby. and i really hate crying in front of people, for whatever reason. i may have a stoic or two in my family. or used to anyway. the stoics have died, along with some of the non-stoics, which is probably why this is so hard. he is just a dog, and yeah, i'd be a mess regardless, but somehow it seems like a last straw. dogs aren't family, but they're loyal. and sayers is special because he's tied to a past that i have a hard time remembering. i had him when i still had my whole family. grandma was always afraid that the puppy would take her out, walker and all, as he went racing through the house, lap after lap. my mom knew this dog, she helped me raise him and put him on the truck on my sixteenth birthday when it was time for him to go. and when sayers came back four years later, he kept my dad company when the house was empty and he was so lonely.

silly as it may sound, losing this dog is going to feel like a break with the past and starting all over, and who will be there? your parents will always be there for you. your dog will always stick by you. life's a different deal without that sense of belonging to more than, well yourself. because what is the point in that? of course, i am not alone. there is my sister, my aunt and auntie, and wonderful friends. there is a god whose love for me i continue to learn, sometimes despite myself. but there is still something to be said for loss. it is not the last word, but it is significant, it must be swallowed and digested. you recover, but you can never regain what has been lost and so the void will always ache a little bit, sometimes a lot. i am finally learning this and learning to accept it, but it has been a slow, hard lesson. there is nothing worse than finishing a good book. you want more, you want the story to continue, or as paul harvey would say, "the rest of the story." and usually, the rest of the story is quite unexpected. so i guess we'll see...