Damn you Rachel Lucas!
I sat on my front porch with my blackberry (yeah, I’m that much of a nerd) and cried today because of Rachel Lucas’s dog. A dog I have never met owed by a person that I don’t really know. I’ve read her blog and often feel like I know her, but I don’t. And dammit I am still crying and running snot like a faucet. I’m gross and red and puffy because she had to put down this dog that she loved so much. It doesn’t help that Digger looked an awful lot like my sweet Pepper that I lost a few years ago, but that’s really not it. Pepper never got so bad. When she knew that it was her time, she left on her own. Other things in life at the time were unfortunately more pressing and I think on some level she knew that I couldn’t deal with her dying at that moment. She climbed the fence with her worn out hips and left to die alone. I looked for her, but I never found her. Not really knowing what happened to her was horrible. She had been my dog since I was 16. She had been the litmus test of boyfriends. If she didn’t like them, I didn’t need them around. I should have paid more attention to her in that regard. But she loved my husband from the first time she met him. She would actually obey him. I was the only one she had ever obeyed previously. But because life truly sucked at the time of her departure, I never got to really mourn her loss. Sorry for anyone reading this, but that still feels a little too personal to share on the internet. But her blog didn’t really make me think about my dog.
I am sitting here bawling in my home office because dammit if Rachel’s feelings about the whole thing didn’t make me think of Granddad. And yeah, I know that sounds really stupid. But when she talked about how hard it was to leave Digger alone in that room at the vet’s office, I saw Granddad. All alone in his hospice room. We had packed up all of our things, and everyone was ready to go to my aunt’s house to just be there with each other. I felt awful just leaving him there alone with these strangers. He was dead. It was just his empty shell. But I still wanted to be with him so that he wouldn’t be alone. I know that was just me. I wasn’t really ready to let him go. I’m still not. He wasn’t alone at all. He was finally and completely free of pain. It was wonderful for him, and it still is. He isn’t alone. It’s me that lost him. I’m the one that still wants to hear the stories he had to tell even though most I had heard a thousand times. I’ll probably always want just one more. He looked so small, and that’s not who he is in my memories. Only his hands looked the same. Taking him to hospice care was the right decision, but I am so glad I didn’t have to be the one to make it. His first day there, he told me that he was still going to fight, but the truth of the matter was that the battle had already been lost. He was in hospice so they could keep him comfortable while he died. He made the decision to go himself. But while he was there he begged for all of us to get him out of that bed and give him a chance to live. He couldn’t get out of the bed. If we had ignored everything and gotten him up, he would have collapsed in agony. His back was broken. He was riddled with cancer. There really was no more that could be done. We buried him not long ago. The box was far too small to hold the man that he had been. His body was cremated and buried just 2 feet below the ground.
It’s amazing to me that love is so boundless. The grief for a lost pet is no less real than the loss of a person. It seems that it should be. But the pain really is the same. While Granddad was dying, I lost my pet betta. I made the comment to my friends on the daily kitten that it just seemed so small. It really felt like the least of my worries considering everything else going on. But Lynn said to me, “Nothing you love in whatever capacity, is small. So sorry for your loss MM. Love Lynn.” I’m not sure I really loved that fish. I’ve loved fish before, but I didn’t really form a true attachement to that one. But the sentiment is so very, very true.
I’m so blessed to know God. As a Christian, I know that God is love. I know from experience that love is boundless even in my limited capacity. I can really love the dog and the owner of said dog when in reality, I don’t know them. I can be loved by the amazing community on the daily kitten when I don’t know them in the real world. I’m not sure they know how much their comments and prayers have meant to me. And I have these amazing people that I have met in the blogosphere. Like Megan from CastoCreations. I got the opportunity to reach out to her and share some pretty raw emotions. Love isn’t limited to our households or our families or even to our species.
Rachel, I don’t know if you will ever read this. I hope you do, and I also hope that you understand that although I would love for you to find God, I am not attempting to convert you. You have asked before why Christians choose to be Christian and not something else, and that is a really good question. I’m a Christian because God is love. The love that is being poured out from your commenters; I believe that is God. The undefinable, unexplanable arms that embrace you at that moment when you are at your lowest; that’s God. God understands when no one else does. At least, the God I believe in does. He understands because he created all of it. And He understands my doubts when I am in the dark places. The muslim god doesn’t. Budda doesn’t. Only my Christian God does. No one else’s god is love. I cannot fathom a world that just created itself by chance. And because we as His creation have such an amazing capacity to love, our creator must have even more. I will continue to pray for you. This loss is great because you have loved. Thank you for the opportunity to love you too. (In a completely non-gay sort of way)
Damn you Rachel Lucas!