It finally happened. Sandi, the dog God created and orchestrated for me, my partner in crime for 15 years who went to college with me, lived in 3 states, went to all the barns and most of my jobs, has been gone for a couple of years now. In some ways it seems like those years have been a blip. Did they even happen? Can time exist without my best dog? I finally miss her.
Sandis last few years were hard. Watching her deteriorate was a constant weight on my shoulders. I vividly remember coming home to a house covered in bloody diarrhea just 3 years ago. I was so frustrated at the inconvenience of it all, spending my only 2 hours of “me/work time” cleaning disgusting floors, feeling like a victim of life on my little soapbox, and in the middle of it Sandi came and stood right in front of me. And I saw it. I wasn’t a victim. Life and God weren’t picking on me. This is just life and part of having and loving an animal, and right now it seemed like the animal I loved was dying. I grabbed the sides of her head and pressed my face into hers and sobbed. My girl was drifting away, slowly being eroded by the battering of age and time and I had to watch it happen day by day. I cried for the for the pain she was in, for my hurt at watching her suffer, and for the looming unknown of a decision I prayed I’d never have to make…a decision I finally did make. Her pain was too great. The obstacles of townhouse life with stairs was too much. The quality of life was all but gone.
Except she lived to please me. When she could hardly walk on her own and we made the decision, people said I would know and I would feel at peace. People said she would tell me. But what I saw when I looked in her eyes was a dog that lived for me and if I was alive, that’s where she wanted to be. The decision felt so wrong even though logically it was right.
I haven’t missed her, because to think of Sandi was to think of the years of pain. It was the memory of my best friend deteriorating while my life moved on. I didn’t miss it.
It’s been 2 years, and in the last couple of months I’ve started missing Sandis celebratory run fits when I finish riding my horse. I’ve missed the way she pointed at every bird or cat and I had to constantly yell and call her off. I’ve missed the way her body fit perfectly against mine when we snuggled in bed together. I finally miss her. And I’m grateful. Because for me, missing her means I’m remembering the good times, and that’s what a legacy like hers deserves.
God is good even in the pain,
Sarah
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