This post was originally published on my old site, Catholic Butch, on October 30, 2018.
A quick warning before reading this post: it contains mentions of animal death. If this is something that upsets you, I recommend treading lightly or skipping this post altogether.
I have grown up surrounded from dogs. When I was born, I was born into a home with people who adored, cared for, and lived alongside dogs.. My household dog count has never fallen below two for as long as I can remember.
A quick warning before reading this post: it contains mentions of animal death. If this is something that upsets you, I recommend treading lightly or skipping this post altogether.
I have grown up surrounded from dogs. When I was born, I was born into a home with people who adored, cared for, and lived alongside dogs.. My household dog count has never fallen below two for as long as I can remember.
I am also an incredibly emotional person. Now, that might be my cross to bear, or it might just be a symptom of being a teenager. I don't know right now, and I'll either figure it out eventually or it'll be a mystery forever.
I only mention those two facts about me in that order because today we let my oldest dog, Sarge, go. He was twelve years old when he was diagnosed with Osteosarcoma in July, and he had had arthritis for a long time beforehand. For as long as I can remember, he was a stubborn, silly, goofy, ornery, loving asshole of a dog. He got into more fights than the rest of our dogs - probably because he started most of them.
I only mention those two facts about me in that order because today we let my oldest dog, Sarge, go. He was twelve years old when he was diagnosed with Osteosarcoma in July, and he had had arthritis for a long time beforehand. For as long as I can remember, he was a stubborn, silly, goofy, ornery, loving asshole of a dog. He got into more fights than the rest of our dogs - probably because he started most of them.
His cancer only got worse after his diagnosis as the mass on the back of his back leg kept growing. It made it harder for him to walk around and he became restless, trying to walk around even when the cancer refused to let him.
As he adapted to his struggles, I struggled with his inevitable loss. I choked back tears whenever I saw him struggling to climb up the stairs. I even had a dream involving St. Francis of Assisi appearing to me and my causing Sarge to be Thanos-snapped out of existence. That dream made me stubbornly believe that his time would come within the next few days - but, since that was at the end of August, I would say my premonition was incorrect.
I loved that dog. I loved him so, so much. Using the past tense in reference to him doesn't feel right - I still love him. We all did, and do love Sarge.
I don't have much more to say past that. I just urge all of you reading this to love your dogs while you have them. They might be complete assholes, but appreciate them for what they are - a life, a roommate, a best friend. Take every single second you have with them as a blessing, and occasionally just spend some time brushing their fur and spending simple time with them. They'll appreciate it.
x
No comments:
Post a Comment