Poppy

I'm not mad right now. I'm intensely sad and hurt.

I'm sad because my dad and ex-step mom and her boyfriend had to put my sweet Poppy girl down today. She had internal bleeding, a tumor and blood clot in her head and she never recovered from her seizure yesterday. My dad texted me earlier to tell me. I was raking with Henry. I was in shock; sad but mostly in shock. I was driving to a friend's tonight when it started to sink in. She's gone. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks the entire way there. She was my first dog--the naughtiest by far, but also the most gentle. Her heart was huge. Her smile was visible. Her jet black coat was shiny after eating a dozen raw eggs one day. I'm missing her already.

I'm hurt because I never got to say goodbye to her. I used to go over and kiss her ears 100 times and then tell her I love her because I never did know if I'd be returning to that house. I never did, except for in June to feed her while my dad was gone. I'm absolutely positive my last words were "I love you," but that doesn't feel like enough. Why couldn't I be with her, holding her as she took her last breath? That's why I'm hurt. Because being with her was not even option. She was no longer my dog, apparently. She was somebody else's--three peoples actually--my dad's, ex-stepmom's and her boyfriend's. She was always my dad's, but she was most definitely not my ex-stepmom's and her boyfriend's. She was MINE. MY puppy. I grew up with her. She grew up with me. I feel betrayed and confused and hurt.

I'm not really sure where to go from here. Her death represents so much more than just the loss of my best girl--and I hate that. I want to only focus on that grief but it's forcing me to revisit feelings that I thought I had pushed away for a very long time. My armor is off for some time now but I will rebuild it slowly but surely.

Human

I'm not sure who's reading this little blog of mine. Perhaps complete strangers, happening upon these pages after random Google searches, perhaps people I know. Either way, I can see pageviews and while some posts feel like top-secret diary entries, part of me likes knowing that someone out there is reading the words I write. This is one of those posts where part of me hopes nobody ever sees it and the other part hopes the whole world reads it because what I feel, what's going on in my little world, are pure and real and raw. I'm so very human.

I'm not sure if my mom meant to tell me this way, or if she thought she had already told me, but she handed me a piece of paper (an application for financial aid) that contained the words "her (my) father is filing for bankruptcy." Anger. Fear. Embarrassment. I immediately got online and researched more about this concept that I'd only seen in movies or heard of when referring to Twinkies. More fear. Will he be living in a tent for the rest of his life? Google never answered that one for me. I'm still wondering. I just want this money shit to be over. I keep telling myself: these are not. your. problems. But they kind of are. I just have no control over them and I need to accept that and move on.

On another note, my Poppy girl, my very first and sweetest dog, is dying. Frequent seizures and couldn't get up tonight. I know it will be soon. Death is inevitable. It's just so damn hard. I just want to hold her and tell her I love her a million times and tell her that she made going over to that house bearable for so many years. I love her for that. I love her velvet black ears and her deep, throaty bark. I love the way she jumps like a spring when she hears the word "walk." And I hate, I fucking hate with every fiber of my being, the fact that I haven't seen her in MONTHS and probably will not see her again because I cannot get myself to go over there with those people there. That's vague, I know, but that issue deserves its own post. I just still can't get over the way things have turned out. When I sort some things out in my head, I'll be back here, hopefully with a more positive post. Thanks for reading.