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.