I really miss my dog. And you know, I really don't think it's fair. I mean sure, technically it is. And he had a really long, really good life. He was loved, he was spoiled, he was happy. But I just wish I could have had a little bit longer.Although I'm sure I'm not the first nor will I be the last person to wish that about anything. I guess I just still hate the fact that I wasn't home when it happened. I think in the long run it's best because I can't imagine how hard it would have been. Mom said he couldn't even stand up, and that it was very pitiful and heartbreaking, but I wish I could have at least rode with him to the vet's, sort of had the chance to "say goodbye". I think I'm just lacking closure. Since the last time I saw him he looked fine, normal - maybe just a little stiff in the hind legs, but he'd been laying down for awhile - it's just so difficult to believe even now that between when I left and when I came back he got so sick that he had to go to the vet to be put on an IV. And it's even more unexpected that the next day he was gone. Just gone, just like that.
I suppose "that's life," it's "how the cookie crumbles," just "the way things are," or whatever other cliche phrase you can think up. But when it all comes down to it, that just doesn't help, does it? I mean does that actually make anyone feel better? Maybe in time, but when it's still in the first few months?
I can shake my head and tell myself, "Don't be silly. That's just life,"
but I get no satisfaction or comfort out of it. I'm glad that it happened naturally because I just don't know if I would have been able to make the choice to put him down, even if it was what would have been best. Maybe if I'd been there when he got bad; if I saw that it could have been different. But as it is, I just don't know. I think I would have been too selfish, I would have wanted to him to stay as long as possible.
Cowboy was the best dog ever. I desperately miss him. Every time I see puppies I want one. I don't want to replace him, or put off the grief. If you know me, you know I already cry plenty over EVERYTHING, and my best friend is no exception. But I desperately miss feeling like I have a dog of my own. We still have another dog, and I feel bad for maybe...not appreciating her as much as I could. But the difference between her and Cowboy (besides the fact that I grew up with Cowboy) is that I know Cowboy was all mine, specifically, because I begged and begged.
I feel like I don't have a buddy anymore. It's just...different. It's different than if he had just shown up.
I know it's not an easy thing to get over, and it never will be. But I just wish that somehow it could be. I don't think I'll ever not miss Cowboy. He was special, he was incredibly unique. He was protective but gentle, loving, smart, playful. I hate that he's not here right now. But I don't hate that he's no longer in pain. And at least he knew I loved him.
The Best Dog That Ever Lived
and my best friend.
October 1995 - February 25, 2008