....writing this blog last year, I made a conscience decision to try to keep it positive. Sometimes sarcastic or mean....but never whiny or depressing.
Today that is going to be a challenge.
When I came to work this morning my goal was not make it through the day without breaking down sobbing at my desk. It really freaks out my co-workers. Fortunately, none of the guys who work at the desks surrounding mine have shown up yet, because I've already failed. Twice. And it's not even 9 a.m.
On Sunday, I lost my little girl Lola.
For any of you who know me, or read my blog, you know my unhealthy obsession with my dogs. We have 4 of them. That alone indicates a slightly off-kilter compulsion if you ask me. Well, multiply that obsession by about 10 times, and you will come close to understanding my feelings about Lola.
The boy got me Lola as a Mother's Day gift in 2009. She was just a puppy. And she was the last of 4 dogs we have taken in. Much to the chagrin of the first three, she fast became my favourite.
I have no qualms about admitting that I crossed the appropriate owner-pet behaviour line multiple times a day. In the past week for instance, I've said each of the following statements to the boy:
-"I could look at her all day long. I never get tired of looking at her." (To which the boy replied, simply, "You are sick Jamie.")
-"I just love her so much. She is going to live forever. I know it."
And wait for it folks, here's the kicker:
-"I hope if I ever have kids that I love them as much as I love Lola. I'm not sure that I could ever love anything as much as her." ("Ok, we are so never having kids then." - The Boy)
This is the same dog who came everywhere with me, who owns more clothes than the Boy and the 3 other dogs combined. The same dog who I literally held in my arms all night, every night. The same dog who everyone of my family, friends and even perfect strangers fell in love with upon laying eyes on her. The same dog who had such a huge and sweet personality has made it nearly impossible to be in the house now because I can't stand the quiet.
The same dog who spent her last day going for a long drive with us through the backroads. Who met a bunch of people she'd never seen at garage sales we stopped at and who soaked up all the attention she could from perfect strangers. The same dog who pooped in the backseat of the car the one time we did leave her alone for a few minutes. The same dog who didn' tget in any trouble whatsoever for doing this because she was so cute and loveable she got away with pretty much everything. (The boy and I both agree that if there was something we could do, some trade we could make to just get her back, she would be allowed to poop all over the house for the rest of her life if it meant this weekend had never happened). The same dog who snuggled in with us as we slept in on Sunday morning. Who got us both to suck her up and she rolled around on her back, trying to be cute. Who got to curl up and nap in front of the woodstove. Who wrestled with the cat and her 2 brothers until I yelled at them to please stop. The same dog who got countless kisses in her last few hours.
Lola was not my dog. She was my little girl. She gave off so much love, and charm, so much sweetness and cuteness, so much personality, that there was no way she could have lived to be an old dog. And the only way I can explain why what happened happened, is to say that she was too good to be true.
The boy had this made for me yesterday as a surprise. I had no idea I could spontaneously erupt into tears that quickly.
To my little Lola, my peanut, my angel.
P.S. Thanks to my brother & Christina who made a donation to the Owen Sound Animal Shelter in Lola's memory. The shelter has promised to use the money to go towards saving another dog who needs it.