Littlewolfbitch
Tourist
Two weeks and I still can't tell some of the closest pack mates in my life.
Bella-Blue, my hellhound and little lady and princess and the second big black dog that ever changed my life.
We knew you weren't doing well for a while now, beloved. Old age and that awful home mom took you from-- literally hopped the fence when she saw you abused and malnourished, demanded the 'owners' either release you to our care or call the cops right that instant-- would do that to anyone. We didn't care that it helped end the relationship between mom and her ex, we knew we had to help you and so we did.
Fourteen years between then and now. Fourteen years between when we had to carry around a red solo cup of food and hand feed you a few morsels at a time and when you got the last happy meal all to yourself. Fourteen years where you watched me hate myself and learn to embrace who I was. You were there between depression and surgery and so much self loathing. Did you know I sometimes stayed alive because we walked for hours? And still at the end, you were tugging forward, asking for a little more. A little longer. And for two years before you passed, you could hardly make it around the block.
Bella, my sweet. Do you know what it did to me? I had to sit next to Ginger's kennel so the vets could help you in peace. And still, after the first injection you stood up-- I knew how much standing hurt you and you still did it anyway-- and completely ignored mom though you were swaying on your feet and she was so much closer. You came to me, you stood in front of me, confused but knowing I would help you.
Like I had so many times before, I helped you lay down one final time. Your head was in my lap as your eyes closed. I could feel you snoring one more time, before the vets gave you that final injection. Babygirl, I was with you that final time your heart beat and I swear I could feel everything that made you *you* leave your body.
It hurts like a gut punch, Bella, but I know you're up there with the first dog that changed my life-- helped me learn how to walk 3 years too late and when all the docs said I'd never walk in my life-- and all the others that made a home in my heart. Rest easy baby, I love you and I'll see you when the time is right and I promise not a millisecond before then.
Bella-Blue, my hellhound and little lady and princess and the second big black dog that ever changed my life.
We knew you weren't doing well for a while now, beloved. Old age and that awful home mom took you from-- literally hopped the fence when she saw you abused and malnourished, demanded the 'owners' either release you to our care or call the cops right that instant-- would do that to anyone. We didn't care that it helped end the relationship between mom and her ex, we knew we had to help you and so we did.
Fourteen years between then and now. Fourteen years between when we had to carry around a red solo cup of food and hand feed you a few morsels at a time and when you got the last happy meal all to yourself. Fourteen years where you watched me hate myself and learn to embrace who I was. You were there between depression and surgery and so much self loathing. Did you know I sometimes stayed alive because we walked for hours? And still at the end, you were tugging forward, asking for a little more. A little longer. And for two years before you passed, you could hardly make it around the block.
Bella, my sweet. Do you know what it did to me? I had to sit next to Ginger's kennel so the vets could help you in peace. And still, after the first injection you stood up-- I knew how much standing hurt you and you still did it anyway-- and completely ignored mom though you were swaying on your feet and she was so much closer. You came to me, you stood in front of me, confused but knowing I would help you.
Like I had so many times before, I helped you lay down one final time. Your head was in my lap as your eyes closed. I could feel you snoring one more time, before the vets gave you that final injection. Babygirl, I was with you that final time your heart beat and I swear I could feel everything that made you *you* leave your body.
It hurts like a gut punch, Bella, but I know you're up there with the first dog that changed my life-- helped me learn how to walk 3 years too late and when all the docs said I'd never walk in my life-- and all the others that made a home in my heart. Rest easy baby, I love you and I'll see you when the time is right and I promise not a millisecond before then.
