All dogs go to heaven

A patient told me at work the other day that the pain in his foot was equivalent to that of child birth. I laughed at this statement and quickly asked him if he had ever experienced child birth. He had not. But the more that I thought about that statement, the more that I thought about how I don't really remember the pain of child birth. While I know that it was painful, I can't remember the exact pain. Do you know what I mean? And I believe that the reason that we don't remember the exact pain is so that we will eventually want to have more kids because if you could remember the pain, you certainly wouldn't want to experience it again.

Child birth pain is not like that of the pain that you experience when you lose someone that means so much to you; that is pain that I can remember and carry with me everyday. 

As you probably already know, we had to put Onyx down the other day. While his heart and mind were still strong as ever, his body had begun to work against him. I can say, without a doubt, that was one of the hardest things that I have ever had to do. There is something so heart wrenching with having to say good bye to a life long friend that has done nothing but love so unconditionally. Especially one as amazing and true as him. I told Jared, after we were done burying him, that I was so tired of feeling this way, as the pain crept back with full force. And then I prayed for peace....

As I sat there, on the cold, tile floor holding his head while the vet injected the anesthesia I was immediately brought back to night that we were called to the hospital the night that you died. When I received the devastating news, I fell to the floor; a tile floor not dissimilar from that of the one in the vet's office. Another common factor was the devastation that I felt in those two moments. He went peacefully, although it took a while for the drugs to take his life due to his strong heart and his insatiable will to live for us. Not unlike your own death, we were told that you didn't feel anything due to your prolonged unconsciousness. This statement to me, in hindsight, seems humorous. I know it is what doctors and veterinarians are told to say, "They didn't suffer or feel anything", but how is that fact supposed to make me feel better about the fact that I now have to go into the world minus a large chunk of my heart. Perhaps I am just too selfish. 

As soon as we got home from the vet, I went immediately to Onyx's food bowls and dumped what little food was left in it in the trash can and then washed them out. I picked up his filthy, dusty, hairy bed and stuffed in the corner to be dealt with later, when the pain subsided. Its as though I thought in my mind that if I got rid of the reminders that the lump in my throat and the sickness in my stomach would also go away. 

Though I didn't do the same for you, I do remember the first time that mom and I ventured into your room at your dad's house, it was about 5 days after you had passed. Mom had wanted to collect a few items of yours to take back with her. We laughed about the fact that there was a bra at the top of the stairs right when you walked into the loft, oh how you loved your bras. Later we discovered a pretty impressive collection of bras stuffed in a drawer. You would go to restaurants and "order" the free items, such as bread or chips and salsa and beg for gas money, but you must have had at least $800 in bras up there! As we looked around, I imagined what you were doing before you left the night that you died. Your room was a disaster and I was slightly terrified of what might be lurking up there but as I shuffled through your unkempt and wildly piled bed spread and sheets, I discovered the book "The Hunger Games" and I remember feeling so saddened because you had only made it to page 42 and I just know you would have loved those books. Beside the book was a trail of crumbs that led straight to the two boxes of Girl Scout cookies that Reagan had given you not more than a week before. Samoas. It was when mom pointed out that you had an amazing pile of pajamas that I got the idea to make the quilt. So after collecting the pairs that I wanted to use and a few t shirts that I remembered you by, I shuffled through the books on your book shelf. It was a strange collection of "Captain Underpants", Nicholas Sparks books, and like twelve dictionaries...okay not twelve. I took your copy of "Little Women" because I always used to say that our relationship was so like that of Jo's and Amee's in the book; that and we both loved that movie. It was during another trip a few weeks later to your room that I couldn't bear the look of it any more, that and I was rightly concerned that if not picked up that those cookies would eventually attract any number of unwanted house guests, so I reluctantly cleaned it up. I put your dirty clothes in the hamper, arranged you desk, untangled your sheets and brushed the crumbs from your bed. After I was done I looked around and said out loud "Chelsea is going to strike me down with lightening for cleaning this room." I have not returned to your room since. I'm not even sure that it is a conscious decision that I haven't, I just haven't.

Onyx July 12, 1999-July 17, 2012

As we buried Onyx, near the playground where he would so loyally sit and watch Reagan, I thought about how you would always call him "Uno" for two reasons: 1) because you said that he looked like an "Uno" not an "Onyx" (even though, mind you, he was a BLACK lab) and 2) because you changed his name years ago (in your head) because he was your dog and you always took care of him (this was, of course the biggest load of BS). I would always yell at you not to call him that because such a small brain could get easily confused. 

So as I said good bye to yet another family member the other night, I told Onyx to tell you hello and to make sure to tell you that his name was Onyx. The sad thing is that even if he did tell you, you probably greeted him with the name that you bestowed upon him so many years ago, "Uno". 

I like to think that he got a new pair of legs to run with and you got your "Uno" to keep you company until we can all be together again.