That's what happens when you lose a dog, I notice. A lot of thoughts rotating in the skull, over and over again. I have two blogs to vent my thoughts on, of which this is the most obvious. So today there will be a little more repetition of things that both you and I already know – but then, I must.
I am still happy with my decision. I couldn't have done anything differently, when I think about it this way in retrospect. Or yes, could, I could have done – but it wouldn't have been pretty. Not against Ella, not against me.
The problem with that is that I can't long for her. I know she's exactly where she's supposed to be. I don't miss being worried all the time. I don't miss constantly looking out for signs that she's in pain, how she looks and how she moves today, that instead of sleeping with one eye open, she actually sleeps so that she dreams and snores, wonder why the chafing she got last winter after the noseband never heals, whether the mammary tumors would grow to any size and, if so, how quickly – and so on ad infinitum. That was my everyday life, and I don't miss that everyday life.
I do not experience rather that I might miss her in the way I had expected, or as I think I should. And that feeling is so extremely fucking strange – not to mention provocative, because it feels like I'm diminishing the love I had for my dog for ten years and three months on the date.
Because how can I longing for and missing my dog who is exactly where she should be. After ten years and three months with me, with their crappy joints and mammary tumors, she deserves to be where she is now. The time we had has passed, and I can't get it back no matter how I try. She is away – forever.
The only advantage I can see with all these thoughts and feelings that are in one hell of a mess, is that they so slowly begin to give way to – so for real, a new dog. I remember when I lost the first cat I had since she was a kitten; I told the person who came with me to the vet that I don't want her to be relegated to the mists of memory. Because the fact is that this is exactly what happens when someone dies. Sooner or later they become more of a memory than the reality we live in here and now.
And that's exactly it what is happening to Ella now. She is becoming more of a memory than my reality, and while on the one hand it is as it should be, it bothers me as much as any other loss I've been through (and they are many).
Besides, I can to say that my absence this past week has been due to me working very hard to finish the book I have been working on for quite some time. The book will partially fund my new dog, and has also served as a great way to distract me from breaking down over Ella. In other words, the project is a high priority for several reasons.
I do not really know how I should think, ahead. Maybe it's time to leave Ella in the mists of memory. After all; I want a new dog, and as long as Ella is active in my reality, however dead and gone she is, it will be crowded with a new dog as long as she is here.