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snaplesI called my mum this morning, because ... huh ... it'd been two days I hadn't heard from her. So we talked a bit, and she sounded very weird. Then, she says something, chokes, and is very silent for a full minute. Being her daughter, I know she's crying and trying not to show it. A thousand things run through my mind at that point, and I get very anxious. So I let her breathe and sort out her thoughts before she announced that yesterday, my folks had Cleo, our beloved Australian Shepherd, put down. She was 12, athritic, and slowing down. Plus, my folks are moving, and were afraid that a traumatic move would have been Cleo's downfall.
Now, the hard part about this is, Cleo wasn't sick or suffering. She was, in fact, still quite lively, if not suffering from hyperactivity (which the vet told us wasn't very good for her breathing at her age). It's hard to imagine that poor dog, not exactly at her prime but not exactly dying either, is now gone from this world.
I've been feeling very depressed today following these news. Cleopatra has been part of my life for 12 years. And though I'm not at home anymore (and thus the realisation that she is gone hasn't quite sunk in yet), I feel her loss very strongly.
So if you'll pardon the utter sentimentality which will follow, and which will no doubt bring Snape great shame, I had to write this out of my system:
Dear Cleo,
For 12 years, you were a silent companion that nevertheless brimmed with a vitality handlers assured us would fade after two years out of puppyhood. You were excited beyond belief over such trivial things as visits from relatives and strangers alike, food and television. While most dogs would cringe and whimper over the prospect of a needle, you salivated at the promise of a treat and managed to remain still for that tiny prick before devouring a cookie. You constantly surprised us with your unnatural ability to open closets and close them behind you when a storm hit. You accepted to co-exist with a feline that attacked you whenever our backs were turned and uttered no complaint and unleashed not one bite in retaliation. While said feline made its bed comfortably over beds and watched you contemptuously from the height of comfort, you remained in your bed by the door and did nothing in your defense. You locked us out of our house and forced us to climb to an open window and while, at the time we were very angry, the story lives on as an amusing anectode that never fails to draw a laugh. When my parents were away and I stood alone in a big house, you were there, willing and able to find that tiny comfort on my bed while giving me the security I needed. You waited patiently while the cat was fed before you, and while we had a reason to do so (the cat would often go nosing into your dish if we made the mistake to feed you first), you did not understand that reason but still trusted us to give you the food you wanted. You ate everything we ever served you with blind, loyal trust, forgetting to scent first what it was we gave you. While we had very little patience at the end, when you were slowly going deaf and ignoring our commands, you relentlessly rubbed against us for a pat, for a caress, for a kiss that I never forbade you.
I love you very much, Cleo, and hope that wherever you are, your dish is eternally full, you have wide open spaces to run to your heart's content, and that you have numerous companions to run with you.
Thanks.
Now, the hard part about this is, Cleo wasn't sick or suffering. She was, in fact, still quite lively, if not suffering from hyperactivity (which the vet told us wasn't very good for her breathing at her age). It's hard to imagine that poor dog, not exactly at her prime but not exactly dying either, is now gone from this world.
I've been feeling very depressed today following these news. Cleopatra has been part of my life for 12 years. And though I'm not at home anymore (and thus the realisation that she is gone hasn't quite sunk in yet), I feel her loss very strongly.
So if you'll pardon the utter sentimentality which will follow, and which will no doubt bring Snape great shame, I had to write this out of my system:
Dear Cleo,
For 12 years, you were a silent companion that nevertheless brimmed with a vitality handlers assured us would fade after two years out of puppyhood. You were excited beyond belief over such trivial things as visits from relatives and strangers alike, food and television. While most dogs would cringe and whimper over the prospect of a needle, you salivated at the promise of a treat and managed to remain still for that tiny prick before devouring a cookie. You constantly surprised us with your unnatural ability to open closets and close them behind you when a storm hit. You accepted to co-exist with a feline that attacked you whenever our backs were turned and uttered no complaint and unleashed not one bite in retaliation. While said feline made its bed comfortably over beds and watched you contemptuously from the height of comfort, you remained in your bed by the door and did nothing in your defense. You locked us out of our house and forced us to climb to an open window and while, at the time we were very angry, the story lives on as an amusing anectode that never fails to draw a laugh. When my parents were away and I stood alone in a big house, you were there, willing and able to find that tiny comfort on my bed while giving me the security I needed. You waited patiently while the cat was fed before you, and while we had a reason to do so (the cat would often go nosing into your dish if we made the mistake to feed you first), you did not understand that reason but still trusted us to give you the food you wanted. You ate everything we ever served you with blind, loyal trust, forgetting to scent first what it was we gave you. While we had very little patience at the end, when you were slowly going deaf and ignoring our commands, you relentlessly rubbed against us for a pat, for a caress, for a kiss that I never forbade you.
I love you very much, Cleo, and hope that wherever you are, your dish is eternally full, you have wide open spaces to run to your heart's content, and that you have numerous companions to run with you.
Thanks.
