dontfeartheringo wrote:My old vet used to make house calls.
She came and we put one of my dogs down in the living room, then I put my dog in the truck and drove her out to the land of a friend of mine.
I buried her there myself, in her favorite blanket.
I knew that day, just a few short months after my divorce, that I had finally crossed the line into adulthood. Digging a grave for a dog is a grownup job.
Later that night I sat on the porch and smoked a cigar while comforting my other dog (and myself) and thinking "This not-drinking thing is harder some days than others."
Wow. This dredged up a long forgotten sad memory.
Before I had a dog of my own and could truly feel the love of a little animal as being better than that of a human's, I buried my ex-girlfriend's dog.
She calls me wailing saying the dog died and I need to help her. She had just struck out on her own and was living alone in a town about 40 miles from where I lived at the time, but she commuted regularly to see me and I to see her. I remember leaving at five or six on a Thursday and getting back nine or ten in the morning Sunday. From when I got there until she fell asleep in my arms, she cried. I've never clutched a person more tightly in my life, until Corey died and my friend Mike lost his mind while I held him like a child. I'll never forget her just crumpled between my legs, the dog so peacefully and elegantly passed by my thigh. Occasionally she'd stroke his long matted hair and then squeeze the flesh around my elbow until I could feel blood gasping to be let out.
I very silently moved her off me, picked the unusually heavy border collie up, and walked to the edge of her neighborhood where there was an empty lot upon which a house had never been built despite the beautiful location very near a small pond and abundance of small shrubs. Actually, I don't really remember a pond, but when it rained for any length of time a pond would appear as if by magic. I placed the dog down when realized I forgot a shovel or digging implement of some sort. Ran back to the house, quietly opened her manual garage door. It was yellow. Lemon yellow. Gross always sticky fucking garage door. Found a shovel, ran back. Couldn't remember where I put the dog. No flashlight. Walked until I stumbled and fell right on top of the poor thing. Dug a hole. Put the dog in it. Buried the dog. No blanket, no towel, in complete silence. Second time in my life at that point I'd ever seen something buried and the first time it affected me.
Came back to the house, exhausted. She was awake. Took a flashlight and we walked to the spot where the dirt was visibly shifted and freshly overturned. She knelt down and asked me to leave as she said goodbye to her dog. The next two days I was there I could feel her crying as I tried to sleep, the one and only time I haven't cried when I think about how awful that was.
I still talk to her from time to time since she has moved to Southport in the interim of me not living here then living here again. She still thanks me for doing that. They've built a house there since then, from what I hear it is large and has massive windows.
Burying a dog will make an unfortunate man out of anyone.
R.I.P. Bud.
P.S. My heart goes out to you folks that have had to deal with addiction and things of that nature, either as the addicted or those close to the addicted. It is a terrible experience and the reality of my return to Wilmington hits every time I see the sallow face and pockmarked arms of more than a couple friends of mine. Such a terrible experience for all.
Also, severe depression is one of the most crippling things I've ever experienced. Amazing how with therapy a person can somewhat map out times in their life they were affected by it, which is something I sometimes think about and realize just how much of my life I've missed while being consumed by this disease. Coupled with the panic attacks I used to get which made me want to kill myself (and get off on making lists of just how I'd do it) throughout high school...fuck. It is a delusional, sick, fucking miserable way to live.
This is a strangely great thread. Feels good to kind of ramble on about all this shit. Especially the things I haven't thought about in a while. This EA, she's a strange beast.
