He’s Not There

He’s Not There

Atticus died on Saturday. Well, we had him put to sleep. The vet had a special room that looked like a tiny living room with a rug, couch, chairs and a lamp. The lighting was low and the doctor and vet techs were unobtrusive. It was intimate.

I lay on the floor next to my chocolate boy, stroking his face and telling him how much I loved him as they gave him a sedative. Peter and Hadley were there too petting him. (Finn didn’t want to go.)

Our vet gave him the final injection and it was over in 15 seconds. Hadley covered him with a blanket that was in the room.

I was crying, but quietly, until my darling Peter said “Bye, buddy” and I lost it.

Peter settled the payment while Hadley and I walked to the car holding hands. I told her I was glad she was with me.

Driving home I noticed the clear, beautiful day as Peter Gabriel’s Solsbury Hill blared from the stereo.  I could hear my sweet Hadley singing in the backseat.

Sunday was filled with Easter hustle and bustle and I was distracted and busy. I pushed sadness from my thoughts. At my sister’s house for brunch, my family offered condolences and I thought I was ok. Logically, I had accepted it. Emotionally, I hadn’t.

I woke up this morning and he wasn’t there. Next to the bed on the floor, on my side, where he has slept for the past 12 years. Every morning, I would open my eyes, look over and see him patiently waiting for me to wake up so I could feed him and let him out. As soon as we made eye contact, he would get up and nuzzle his face in the side of the bed for a pet.

I felt empty.

I got the kids off to school this morning and I was finally left alone to grieve. 

I miss my friend. I’ve never loved an animal like I loved him.  In the chaos of this life of mine, I could always count on him to keep me grounded. We’d catch eyes across the room and I’d know that he was on my side and I’d be ok. He was here through our marriage, babies, moves, lupus, my dad’s death, cancer. I don’t think more tears could be shed on a dog.

He also made me incredibly happy and for that I’m profoundly grateful.

RIP Atty. You were such a good dog.