Startling Discovery

I realized a week or so ago, in light of our recent loss of my beloved Pandora, that Scamp's anniversary of both his birthday and euthanasia have come around, and for the first time, I had forgotten it.

That's not to say I've forgotten Scamp, my childhood Shih Tzu who trooped along to the admirable age of 17 - no, his picture is hung right by my door so I see it every time I leave. His quilt, that I made by hand just for him, that he and only he has ever laid on, is hung over the headboard of my bed. I think about him daily. And here it is, five years later, and I completely forgot two extremely important days in my life.

And I'm thrilled.

I take the loss of every single pet extremely hard. My mom, when I was younger, told me "no more pets," simply because I become a wreck. This rule, I might add, did not stay around long. ;) Because even in the severe, heart-wrenching pain of losing an animal, you still have those years and years of joy that they have brought into your lives. I do not want to live in a world without pets. I'm sure many of you feel the same way.

I see my oversight as proof that I have finally moved on. Yes, five years later. I had Scamp from the time I was 6 years old, until I was 23. We grew up together. He knew all my secrets. He was my first baby boy, and he will always hold a very special place in my heart. Worst of all, I had to make the decision to euthanize him - quite possibly the most difficult decision I have ever, and will ever, have to make. To this day, even though he was suffering terribly, I feel as though I killed him, because, essentially, I did. For at least a year it plagued me daily what I had done to such a trusting little dog who had done nothing but offer me his entire heart without hesitation. Every year for four years on his birthday, I ached for him. He was euthanized the day after his birthday, so the next day would be even worse as I relived the visit to the vet's. Over. And over.

I still get emotional and choked up thinking about it. And to me, that's good. It means to me that he made an impression upon the world, that at least one person is sadder for him having left it. I think of my little baby boy often, and how, wherever he is now, he's moving along without pain, with perfect vision and hearing, and wondering what's holding Mom up. I hope he doesn't get too irritated with any other pets that are waiting with him, because he'll be the first one to get a great big squeeze from me. But until that day, I remember all the pets I have lost, with a tug in my heart, and the knowledge that no matter how badly their deaths may hurt, they brought me endless love and joy while they were alive.