A Painful Pride

Last Friday was a very difficult day for me.  I had to say goodbye to one of the only constant companions of my Twenties.  Or, as I figured it, I was having to Kevorkian my dog.  The way I felt that day was absolutely tragic.  I felt fragile and lost.  After the days I'd had in preparation, I didn't think I had any tears left by the time we arrived to the vet.  But I lost it.  I mean broke down and sobbed like I've never cried before.  Her enormous heart stopped before they'd even finished injecting the medication.  The moment they confirmed she was gone, the only emotion I could feel was lonely.

Back when I was a young and optimistic twenty year old adpopting my first pup, I guess I just always assumed that by the time she died, I would be married, or have a live in boyfriend, or own a house with a big yard and perhaps already have another dog.  I never thought, even in recent years as her health declined, that I'd be left all alone.  I don't have a spouse, or roommates, or kids.  For nearly a solid decade, that dog is who I came home to every day.  She was the one who greeted me at the door, wanting to hear about my day.  The one who laid with me as my tears fell onto her fur while consoling my heartaches.  The reason I had to get out of bed everyday, if only just to feed her and let her out.  When she died, my aunt and Sister were by my side and cried a few tears so I could cry a few less.  The incredible outpouring from family, friends I hadn't seen in years, and even a handful of demons, was something to be grateful for.  All weekend, friends and family made sure I didn't have to be alone.  I didn't even stay at home for two nights.  Still, without my baby, I felt incredibly alone.

But that outpouring has helped me to see a silver lining and something beautiful about it all. I had well wishes from countries she had never been to.  Friends from all over the US, who also spent nearly their entire Twenties with that dog, called and texted all the time.  That sweet and sometimes grumpy dog made an impact on this globe during her time here.  And I should be proud of that.  If I had never come along, she would have been euthanized years ago, never having the chance to experience a full and free life. Together, we traveled, attended keg parties, slept on random couches (and in my car), went rock climbing, snow-hiking, camping, swimming in rivers, danced at music festivals... The list goes on.  That dog lived an absolutely beautiful life and is known and loved the world over.  Thanks to me.  I take pride and comfort in knowing the two of us had a mutually loving bond, and side by side, we saved one another.  Her last few days were spent with me taking time off work to spoil her absolutely rotten and do all the things her old age had put on hold.  Just one last time.

May you always be so smug, My Girl.

Friday marked another monumental day in my life.  I should have been attending a baseball game and having beers and lunch bought for me.  It was my ten-year anniversary at my work.  Now come on, how many people reach ten freakin' years of employment at the same place before age Thirty?  Not too bad, in my eyes.  I love my career and what I do.  I may not be bringing home wads of cash just yet, and it hasn't been easy.  In fact, it's been downright painful sometimes.  But I am proud of myself and proud of what hand I have played in helping my company to become what it is.

Through all my self doubt and moments of feeling as I have wasted my Twenties, I can proudly say there are at least two things I managed to not completely fuck up.