Sadie, My Sweet Girl

I remember the first day we got her: me, Steph, Graeme and Mom got in the car and drove for hours, or what seemed like hours because we were all so young. She was the one wearing a yellow ribbon. We were originally going to get the dog that was wearing the pink ribbon, however, when my mom laid eyes on the dog in the yellow, she just knew. And I remember going home that my brother, being only four years old, cried because we were taking her away from her mom, her family.

We didn't name her for awhile, we were waiting for something to pop out at us, something characteristic so her name would have meaning. It came after we realized that she loved sitting in the shade, so we called her Sadie, which was taken from shady.

And Sadie spent the last 12 years with us, just being a part of our family. That's what my brother didn't fully understand the day we got her, we weren't taking her away from her family, we were bringing her into our family, her family.

And now she's sick. She got old, sure, but she always our puppy. She was always the same gentle, kind, loving dog. But now she's sick, and she won't get better. She won't ever get better. And I wish she would, I wish so hard that she would, but she won't. We have to put her down tomorrow. Tomorrow. I just found out this afternoon that tonight is the last night she will ever be in our lives. I will never get to see my puppy again after I go to bed tonight. And I can't handle this. I can't stop crying. I just can't stop.

And the worse part for me is looking into her eyes, her eyes which used to be so full of life and so full of joy, eyes that have become empty, vacant, glassed over, and knowing that she doesn't understand. She doesn't understand why we're so sad, although she tries to comfort us, and she doesn't understand that after tomorrow, she will never see any of us again. We will never see her again. I'll never see her again. I'll walk down the stairs tomorrow morning, expecting to see her laying down on the floor, as she always is in the morning, but she won't be. She will never greet me again, she will never be with me again. And I can't change this, no matter how hard I try, I will never be able to change this. And my heart just breaks because of this, and tears just spill - and no matter how hard I try, I cannot stop them.

I hope you rest easy Sadie, my sweet, sweet puppy, and I know you can't understand how much you've changed this family - but I sure wish you could. You've made us happier than anything else, and we will all miss you so much. And we will always love you, and remember you. I will always love you, and remember you. And I would give anything not to have to say goodbye.

"Not the least hard thing to bear when they go from us, these quiet friends, is that they carry away with them so many years of our own lives."

Do you know how impossibly frustrating it is to want to write, and yet, words can't seem to come out in a coherent sense? No matter how hard you try, the words that miraculously manage to form on to the paper are completely dull, and hopelessly contrived. And then you feel angry, angry that you can't express yourself, angry that you can't write, even though it is the simplest thing ever, and it's what you were born to do. Angry that you can't be who you once were, and have stories, thoughts, desires, just spill out in this perfect poetic prose. And then you just feel like giving up, so everything that you want to say remains bottled up, and festers inside of you. It just festers, and festers, and festers until you start crying, slam down your laptop, and hate yourself. Then you actually give up entirely, and before long you just stop writing and lose a piece of yourself completely, a piece that won't come back -- do you know what that feels like? It fucking sucks. It's fucking draining, I'm dying inside and nothing will come out. I reread my words, and they're so fucking bad, I just want to throw up.

How did I get to this place?