Time Flies…

…even when you’re not having fun.

This day a year ago was the hardest day I’ve ever had the displeasure of experiencing. I somehow managed to pull myself out of my bed at my parent’s house after not sleeping a bit the night before, and making my way into work. My eyes were bloodshot and my body numb.

I had lost my first, four legged, (wo)man’s best friend of my adulthood the night before. My Angus, my Gus-Gus.

There are still times when I replay that night over and over again in my head. What was so different about that night? Was it really meant to happen or could I have done something to stop it?

Angus had always been a free spirit. Breaking away from me to run around in circles was his favorite past time. But that night, his run was a little faster, his circle a little wider. As if he knew what was about happen and he was trying to enjoy his last moments.

Knowing he would always come back to me I had given up trying to call his name to get him to put on those puppy brakes and throw it in reverse. I wish I had known that my Gus-Gus wasn’t coming back to me that night, I would have shouted myself hoarse to try and get his attention if it meant I could spend a couple of more minutes appreciating his spastic energy.

But it wasn’t meant to be. And I know that no matter how hard I wish, I can’t change what happened. I can’t scream myself hoarse or run like lightening to try and make out the license plate on the car that hit him and didn’t even slow down.

I can’t even wish to forget the immediate sense of loss and sorrow I felt as I made my way across the lawn to where he lay. I can’t forget how fortunate I felt when I saw that he was at peace with his tongue hanging out of mouth, just like it did when he would sleep.

I can’t forget the sense of love I felt as my family rallied around me. My dad and future husband immediately beginning to dig his grave so he could be laid to rest. My mom’s arms as she held me while I wept. Me running upstairs to my room to find a toy to bury with him and seeing that my mom had already removed his kennel and vacuumed away the lines it had made in the carpet.

I can’t forget bursting into tears throughout the night and into the next morning. I can’t forget going to work and trying to pass my bloodshot eyes off as allergies. I can’t forget that feeling of emptiness that followed me for the next few months.

I can’t forget b/c I don’t want to. I don’t want to forget b/c it’s part of what’s made me who I am today. I don’t want to forget b/c if I still had Angus today, I wouldn’t have Ozzy. And Ozzy needed me, just like I needed him.

So while I’ll never be thankful that I lost my puppy too soon, I am quite thankful for what I’ve been given in this past year b/c of his absence.

RIP Angus
February 2, 2006 - April 30, 2007

*kisses*

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