On paper, a dog
shouldn’t mean so much. But often things aren’t the same on paper as they are
in your heart.
Today I had to get
Cleo put to sleep. The vet said it could take up to a minute, but it was a
matter of seconds, really. She was old, and she was hurting, and she went very
quickly.
So I’m a mess, of
course.
Twelve years is a long
time. I think it will take me a while to be able to go to sleep without
listening for her claws clicking across the floors, as she’d flop down beside
my bed with a long sigh before snoring like a chainsaw.
 |
| Cleo and her BFF Grub, being accidentally photogenic. |
Once upon a time – and
I’ve probably told this story before – Cleo ate Christmas.
It was my first year
in my own house, and I was going to make the latticed veranda beautiful. I went
and spent a lot of money on Christmas lights and decorations, then spent hours
threading them through the lattice. Hours, getting the spacing just right. My
arms and shoulders were killing me by the time I was finished. I flicked the
lights on once to make sure they worked.
God, it would look so
good at night when I turned them on. I could hardly wait!
Then, studying the
molding above the front door, I thought
to myself, That would look great with a piece of tinsel above it.
I went inside to get
some tinsel.
And, in the thirty seconds
I was gone, the dog chewed through the power cord for the lights. Hours of
painstaking work with a chair and a step ladder… ruined.
“We are never doing
Christmas again!”
I pulled all the
lights and the tinsel and the decorations down while I ranted and raved and had
a meltdown, and the dog just sat and placidly watched me go insane.
“Never again!”
We did, of course. Lots
of times. And Cleo never really lost the uncanny ability to hone in on the
things I least wanted eaten, and eat them. My brother-in-law’s new expensive
sunglasses. Books. Yummy crunchy CDs. Any bra she could reach.
She was fun and stupid
and lazy and sneaky and sweet and stinky and happy and naughty and bouncy.
I’m going to miss her
like hell.
