This post is difficult for me to write, but I hope in doing so that I can let you in on a little part of myself, and hopefully each one of you can find a piece that you can relate to...
When I was 10, my older brother Matt died. He was born with cerebral palsy, and although his life was full of love and joy, it was also filled with struggle. In February 1999, things just became too much for his body to fight off, and he passed away. Being 10 years old, I guess I didn't really know how to handle death, so I did the only thing I knew how to--I became closed off. I didn't really cry much, which made me feel like a horrible person, but this was my way of dealing with pain. And to this day, this is how I've dealt with every single difficult part of my life. Does it work?--Maybe. Does it make it difficult for people to get close to me--Definitely, just ask my boyfriend, but I know no other way.
So, why am I tell you all of this? Because about 2 weeks ago, I had to put one of my best friends, my dog Molly, down. Now, you may laugh that I considered my dog one of my best friends, but I'm sure there are many of you out there that love your dogs with all your heart. They're always there to listen, to offer kiss, and somehow find that perfect way to make you feel that no matter what's going on in life, everything is going to be ok. Those who have followed my blog know how much I loved my dog--there are pictures scattered throughout my posts...and although since I moved away to college I didn't get to see her much, I always looked forward to going home, just to be greeted by her little happy dance and stutter bark.
We were never able to have pets when I was younger, because the pet hair would be detrimental to my older brother's respiratory system. So I think once he died, my parents saw getting a dog as something that might be therapeutic to our family. And that's when Molly came into our lives...and I immediately fell in love with her. She became my pooch, my punk, and, truly, one of my best friends. There were many tears shed while talking with her through all my crazy middle school/high school years (and no, she never talked back to me--I'm not that crazy!) and many laughs heard watching her freak out after a bath or burying a bone in the passenger seat.
Over the years, Molly always thought she a cat--she hated taking baths, her best friend was a neighborhood cat named Rollo, and we all started to think she might actually be when she appeared to have nine lives. Since I left for college, she's had two or three close calls, but somehow always bounced back. The vet even told us that, "This dog is never going to die". But two weeks ago, we had to make the difficult decision that while it wasn't going to be easy, we had to do what was best for Molly. I decided I wanted to be with her till the end--a decision I'm glad I made, but that also will always torture me. Nothing can ever prepare you for having to say goodbye to a loved one--be it a friend, a relative, a brother, or even a dog. Sometimes you have no idea that the last time you see them is truly going to be the last, and sometimes you do. Because I was not able to say goodbye to my brother, I developed this, we'll call it habit, that I always make sure to say "Goodbye" or "I love you" to those I love every time I leave, just in case. I did this every time I had to leave home with Molly.
So this post is in honor of my pooch--will always love you Mol.
**Lyrics: Blow Me (One Last Kiss) by P!nk
